Since the fall of 2004, when I went on disability, I've lived in public housing. I could tell you hair-raising stories...!
Okay, so I'm only going to tell you about a rather mundane one of mine. Tough.
I don't know if any of you live / have lived in public housing. The way I understand, it's run by HUD and the Housing authority, so I guess that makes the people who run the building civil servants. I'm assuming that because of the shite they get away with; the building manager, Miz She Devil, runs this place like Mussolini, but without the benefits. [Heh.]
From the minute I applied to move in, Devil has done everything in her vast powers to make life hard for me. I should at this point note that I'm often naïve about things like this to the point of not realizing what's going, even when there's a 400 lb. gorilla in the room.
Let me recount the ways:
- When I applied, I was told there were no units available. I was living in an extended-stay shelter, and they were itching for me to go almost as much as I was for myself. For 3 months, nothing available. So I met with Georgia Lawyers for the Homeless, and they made one phone call; lo and behold, an appartment had become available. They showed me a nice studio.
Lesson missed: I should have slipped her something to get "moved up the list."
- So they run an extended background check ("no felons allowed," heh) and find a 7-yo debt to a previous landlord (I contested it at the time, but then lost track when I got sick). She tells me I have to pay that debt before I can sign a lease. I beg and borrow every cent I can to pay $1,000 to an old asshole landlord.
Lesson missed: I should have paid that money to her.
- With all that cleared up, they show me to my apartment. The one they'd shown me had been leased to someone else, but check this one out. It's an 11 x 16 room, with a kitchen so small you can't open the fridge & oven at the same time; there's one window facing the wall on the other side of the U. The bathroom sink is sitting on the floor, there's burns all over the carpet. [At the time, I wasn't even aware that the woman next door drank copius bottles of cheap vodka and screamed a lot.] It's the only apartment available, and I can take it or lose it, as well as my place on the list. So I took it.
Lesson missed: I should have offered something to get a better apartment.
- During a routine inspection, she orders me to take my mezuzzah off the doorway, citing rules about nothing on doors or doorways allowed. I point out it's a religious observance, and she said, "That's even worse. It might offend someone. Take it down." Mind you, tenants have stuff all over their doors,
like Mr. Patriot here . As opposed to my doorway .
Jump ahead a couple more years of living in this claustrophobic cell. A little old lady has moved in down the hall, set off her smoke alarm, and the smoke is billowing into the halls. I ran in to wave at the alarm, open windows, run air conditioners, and turn on the stove fan, and am stopped in my tracks. This woman was in a huge and spacious 2-BR that she'd never be able to keep up with. I'd been paying one of the highest rents in the building for the smallest layout.
This lady, bless her heart, died two weeks later, on a Friday. At 8 am on Monday, I was in She Devil's office asking for that apartment. I pointed out that I'd been an exemplary tenant, it was a perfect fit cuz I could keep taking care of my elderly neighbors, and I'd signed the transfer list years ago.
"What list, there's no transfer list."
Yes there is, I signed it years ago.
[dicks around for a while, pulls out file]
"Your name's not on the list."
Yes, it is.
[dicks around for a while, flips through several pages]
"You're too far down the list, there's dozens of people ahead of you."
[dicks around for a while, starts crossing off names - moved, died, evicted] Well, I have to see." I'm
summoned to her office in a couple of days. That apartment was still available.
"You're next on the list, but we have to fill all the empty apartments before you get your transfer."
Can you say LOGIC FAIL!
I tried everything, including - yup - offering to pay rent for both apartments for a month, and looking at her square in the eyes and asking "What can I do to move in this apartment?" I was rebuffed each time. I told the guy who manages the physical plant (not really Devil's boss, but with some influence) and bet she'd give that apartment to the next person who walked in; Plant said, "No, she's not that bad." Guess what happened.
So I'm in his office upset and crying and she calls me out into the lobby, where about 35 elderly people in scooter chairs were waiting for the mailman (highlight of the day), and dresses me down like a drill seargent for a good five minutes. The gist is that if I so much as mention the word "transfer" to her, she'll send me to the end of the list and I'd never get one.
I have kept silent on the subject since that day, watching as new single tenants are moved into huge 2-BRs. There was never anyone to complain to; Mizz Devil was untouchable.
That is, until a couple of weeks ago, when I was waiting to talk to Plant about a way to reduce water use in the building in accordance with Earth Day, and the fact that we had no hot water for 4 days, unable to pay the bill. I intended to trade this information for his getting me an apartment, but he was in a meeting with a couple of women in his office. Turns out, they're from HUD - and Mizz She Devil's bosses.
Remember #4 above? As soon as the door opened I stepped up to one and asked what to do if I was discriminated against. She handed me a glossy folder and told me to read it. I asked, "What about if it's that Miss Devil made me take down a mezuzzah?" She looked hard at me, handed me her personal business card, and said, email me. I did that night, about 9::30, and by 10:15 she sent a one-sentence reply:
Do you wish to file a complaint?
I sure do!
A formal internal investigation has been mounted against her for violating my religious rights, and she knows I'm the one who filed it. Did I mention I'm the only Jew in a building with like 300 tenants? The other thing is, I believe HUD was looking for an airtight case to lodge against She Devil, and are using me to that capacity. I am soooo outraged they would do that/snark!!
Here comes the good news. In an unusual reaction to having a complaint filed against her, Mizz Devil has offered me a transfer into a 1-BR apartment - and it's wonderful! On an outside corner, it's spacious, lots of windows, like five closets...and a panoramic view of the city skyline. I formally accepted today, and the maintenance guy (who snuck me in for a peek) said it'll be ready for move-in within a few days. But She Devil is on vacation until Monday, or maybe Tuesday, says the receptionist. She went on to say that until then, I "can't see the apartment until it's ready" (which I guess means when they put the bathroom sink on the floor) or learn how much lump sum I need to move (what with deposits &c.). It's on the same floor, so moving will be a breeze, and I'm ready to move in today. Now. It's taking all my willpower not to cruise the liquor stores for boxes.
Number 4? Lesson not missed.
.
.
.
.
.
My new view (and yes, there's a church next door).