The renting experience
I have learned the hard way about the joys of renting. I’m sure that not every renter’s experience is similar, and I would hope not. My experience is based only upon the UK, and only upon a dodgy agency whose name I won’t mention. OK, I will: Choices. If you ever find yourself renting a property in the UK and you are tempted to use this company – don’t.
Apparently, just because you pay an exorbitant amount of rent – in advance – doesn’t mean you are entitled to heat or hot water. Legally, you are entitled, but when you are dealing with an agency who have a blatant disdain for their clients, you find yourself shivering and smelly, in a very expensive flat, for a whole month. The renting experience has been a shock to me, and nothing has made me want to own a house again more than the past three, powerless months I have spent here.
The flat was beautiful once. It overlooks Brighton Marina, has two floors, a garage, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a modern outlook. OK I sound like an estate agent now. (I am an estate agent, actually). But, the years have not been kind to this flat. It is tired, damp, slightly grubby, and not much works. Windows don’t open, taps remain dry, showers don’t so much as shower you as make you ever so slightly damp. You get the picture.
I complain relentlessly to the agents, who blatantly ignore/hate me. I start stalking the landlord (online, obviously, not in real life). I become obsessed with the injustice of it all.
Eventually, I have to accept this: customer service doesn’t really exist in England. Buildings are not as efficient. I hate renting.
It’s all character building, so they tell me.