Student reflects on the life of a renter
When I was in my third year of university I lived in a five bedroom apartment complex on Graham Avenue.
It was an alright building. It had coin operated washers and dryers in the kitchen, two bathrooms and the only real strange thing about the property was the fenced-in garbage containers. When I asked the building manager about it, she answered bluntly: “People keep setting fire to the garbage.”
After about a month, I went to take out the garbage and all that was left of the garbage containers was some charred plastic. They gave up on the fence after that.
I caught a glimpse of the infamous Graham Avenue couch burnings. Cab drivers told me that they have flat-out refused to drive down the street because of the shattered glass. There were strung up shoes on the wires in front of my building.
I spent nearly the entire last week of August moving into my new apartment, a one bedroom downtown. It took about a week for me to notice the quirks, like the neighbours with a penchant for loud horror movies that sound like a satanic sacrifice in the next room. Or the guy with his arm in a cast and the smelly mid-day drunk that asked me to let them into my building. I obliged with awkward hesitation, mumbled, “uh, yeah. Okay,” and held the door for them as they sauntered up the stairs.
I asked a couple of friends for their own experiences. I wanted a context of renting in Fredericton.
I talked to a friend of mine who lived in a house on Tweedsmuir a few years ago. When they moved in the whole air system was filled with mold but the landlord didn’t do anything about it. He explained that his roommate lived in the basement and smoked cigarettes. All day he was breathing in tobacco smoke and mold. He was sick a lot of the time.
He told me about his older neighbours who watched them from their windows. How there had been around eight people living in the house at any given time. This didn’t include drifters. The house became notorious.
Another friend moved into a huge three-bedroom house on Charlotte last year. When she arrived she was told there was a bat in her room – the attic. She got the bat out eventually, and afterwards she went to do a load of laundry. In her pile of laundry there was a garden snake. In the winter she noticed the bad insulation, in the summer she again noticed the bad insulation. She became fast friends with electric blankets and fans.
They both told their stories with a tinge of fondness. I do too.
Be cautious. Don’t get bullied by bad landlords. If your house is bad for your health the Rentalsman can be your best friend. Remember that though you’re young and spry, you’ve got rights as a renter. But I say embrace those other quirks. Learn to love your neighbours, and learn to love your rental.
