The joys of just being a number.

2014.01.11 | Random
11:

This little entry will entail what it’s like to have your apartment building purchased.

So far, it’s been pretty humiliating.

A few months ago, our new “owners” came by with cheerful smiles and attitudes. It seemed to reflect what we thought (or I thought) was a future rainbow focused on new beginnings. They were pleasant and we were pleasant back, because all of us have been suffering under the equivalent of a gentle handed slum lord (not outright horrible, but not outright great either –aka Artiste Apartments).

Cut to yesterday evening when the new off site temporary managers went door to door during dinner time (good choice), to see if people were home and introduce themselves. Again, on outward appearances this is a great idea but let’s rewind a bit. It was over a MONTH ago the place was looked at by the new buyer. A good company would send out letters informing us who the new managers would be AND let us know when they’d come for a visit so we could all meet them and BE HOME for them because I for one wanted to say hello but couldn’t. But, instead, the random quick in/out drop by is what we got. Leave your money on the dresser, man.

Less than 24 hours later (this morning) they started demo-ing 4 of the empty apartments. And by demo I mean, ripping out floors, kitchens, etc.

I made a little call to the department in charge of building and safety and discovered  no permits were filed for this activity and to be honest, I’m not surprised. This is ‘tow the line’ average for Los Angeles. These investors rake through the city, assess properties that can put out like the little money whores they are, buy and then flip them without acknowledging that human beings live in these spaces and have to live and work around their short cuts.

Exactly how hard is it to drop a f***ing note in the mail to inform us of upcoming construction? Not hard. And if they’re too cheap for stamps, and if they don’t get permits, what does that say about them and their ’employees’.

The new company (Essential Management, Inc. of Los Angeles) appears on the surface to be no better than Artiste. Prove me wrong!

Sure, you’ll flip the ailing apartments that need work as discussed, and you’ll pretty up the yard, but you’ll do it with unlicensed labor (hello GAS LEAKS!!!!!!), no permits, using noisy crews that yell for no reason, and play loud music while the rest of us who LIVE here try to work and pay your income.

I could call the city and punish them, but that will just hurt me (because we know how slumlords like to treat tenants who whistle-blow), and it would just delay the work, so at this point, I’m stuck.

I like it here, but I prefer to have building owners that acknowledge humanity and actually communicate professionally.

And…they don’t.


When is a permit required? http://dpw.lacounty.gov/bsd/permitinfo/

 

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Update: 8/9/2014

Six months later and I’m in a beautiful new apartment with a management company that actually cares about their tenants.

The initial manager who spoke with me (Karen) when the apartments were taken over, lied TO MY FACE about the company having permits. That was swiftly and easily taken care of by calling the city and having them inspect the work, stop the work (a nice week of peace and quiet, thank you), and require permits for the rest of their construction.

Stories of nazi-like aggression from the owner (the old one) from when I left continued to leak my way. He likes to yell and point fingers in faces, which didn’t work well with me, other than I left to get away from his magnificent ego and uncaring touch.  He ripped out almost every single plant that was green on this property and replaced it with sand, concrete, and pointy plants.

It’s the grossest most disgusting over-priced re-design I have ever seen in my life. The place looks like a prison now. I’m glad I’m gone.

My favorite example I was witness to was when he knocked on a tenant’s door at 9 am on a Saturday (a no no) and then chided her for being sleepy when she’s a waitress that leaves work at 2 a.m.. He then continued to invite her to his skeevy superbowl party. Gross.

 

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