Little Miss Awkward

I just can’t help it!!

Guarants Grrrrr!!!

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I should warn you that this post is going to be a putrid sack of bile I intend to spit out about the French renting system. So if you are hoping to read about pleasantries after my hiatus from blogging, I shall be disappointing you I am afraid. From the moment that I stepped on this cheese loving country nearly two years ago, it has been one drama after the other. I have to admit in some masochistic way it all adds to the adventure of it all.

I have debated on whether I should coloc (share) or find my own place. Both have advantages and disadvantages obviously. I toyed for a while into going into another coloc, therefore did the rounds of going round to people’s houses where it is more or less an interview where they decide whether you are worthy of sharing their airspace. One of the more memorable experiences being a 50 yr old Irish guy who contacted me and then when I got there told me I was charming but he was looking for a ghostly student who was never going to be around. WTF?? Why did he waste my time in the first place. However at least he had the courtesy of giving a reply albeit negative when most of them never do. The other advantage of a coloc was that I could scupper without too much hassle if I didn’t want to stay in the country and this is probably the biggest worry for me. As I have been toying with the idea of leaving so I knew that this could be a real possibility. Also after my bad experience of trying to disconnect from SKY back home after two years of subscription, I was scared of a similar fate befalling me once I started to get connected to things here.
However I thought even if I was only here for six months having my own place would not be a bad move.

So started scouting ads like a drug hound looking for a fix, pouncing on everything that looked remotely interesting within budget. Went through the agency route, big mistake. The french letting market have this thing where you have to provide a guarant. A guarant in short is someone that vouches that if you don’t pay your rent, they will be accountable for it. They would have to provide documents like bank statements, tax bills etc. So as someone with no ties to the country, I don’t have such a person. They do have things in place for people like me to have ‘official’ guarants but 90% landlords refuse to even have this mentioned in their presence. So every possibility was thwarted with the inevitable guarant subject rearing its ugly head. Therefore I decided to head down the private route which I thought would be easier because when you deal with people directly, you are not talking to some faceless agency but to someone you can plead and cry to.

Dealing directly with the landlord was marginally easier. I contacted a woman who was very pleasant on the phone and from the get go told her of my lack of guarant situation. She did not run off screaming which was a positive sign. So we had a rendezvous to see the appartment. While waiting outside the appartment a Smart Car pulled up and this heavily made up lady steps out. Her perfume knocked me out for six and she was standing across the street. She saw me and gave me the same once over that Fagan gave Oliver twist in their first encounter. It was a look filled with a mixture of curiosity, trepidation, excitement and a soupçon of opportunism. I regretted not wearing matching bra and panties because I was sure she could see right through my clothes. She had those kind of eyes. As she looked me up and down I was trying to take my eyes off her massive knuckle duster gold rings. If someone told me this woman owned a brothel and was heavily involved in human trafficking and the sex trade, I wouldn’t even flinch with surprise. She had that air of wilyness about her. She leads me into the appartment block and there the real adventure begins….

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January 25, 2009 Posted by | Blogroll, France, Rant, Uncategorized, Work | Leave a comment