Now this got us thinking: what about Australia could possibly demand a revolution? From our short-but-intensive observations of the Australian culture, everything seems rather heavenly. The entire population has access to healthcare. The beach is within walking/public transportation distance of pretty much anywhere in Melbourne. To our knowledge, there does not seem to be a poor class, with even McDonald’s workers making upwards of AUD$15/hr. The unemployment rate, while higher than normal at the moment thanks to the global economic crisis, is still low compared to most countries. I suppose the revolution instigators could be a bunch of capitalist businessmen who are upset that their income possibilities top off at around $300,000/yr instead of $700,000 or so, but that seems like quite a lot of effort for people who are busy having power lunches and playing on their yachts.
Then it hit us—the revolution must be referring to the Australian real estate system! It’s really the only plausible option. And this is a revolution Will and I can fully get behind.
In order for you to fully appreciate the necessity for this revolution, allow me to explain the status quo as it stands in Australia today.
Upon moving to Melbourne, Will and I weren’t at all concerned about being able to find an apartment. We had done some preliminary research before leaving the United States so we knew the areas where we wanted to look and the price range we would mostly be looking in, and there seemed to be quite a bit of availability. A mirage, my friends, a mirage. When we got here someone kindly explained to us that Melbourne has less than 1% rental vacancy at the moment, and the market is quite competitive at that. Apparently we unwittingly moved to New York.
But no matter. We could be competitive and pushy as well. We would just get a real estate agent to pull up a list of vacant properties throughout the city (we didn’t have internet, so how could we do that?), drive us around (we didn’t have a car, so how could we cover that much area on foot?), show us the properties (how would we know what the features are and when it’s available?), and we would just choose one (we weren’t planning on being picky, I swear).
As you can imagine, the [quite logical, I thought] assumptions that I have articulated above are, in fact, riddled with a variety of inconsistencies and problems. First and foremost, the problem of the mythical real estate agent. I use the term mythical because Australian real estate agents are often referred to in whispered conversation, yet are quite rarely seen. When calling a real estate agency, one will unequivocally speak with a receptionist—the front-man for the whole operation—who will without fail tell you that no agents are in right now because they are “extremely busy at the moment.” When leaving your number and asking them to return your call, one never hears back from them (either because they are “so busy” or because they don’t exist, who can tell?). When asking to view a property, one is told by the receptionist front-man that, again, the real estate agents are “extremely busy” and have no time to personally show you the property, but that you can go to the “inspection” (a fifteen-minute cattle call when anyone who is interested in this particular property hauls themselves to the property in question, stands in line with the hundreds of other interested people, files into the 500 sq. ft. un-air-conditioned one-bedroom apartment, picks up an application if interested, and is assured that they will “hear back” if they have been selected to be the lucky recipients of the $1300/month rent payments). Why the agents are always “so busy” I have a hard time understanding. It seems to me that the consumer is the one doing all the work—finding the place, getting to the place, filling out an application for the place—and all the real estate agent has to do is schedule a fifteen-minute inspection once a week until the place rents… oh, and get paid a commission off the rental, though they have done nothing sales-oriented to deserve it. At the inspections one can occasionally catch a fleeting glimpse of what I can only imagine could be a real estate agent, but they tend to vanish before one’s very eyes prior to actually speaking with them. (Seriously, they really do just vanish. It’s incredible.)
Mythical or just very, very lucky that they have a cushy job? Who knows. But if I ever do catch one of these wondrous creatures, I will ask them how I too can become a real estate agent.
Saturday, the first time Will and I actually set out to look for apartments, the weather got up to 115 degrees. For those who have never experienced weather of this magnitude, 115 degrees is very, very hot. The black flip-flops I was wearing practically began to melt into my feet. As an added difficulty, there was a breeze blowing. Now I hesitate to use the word “breeze” because that makes the monstrous force of nature that we experienced on Saturday sound like a good thing. When one thinks of a breeze one normally pictures cooling winds lapping at the skin—Mother Nature’s air conditioner. What we experienced was, in fact, exactly the opposite—hot, scalding winds blowing dust, leaves, and debris into our eyes. (If wind chill makes cold weather colder, what would you call wind that makes hot weather hotter?) Every time I think back to Saturday, I can’t shake the picture of us in the Sahara, chasing after an oasis that we hoped would be just over each sand dune (in our case the oasis was the apartments we were trying to “inspect”). We only looked at three apartments, but it took hours for us to get to each of them because we had to stop every ten minutes to find shade, it was so hot.
I have a few more inspections to go to this week. Will is starting his job today so I will be the sole inspector from now on (who knows—maybe if I’m really, really lucky I’ll get to see a real estate agent in their natural habitat). I think we will put in an application for one of the apartments we looked at on Saturday, just to see how difficult the rest of the process is and how long it will take. We’re hoping to find something by February 18, the day we have to be out of our beautiful, air conditioned, serviced hotel-apartment (tear).
Now that you have heard our heart-wrenching tale, hopefully you too will realize that Australians live in a world of real estate depravity—a system governed by the elite, mythical real estate agents with no thought for the homeless hordes searching for a place to lay their weary heads. Clearly the only solution is revolution. Will and I will fight. Will you?
Then it hit us—the revolution must be referring to the Australian real estate system! It’s really the only plausible option. And this is a revolution Will and I can fully get behind.
In order for you to fully appreciate the necessity for this revolution, allow me to explain the status quo as it stands in Australia today.
Upon moving to Melbourne, Will and I weren’t at all concerned about being able to find an apartment. We had done some preliminary research before leaving the United States so we knew the areas where we wanted to look and the price range we would mostly be looking in, and there seemed to be quite a bit of availability. A mirage, my friends, a mirage. When we got here someone kindly explained to us that Melbourne has less than 1% rental vacancy at the moment, and the market is quite competitive at that. Apparently we unwittingly moved to New York.
But no matter. We could be competitive and pushy as well. We would just get a real estate agent to pull up a list of vacant properties throughout the city (we didn’t have internet, so how could we do that?), drive us around (we didn’t have a car, so how could we cover that much area on foot?), show us the properties (how would we know what the features are and when it’s available?), and we would just choose one (we weren’t planning on being picky, I swear).
As you can imagine, the [quite logical, I thought] assumptions that I have articulated above are, in fact, riddled with a variety of inconsistencies and problems. First and foremost, the problem of the mythical real estate agent. I use the term mythical because Australian real estate agents are often referred to in whispered conversation, yet are quite rarely seen. When calling a real estate agency, one will unequivocally speak with a receptionist—the front-man for the whole operation—who will without fail tell you that no agents are in right now because they are “extremely busy at the moment.” When leaving your number and asking them to return your call, one never hears back from them (either because they are “so busy” or because they don’t exist, who can tell?). When asking to view a property, one is told by the receptionist front-man that, again, the real estate agents are “extremely busy” and have no time to personally show you the property, but that you can go to the “inspection” (a fifteen-minute cattle call when anyone who is interested in this particular property hauls themselves to the property in question, stands in line with the hundreds of other interested people, files into the 500 sq. ft. un-air-conditioned one-bedroom apartment, picks up an application if interested, and is assured that they will “hear back” if they have been selected to be the lucky recipients of the $1300/month rent payments). Why the agents are always “so busy” I have a hard time understanding. It seems to me that the consumer is the one doing all the work—finding the place, getting to the place, filling out an application for the place—and all the real estate agent has to do is schedule a fifteen-minute inspection once a week until the place rents… oh, and get paid a commission off the rental, though they have done nothing sales-oriented to deserve it. At the inspections one can occasionally catch a fleeting glimpse of what I can only imagine could be a real estate agent, but they tend to vanish before one’s very eyes prior to actually speaking with them. (Seriously, they really do just vanish. It’s incredible.)
Mythical or just very, very lucky that they have a cushy job? Who knows. But if I ever do catch one of these wondrous creatures, I will ask them how I too can become a real estate agent.
Saturday, the first time Will and I actually set out to look for apartments, the weather got up to 115 degrees. For those who have never experienced weather of this magnitude, 115 degrees is very, very hot. The black flip-flops I was wearing practically began to melt into my feet. As an added difficulty, there was a breeze blowing. Now I hesitate to use the word “breeze” because that makes the monstrous force of nature that we experienced on Saturday sound like a good thing. When one thinks of a breeze one normally pictures cooling winds lapping at the skin—Mother Nature’s air conditioner. What we experienced was, in fact, exactly the opposite—hot, scalding winds blowing dust, leaves, and debris into our eyes. (If wind chill makes cold weather colder, what would you call wind that makes hot weather hotter?) Every time I think back to Saturday, I can’t shake the picture of us in the Sahara, chasing after an oasis that we hoped would be just over each sand dune (in our case the oasis was the apartments we were trying to “inspect”). We only looked at three apartments, but it took hours for us to get to each of them because we had to stop every ten minutes to find shade, it was so hot.
I have a few more inspections to go to this week. Will is starting his job today so I will be the sole inspector from now on (who knows—maybe if I’m really, really lucky I’ll get to see a real estate agent in their natural habitat). I think we will put in an application for one of the apartments we looked at on Saturday, just to see how difficult the rest of the process is and how long it will take. We’re hoping to find something by February 18, the day we have to be out of our beautiful, air conditioned, serviced hotel-apartment (tear).
Now that you have heard our heart-wrenching tale, hopefully you too will realize that Australians live in a world of real estate depravity—a system governed by the elite, mythical real estate agents with no thought for the homeless hordes searching for a place to lay their weary heads. Clearly the only solution is revolution. Will and I will fight. Will you?
Time Here: Mon., Feb. 9, 4:45 pm
Wow, sounds like it is HOT and ya'll are experiencing everything!! So, waht about the fires? I heard they are all near Melnourne?!? I will just email you to find out about that!!
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