There has to be a special place in the underworld reserved for John Geltrude of East Rutherford, New Jersey, otherwise known as the slumlord of 108 Park Avenue.
I had stopped by the apartment on Wednesday, August 31st, to grab a few things before heading back to Manhattan when I decided to advise our Superintendent, Bob, of my revelation regarding the man I had still never met. Even after all of this. I also wanted Bob to know that it was my opinion that he may be joining John in Hades, as he would probably be found "guilty by association". Although a servant of "The Man", I liked Bob and wanted to make a last attempt to talk some sense into him. We were soon joined by Bob's brother Joe and then another tenant of the building that happened to be new to the building (pobrecito!). I've never had a problem speaking my mind (says the blogger), especially when I feel I've been wronged, and this was as good of a time as any. All of a sudden, a strange man walked right through my captive audience, through our private entrance, and down into the basement leve that only contained our apartment. I had a feeling this was the devil whom I had been speaking of. By the time I spun on my heels to follow, he already had his key in what was my apartment door.
"Excuse me..?!" I called out, but it had obviously fallen on deaf ears as the intruder was already in the apartment. There was no "how do you do's" at this point, he knew who I was and I knew who he was and neither one of us were interested in formalities. He wouldn't even make eye contact with me as he called out to his serpent, I mean servant, Bob, who came as he was instructed. John asked Bob question after question about the flooring, obviously having no clue about the building he supposedly owned. He followed Bob around the apartment, asking a million questions about things he obviously knew nothing about, as I apparently became invisible in a matter of minutes.
I sat back, made myself comfortable, and watched the show that neither one of them had intended to have an audience for, especially me, the unhappy tenant they were trying to screw over. John decided to make himself comfortable as well, as he ordered Bob and Joe around the apartment. Never once offering to help, he ordered them to pull up several parts of the sub floor that revealed obvious water damage underneath. His face showed the same look of shock that mine did.
He then asked Bob and Joe to pull up one of the planks of hardwood that made up the majority of the remaining sub floor. Although the 120-year old hardwood was real oak, the wood crumbled with the stroke of the hammer, just like rotted wood on a dock of a marina. The wood was completely saturated, (it obviously wasn't it's first rodeo when it came to flooding), and when removed, revealed a soaked-through piece of plywood underneath. John ordered Bob and Joe, who scurried like mice at his command, to grab the drill to see what was underneath the mystery plywood. Mind you, John had previously informed us, very condescendingly, that we were living on top of a cement sub floor, which was already not the case.
Not only was there no cement under the 3/4" plywood, there was nothing at all. That's right. That drill tip hit dirt..or should I say mud. That four-story apartment was being held up by nothing more than wooden, and obviously rotted, joists (a little bigger than 2x4's) and plywood. I wish I was joking.
120-years ago, the poor Italian families that settled in to call Hoboken home realized they were in a disasterous flood zone. To combat the issue, they dug large canyons under their homes to catch the flood water, and simply built on top of them with wood joists, and plywood. For the first time, John Geltrude was realizing that no technology created by modern man in the past 120-years had been used on his apartment building. To him, walls showing massive cracks and doors no longer seeming to close properly throughout the building, weren't signs that this place was soon going to crumble into the earth below- they were just an "insurance hassle".
After this shocking revelation, the generous man that he is, gave us two options. He knew that the only option that would keep him out of prison for being responsible for the sickness and potentially disasterous outcome of other tenants, was to pull up all of the flooring that was now showing mold and rot, and fill in the cavern below with cement to further reinforce the building and to stop the flooding once and for all. But this option came with lost rent and a higher insurance deductable so was tossed out like we were soon to be.
He calmly stated that he would give us two options that did not include the one above. He was planning on putting carpet over the mold and rotted sub floor and calling it a day. If we weren't happy with that, he would "go above and beyond" and actually sand down the remaining sub floor (how much can you sand down 3/4" plywood?), apply a layer of varnish and two layers of sealant, and THEN replace the carpet. Something he said he would let his "kids live with". But not without trying to deter this choice by advising what a messy job sanding was and he wasn't going to be responsible for moving our furniture around to avoid damage. Wow- thank you so much! After advising we had two days to make a decision, he was gone. If we chose neither of the two ridiculous options, we had 15 days to find another place and move in or he would charge us rent for a place we couldn't live in...
Awesome.
On the 2nd of September, John Geltrude received our notice to vacate. We asked that due to the circumstances, to please expedite the return of our deposit as it would be needed for the next place and soon. He stated he was within his rights to return it after 30-days which would start after we vacated. What a lovely man.
And so the saga continued...
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