A NYC Apartment Journey, Part 4. (the previous post can be found by clicking here)
Trying to Rent Apartments for Landlords in Salt Lake City, Utah During Covid (Part 1)
Are you a property owner that wants to sell their condo, investment property or needs to rent an apartment or retail space in New York City? Call or text me: Sam Moritz, licensed real estate agent, 203–209–3640.
Do you know a property owner that might need real estate help? Refer me! I provide great and professional real estate services across all five boroughs.
This is very long. I don’t expect you to read it. Basically recapping a few places I have lived in in the last ten years.
If you would like to read the previous post, you can click here.
August 2020. The Pandemic was at its height.
I was healthy, but news swirled about people moving out of New York City, not into or within it. My job as a real estate agent — which, at the time, depended on renting apartments for landlords (I was working on some larger sales deal, but nothing was close) — was not going well. I had a lot of apartments sitting unrented.
So often, I’d look from the living room of my apartment at the Denizen Bushwick, across the courtyard and into empty apartments in the building.
There were so many empty apartments — a reminder that the NYC real estate world had come to a screeching halt.
I was heartbroken — the beginning of the year had seemed so promising.
I had always wanted to try living in another city aside from NYC. Previous attempts to leave had not gone anywhere and recently, my exciting real estate career had kept me grounded — I hadn’t thought about leaving for a long time.
But real estate was at a standstill — it seemed like everyone was working remote and moving away.
This was my chance to leave, too. I could come back when the Pandemic died down and when the real estate market was stronger.
I decided I was going to move to Salt Lake City, Utah. I’d fly out on the last day of my current lease — September 30.
I chose Salt Lake City for a few reasons.
One: when it came to mountainous, nature-oriented cities, it seemed like people were always moving from NYC to Denver. I wanted to be a little different.
The other big factor was that one of my closest friends from growing up, Misha, had moved to Salt Lake City a few years ago with his girlfriend, Molly. I wouldn’t be alone (ie — they would help me when I struggled to adjust to the new city).
I had to think about what I would do for work once I was there.
I initially enrolled in education to be a real estate agent in Utah — but I stopped right away. For years in NYC, I had depended on my rental business for income — quick, easy money. I was working on selling buildings — but it took a while for owners to become really serious about selling. I couldn’t afford to wait — rentals were good for consistent income.
I got in touch with a real estate agent in Salt Lake who said that real estate agents listing and renting apartments for landlords, like what I did in NYC, was just not a thing. That I should just completely not pursue it. He made it seem like I was an idiot for even considering it.
Well, fine, that was okay — I had worked in telephone sales at different tech companies before real estate. I figured I’d just go back to my old career.
I started taking phone interviews for sales jobs in Salt Lake City from my living room at the Denizen. I had some promising job leads. The recruiters said that I should get in touch when my move got a little closer — in about a month.
Not going to lie — I was SUPER nervous about moving, and almost bailed completely. A life changing move amidst a global Pandemic really rattled me.
But I fought through it. On September 30th, 2020, with many of my things shipped and on their way to Salt Lake via UPS, I bid adieu to my roommate Josh in the lobby of the Denizen. Then I got in an Uber and a few hours later, I was on a flight to my new home in the Mountain West.
____________
I crash-landed (not actually) in an Airbnb in downtown Salt Lake City — a bedroom inside of a one story house.
I was incredibly disoriented — it was crazy that I had actually left NYC.
Initial walks from the house made me feel like I was in a good location. It was a nice, tree-lined street. There was a large grocery store and some other commerce a block away.
Misha and Molly met up with me that night and we drove no more than ten minutes and were instantly hiking among breathtaking mountains. This is what I wanted! To be minutes to nature. After about fifteen minutes of walking up one of the trails (there were many), we had an amazing view of the mountains and downtown Salt Lake City.
Misha and Molly told me they lived in South Jordan, about a thirty minute drive from downtown — still considered to be in the Salt Lake metro area. (I’d go down there a bit — it was a nice suburb with a long walking trail right by their apartment complex, but I liked the walkability of the downtown area where I was).
A few days later, all of my things from New York City arrived and were spread across the floor of the room in the Airbnb. It was a mess but it was okay — this was square one. I was working on finding a permanent place to live and also a job.
The job part was going well: I was a few rounds deep at some tech company. It seemed likely they would offer me a sales job which would start in a few weeks (they hired about ten sales people every month or so, expecting three quarters of them to quit or get fired pretty quickly).
I still wasn’t considering real estate — for now.
But my thoughts about real estate changed a few mornings later during another walk in the neighborhood.
This time I walked away from the grocery store. In addition to other single family homes on the next block, there were also a few multi family buildings — maybe three of them. They weren’t huge — there seemed to be about ten apartments in each of them (I was looking from the street).
What I found really strange was that in front of the buildings, stuck in the lawn, were “for rent” signs with a phone number.
I was from New York City — rent signs did exist, but they weren’t that common. Most of the apartments I listed were rented from people searching online.
I was on the hunt for an apartment and this seemed like a good area to live in. I called a number at the first building I passed.
But no one picked up.
I called again. Still no answer.
Then I texted the number — a Utah-based 801 area code. I said I had just moved to the area and was looking for an apartment.
No one responded — not then, not ever.
I googled “apartments for rent in Salt Lake City.” The first link was for Zillow.
At this building, according to the map on Zillow, there were no apartments available. At least, none were listed.
I immediately wondered to myself: if someone wasn’t driving or walking by the building, how would they know about any available apartments?
I moved on. There were some apartments listed online, usually by property managers who worked from the buildings and showed available apartments inside them.
I wanted to be really thorough about my apartment search. I rented a car and drove all up and down the Wasatch Front (this is what the Salt Lake City metro area is called — it’s at the base of the Wasatch Mountains). Ultimately, my travels to find an apartment led me back to the downtown area. I hadn’t found the apartment yet but knew I wanted one in the area close to the Airbnb.
Meanwhile, I was officially offered this job at this telephone sales company. I accepted it and would start next week. I thought it would be great to return to my old career. (I was so wrong).
Socially, I was making friends at a rapid pace. I had gone to a hiking meetup (on meetup.com), where I met a few other seemingly cool guys. After going to the group one time, we started a group chat and met up a few other times on our own to hike and to also hang out. I had an acquaintance from college, who had lived in the area for a long time. I reconnected with her. And I had Misha and Molly.
I was still very uncomfortable — the move was very disorienting. But it was something I was determined to fight through.
My own apartment search continued. The next week, I was driving by another building close to downtown. I called the number on the for rent sign outside of it. This time a woman picked up. She agreed to show me available apartments at her building the next morning.
When we met, she told me she was the owner of the building. She was nice and had a few apartments available — but I rejected the three possible options on the spot because they had carpets in them. It might sound weird — but I was worried about my allergies.
I wondered how long it had taken her to drive here just so I could tell her I wasn’t interested because of the carpeting.
I mean, her driving here, showing me the apartment, and then driving home, might have been an hour of her day. Did she have a full time job? A family? Playing real estate agent isn’t always fun or efficient.
She was also underpricing her apartments. They may have been carpeted, but they were nice. I had seen similar options a couple of hundred dollars more expensive.
I remembered my conversation with the Salt Lake City real estate agent when I was back at the Denizen — that real estate agents listing apartment rentals for landlords wasn’t a thing.
But my recent unanswered texts to an owner with a sign in the ground and this owner schlepping from who knows where in the Wasatch Front to show me an underpriced apartment was making me think that these landlords should maybe reconsider. Saving time and getting market rate for apartments seemed like pretty compelling reasons for someone to use a real estate agent for rentals.
I asked her: “I’m from New York City, and I was a real estate agent there. I used to list and rent apartments for landlords. Have you considered working with a real estate agent to rent your apartments? It would probably save you time. And I think you could get more money for these.”
Her head snapped back like I was talking to her in another language .”Uh, no. Real Estate Agents don’t do that here. I’m fine just doing it myself.”
Her reaction was extreme. I didn’t press, but I did think to myself: are you sure you don’t need me?
I wasn’t prepared to give up on this whole New York City rental model. Back near my Airbnb, I found one more for rent sign, and this time I called and texted the owner a different message:
“Hi, my name is Sam Moritz and I was wondering: do you ever need help renting your apartments? I just moved here from New York City, where I was a real estate agent renting apartments for landlords. Do you maybe want help renting your apartments?”
I sent the text off. No immediate response.
In terms of where I would live, I did find maybe the coolest apartment in the history of the world to rent myself. I had seen a lot of apartments in my lifetime — both in New York City and Salt Lake. The one I would sign the lease for was for sure the best.
The location was great. It was downtown, but I guess this side of downtown was technically called “Trolley Square.” I was within a short walk of Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and a Wall-Mart-esque place called Smith’s (right across the street from my building — the neon lights from Smith’s sign would shine through my window at night).
The apartment itself was amazing. It was a large one bedroom on the top floor of a new building (there was an elevator). My unit was on the corner of the building, so it had two sides of windows. It got a ton of light. There was a big, sleek kitchen, with a large marble island, and the living room was airy and spacious. I also had a private balcony and washer / dryer in unit.
But the best part was the view. From both sets of windows, I had this unbelievable view of the mountains. They stretched around the whole apartment and glowed in sunsets and were snow capped a few months later.
I signed a six month lease, paying $1250/month. I’d later buy a car (crazy story), and would park my car in the covered garage, increasing the rent to $1350/month.
I moved in and started my job.
The job was not fun — no surprise there. Because of Covid, the company lent us computers and monitors and I worked from home.
About a week after I started, an old real estate colleague of mine from Brooklyn texted me:
“Landlords in Brooklyn are dropping the prices of apartments a ton. I’m making money.”
Oh g-d. The Brooklyn real estate market, calling back to me.
I got another message a few work-days later — this time from a Brooklyn landlord that I had known for a while. “Hi, Sam, my new building is ready to be rented.” The new building! I had been waiting for the six unit building in Bushwick to be ready for a long time.
I mean — I knew this was going to happen, that business I had followed up about for years would be offered to me. But I couldn’t help feeling that things that I had worked hard for were going to pass me by. That made me a little upset.
I gave the landlord of the Bushwick building my colleague’s number and told him to call her so she could help rent it.
About two months into my Salt Lake City life, I was doing okay — I had friends, was working, and loved my apartment, but the Brooklyn ties were strong. I had left, wanting to try something new, but now I felt very homesick.
I also missed real estate. I had left telephone sales for a reason. But it just didn’t seem like I’d really get going in real estate here — I couldn’t afford to not have income while I worked on finding some big sales deal to pay the bills.
The next night, Friday, I went for a hike with another hiking meetup. We had hiked about forty minutes and were looking over the orange setting sun over Salt Lake City when I got a text message.
It was from the downtown Salt Lake City landlord I had texted a month ago — whose number I had taken from a for rent sign and who I had solicited to see if they ever needed help renting apartments from someone who had experience doing it in New York City.
The message read: “Hi Sam, is your offer real? If it is, I could be interested. I own six buildings in downtown Salt Lake City, and used to show the apartments myself. But I am moving to Los Angeles. I could be very interested in your services.”
Maybe a real estate career would be possible in Salt Lake City, after all.
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