Living In A Tent Made Of Red Flags

I take a tour of an apartment complex, and everything looks above-board to me. Several staff are in the office, and the tour itself is very professional. [Manager] tells me the rate for a one-bedroom, and I say I’ll need to think about it. I tour a few other complexes. Two days later, I give the first complex a call in the morning.

Me: “I’d like to come in and sign a lease. Would that be possible today?”

Staff Member: “Oh, yes! You can come in at any time.”

Me: “Great! And it’s $575 for a one-bedroom, right?”

Staff Member: “Oh, it’s actually $605 for a one-bedroom.”

This is the first red flag. I decide to go in, anyway. When I get there, it’s mid-afternoon, and [Staff Member] is the only one in the office. She is running between phones and trying to help tenants who come in with issues while I’m there. I end up being there for about half an hour, during which time no other staff makes an appearance.

She gives me a blank application to fill out, and I ask about the price hike. She has to hunt around for a price list and explains that the rate increases with each day that passes, which is the first time I’ve heard this. She also mentions that the rate is now $625. While she helps a tenant, I look over the application. It is generic, with no details about the specific unit I’d be renting.

Staff Member: “If you just sign that at the bottom, I’ll make sure my manager gets that and gives you a call.”

Me: “I’d prefer not to sign a blank form. The monthly rate isn’t even on here yet.”

Staff Member: “Oh, it’ll be $625. It should be fine.”

Me: “Yeah, I’d still prefer for that to be written on the form before I sign it.” *Stands up* “I’m going to have to get some info from my co-signer, too, before I finish this.”

I did not go back.