The Landlord

Well, after a great deal of stress, aggravation and numerous catch 22's that no one felt was worth while telling us about in advance, we finally have a house.  It seems that luck was with us as we not only have a house, but we have a great landlord on top of that.  Though for a few moments today, it didn't look so certain.

Among many lucky breaks we've had along the way, our new landlord is one of them.  As we traveled to the new place today to do the entrance inspection and sign the papers my fears were confirmed.  The chequebook that our new bank sent us, the entirely foreign and unusual chequebook that I was carrying with me to sign rent over to the new landlord, was in fact not a chequebook at all.  It was in reality a book of deposit slips to be used at the bank.  the bank had failed to send any cheques, but our lack of French failed to identify this lapse.  This was going to put a massive wrinkle in taking possession of our new, nearly perfect apartment.

It has been my previous experience that landlords like to be paid for the use of their property.  Paid upfront and in full.  Showing up with empty hands and pockets bare was entirely embarrassing and incredibly stressful. I didn't want to lose this apartment.  It has everything we need, and it's big enough to accommodate our things when they arrive.  Better still, we can afford it.  Or, we could if we had a way to pay for it.

Upon arrival we met with the landlord out front of the building and our wonderful relocation agent Sophie calmly explains we have no cheques to provide.  Of course, the conversation happens in French as we follow in tow on the way to the parkade to see our parking spot.  It is here that I expect the meeting to come to an abrupt end, and the large, grumpy looking landlord to walk away.  Sophie finishes explaining the situation and he merely shrugs, motions towards the stairwell as he proceeds down while replying to Sophie in French.  I am stunned and relieved that things haven't gone catastrophically wrong at this point, and he seems unphased by the news.

He shows us how to open the parkade door, points out the parking spot and mentions how the exit gate works.  No mention of the fact that Sophie effectively told him we cannot pay him today, or provide any guarantees to the property he would be handing over to us.

Oh, did I forget to mention we also did not have the rental insurance secured either, as our bank is closed on mondays?   The legally required insurance.   Yup, on the surface of it we were perhaps the LAST possible people that he should be interested in signing the apartment over to.  An accountant looking over a ledger of the positives and negatives of this deal would have canned it on sight.  But like I said, our new landlord is one of our very lucky breaks.

The entrance inspection continues, and smoothly I might add.  Sophie and our landlord, Monsieur Delannoy, move from room to room, gathering electrical meter numbers, noting the inventory and contents and generally proceeding like this was perfectly normal.   I may not know a lot about the French, or anything at all to be honest, but I know that this is not normal.

It seems however that Mr. Delannoy has taken a liking to us.  I suspect that at some point in his life he has lived overseas, and as a result knows how challenging it can be to get setup.  During our initial interview over the weekend, upon learning that we had recently moved here and spoke only English, our landlord began speaking English with us and shook off his otherwise gruff and imposing exterior.  He and he wife chatted in French and he related that they knew a friend, that lived only a few blocks from the building, who taught middle school and spoke English.  They suggested that she might be able to help us with our French and would introduce us.   At the time I should have taken that as a signal that we had already been accepted, but I was nervous and didn't pick up on it.  I was just happy he spoke English.

Flash forward to this afternoon, the entrance inspection over and a pile of papers for us to sign being passed back and forth to all parties.  We wrap up the signature process and Mr. Delannoy begins handing us a new stack of papers, one by one.  I am at first confused, as I thought we'd finished the paperwork.  Turns out these were not more papers to sign, but rather a small gift instead.

The first paper was a map of the local area he had printed off.  He had marked where our house was on this map.  The second was a transit system map which he had also printed off.  On this he had already looked up how to get to my office from the new apartment using the transit trip planning system.  The rest of the papers were various bus and train schedules and routes, on each of which he explained which stop was nearest the house and where to get off.

It was there and then that I realized that our new landlord didn't just pick us to rent the place, but actually liked us, and cared enough to make sure we knew how to get by in our new surroundings.  I've never had a landlord that cared any further than the money that comes in each month.  Up to this point we had told him we could even pay him on the day of signing.  This was overwhelming, as it's tough being in a country alone, and he I think he knew just how tough from experience.

As it turns out, Mr. Delannoy would prefer that payments be made by automatic bank transfer on the 3rd of each month, instead of by cheque, and that he was willing to trust us to provide proof of insurance soon.  It's hard for me to accept that he is so trusting and blatantly kind,  but at this point I am not in a position to question the nature of a new friend.

We have a few more days to sort everything out, which is welcome breathing room.  In the end, this new landlord is a gift, and it would have been impossible to manage any of this without his kindness and understanding.  For all the frustrations and run-arounds we've had in the last year trying to get here, it's incredibly heartening to find a decent, caring person along the way.