Six Missed Calls From Random Number Suggests Last Weekend’s Shithole Still Available

KEITH T. DENNETT | New South | CONTACT

A local man is straight batting an over of phone calls this morning as he endures the hangover of a weekend spent looking at available rentals.

With his sharehouse lease wrapping up at the end of this month, performance marketing specialist Cameron Davis is now on the hunt for a nice one bedder for himself, as he dreams of a life where he doesn’t have to wake up to the sounds of his flatmates taking a dump in the tiny bathroom next door.

But after spending his entire Saturday inspecting three options in the French Quarter, and another two in the next door suburb of Beoota Ponds, Cameron says it’s pretty grim out there.

“This flat finding thing is so depressing,” sighed Cameron, as he looked across at his phone to see another missed call from a random number.

“Everything has one good thing paired with two negatives. It’s either in a good location, but part of a dank apartment block with mouldy carpets, and trash scattered throughout the stairwell.”

“Or it’s brand new, clean as a whistle, but is a 25 minute walk to the closest city bound bus stop. And right next to a humming data centre.”

Having given his phone number and email address to several Tarocash clad real estate agents on Saturday, Cameron is now ignoring hourly calls from people who treated him with complete disdain when he entered the shitholes they were showing off..

But now that there’s been zero interest from the public in paying $800 a week for a bathroom thats shower is held together with cable ties, it seems plenty of agents are now keen to chat.

“When you turn up to those places, they look you up and down like you’ve spat on their shoes. Plus they can’t answer a single question about the property.”

 “Come Monday they all come squirming back like the little leeches they are, hoping to dine on your predicament.”

 “I hate them.”