Reality on Realty

When you live in New York, you’re bound to get screwed over at some point. I’ve gotten screwed over by locksmiths, dry cleaners, bike repair shops and mango ladies — and I’ve only lived here for 8 months. The last thing I want to find is a real estate lawyer.

This isn’t because I think they’re crooks — we’re talking about real estate, not personal injury law — but I hate paying people for things I think I can do myself. I made an offer before consulting a lawyer. I have a Master’s degree in how-to-read. Literally. I should be able to read and interpret a document. Hell, I read Ulysses.

But before I got any more stubborn and ridiculous, I realized that contract-amending time called for a new, in-state lawyer that I’d just have to guess has the negotiating skills and helpful attitude I need. One that hands me a a hot cup of coffee and a bulleted list, with references, of the highlights in my offering plan and contract revisions. One that gives great massages.

So I settled for the lowest bidder that’s closest to my office. No massages, but he gets the job done. As I imagined, there are at least a hundred laws and customs particular to New York real estate that aren’t relevant to any other place I’ve lived, so my new attorney is making me feel more and more, er, insecure about my knowledge with every fact he throws on the table. This is a good thing.

My real issue? Being under 30 and stating phrases like “I spoke to my lawyer today…” are altogether horrifying and a little obnoxious. Maybe I should go back to school and become one.

Or, maybe I’ll suck it up and learn something.