You Get What You Pay For

One day while at my OB appointment I struck up a conversation with a young soldier in the waiting area -- or rather, she probably struck one up with me because you know, I'm usually not the strike up type but . . . turns out she was a soldier from my unit.  I wasn't exactly thrilled about meeting someone from my unit but she was nice enough.

A few days later having mustered up the courage once again to brave the Mess Hall, I went in for lunch.  I was sitting at the table forcing myself to eat when the young soldier sees me and sits at the table withe me.  After lamenting about our sicknesses and general pregnancy woes, I told her I was looking for an apartment but I wasn't able to get BAQ so I was hoping to find something I could afford.  The young soldier told me that she and her husband were searching for an apartment too but then they got into military housing so they didn't need an apartment after all  BUT there was a guy that worked in this very Mess Hall that owned some apartments and I should talk to him.

Sitting in the Mess Hall I was absolutely sick of the smells and inability to eat the food.  I had long ago grown weary of living in the barracks and I was so determined not to go through my pregnancy living in the barracks.  I was already feeling shameful for being pregnant out of wedlock and I wanted as much "normalcy" as I could possibly get.  At a moment of absolute desperation, I thought I found the perfect solution --the timing was perfect.  I was in the Mess Hall.  Someone in the Mess Hall owned an apartment.

A perfect match.

After eating or rather, not eating, I went and talked to the guy.  He was an older gentleman, had served 20 years in the Army as a cook and was now retired --well, working as an Army cook.  Sometimes you just can't break away.  He was very nice and I explained to him I was expecting and how miserable I had been and how I needed an apartment --

I guess I sounded pretty desperate.  He said if I could bring him one month's rent and the $200 deposit he could have a lease ready for me to sign that very day.  We shook on it, I headed off to the bank to withdraw the funds.  Oh, the apartment was furnished too.  I mean, how PERFECT was this going to be?

Let's not forget I'm a JAG soldier --do you not recall the stories I told about soldiers getting themselves into bad leases/legal agreements?  Should I have not been someone that KNEW BETTER? 

I'll blame the hormones --or lack thereof or whatever funky frame of mind my pregnancy put me into.

That evening as soon as I got off from work I brought the guy $385, $185 for the first month's rent and $200 for the deposit.

Yes, that's right I said only ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT-FIVE DOLLARS A MONTH.

You do get what you pay for.  It's true.

And if all of this wasn't enough RED FLAGS for you, I signed the lease sight unseen because you know, the guy made it sound so nice and he was so friendly and warm.

I handed him the cash, we signed the lease, he handed me the keys.  I just couldn't wait to get back to the barracks, pack up my things --AND GET TO GOING!!!