Thank you for your time in reading this (although I know you would have found this letter completely by accident as it is not a game or involves tips on how to make large sums of money by doing nothing).

I’ve been in China for 15 years. I’ve rented at least eight apartments in that time.

I came to you in search of an apartment for rent (so sorry that I’m not the rich guy you thought I was, looking to buy a multi-million dollar fantasy apartment that you’ve been promoting {more on this later}).

I had a list in my hand, written in flawless Chinese that stipulated: my price range, the size of the apartment that I wish to rent, the level of the apartment, the area in which I wish to live, the number of bedrooms and bathrooms, the required furniture, and the preferred method of rent/bill payments.

You nodded, you smiled and you said come back tomorrow at nine a.m. and you’ll show me some places that are available that will suit my needs.

At nine a.m. the next morning, you still weren’t at the office. You strolled in at nine-thirty, breakfast in hand, and looked at me like I was some sort of alien (which, according to you and your smirking compadres I must be). Once it finally dawned on you that I was, “That guy from yesterday,” you leaped into action by doing a search on Baidu for an apartment – any apartment – that was in the area, because you, of course, totally forgot that your job is to find apartments for people.

After another hour of searching and QQ’ing your buddies, you make a few phone calls, grab one set of keys from your desk and offer the back of your scooter to go and, “Choose from many, many apartments that are great.”

You take me to an area that is not the area that I want to live in. You sigh, roll your eyes, and decide that I’m going to be difficult. You fire old sparky up and it’s off to the area that I want. Conversation with you is impossible because your phone is glued to your ear when you’re not too busy SMSing your friends with the single word, “JACKPOT!!!”

You take me to a building, have a few words with the security fossil and then enter the lobby. You push both the ‘Up’ and ‘Down’ buttons for the elevator and smile at me some more. Well, time for small talk, “Where are you from?”, “Do you like China?”, “Do you like Chinese girls?” Elevator arrives, we get in and the agent pushes ‘3’. “Um…I clearly said above the tenth floor. Three is not above the tenth floor.” You sigh, roll your eyes, and decide that I’m going to be more difficult.

“Oh…but this place has everything else you wanted. Nope. Two bedrooms, one bathroom (a la Chinois at that), and a beautiful view of the neighbor’s apartment as the two buildings are about five meters apart.

“Listen. I told you, above the tenth floor, three bedrooms, two bathrooms (one of which must have a western toilet), no view of another building…” You sigh, roll your eyes, and decide that I’m going to be extremely difficult.

“No place like that in China!” you exclaim. “There is, I’ve always had one like that,” I retort. You sigh, roll your eyes, and decide that I’m going to die before the day is through.

Back to the office so you can more thoroughly check Baidu and actually do your job. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” You ask. No, I’ve been on a goose-chase with you all morning. Did you see me eat? I won’t get sarcastic…yet, “No, but I suppose you’ll be going for lunch,” I say. I do the western time check then add two hours to that, “I’ll be back at 2:30.” I leave and search for a restaurant that has cold beer, leaving me exactly 30 minutes to down “enough” beer and get back to the agent by the time I find said restaurant.

After lunch and the requisite nap, the agent is all smiles. “Many places that suit you my friend!” He beams and off again.

Next three hours: two bedrooms; three bedrooms, one bathroom; a place that has recently been converted from a abattoir; cockroach hotel; three apartments on the 9th floor; an apartment on the 23rd floor that is bereft of furnishings (or flooring); an apartment on the 10th floor (no elevator). Time for sarcasm, “Uh, could you please get off the phone for a couple of seconds? CAN YOU EVEN READ YOUR OWN LANGUAGE???” The smug ‘I’m a mover-and-shaker’ expression turns to a chastened child, “But, you are only one person, why do you want such a big place and so many things?” he whines. “Did it ever occur to you that I have a family and I’m only asking for what I need? (many expletives deleted)” I ask.

Back to the office, agent’s card thrown in the garbage. Repeat all of the above with two or three other agents. Agent found a week later finds apartment that matches my needs.

“So, this is okay?” She asks questioningly (is that even English?) “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for,” I nod my approval and she looks like she’s getting all warm and fuzzy inside. “The landlord will be here in about 10 minutes. You can talk to him!” We’re okay with that and we wait.

The landlord arrives, cigarette in mouth, and tries to hide the initial shock of seeing that it is a huge foreigner who wants to rent. After the ritual ‘Ni haoing’ and warm water all around, we sit down to discuss the particulars. It turns out that I’ll only have to go to five different banks to pay the rent, water, gas, electricity, cable, telephone and Internet bills and a trip to the management office to pay the management fee. The landlord then goes through the litany of questions everyone is required to ask foreigners (but does not ask me directly, instead choosing to ask the agent, like she and I have been on intimate terms for years), “Where is it from? What does it eat? It’s not going to kill anyone in my apartment like that foreigner who killed a real estate agent two weeks ago, is it?” The agent suddenly freezes and looks at me, I raise one eyebrow and smirk. After signing the lease in quintuplicate and red thumb-prints all around, I gave the agent a ride back to her office on my scooter that was taken in payment for teaching another agent a little about western culture.