There are good landlords, there are bad landlords, and then some are downright criminal.

These particular slumlords had been abusing the system spectacularly. Their trick was to keep transferring ownership of the building between LLC’s, each owned by different but connected people. Whenever the city or the tenants tried to force the owner to fix the issues (essential issues of habitability, like exposed raw sewage, children exposed to lead, etc), they would just claim it was no longer their building and that ownership has transferred.

To solve this situation Orgnet tapped into obfuscated information and used it to find a solution. They connected the dots and followed the money trail like Prezbo from the Wire. Using social graphing, they found out how these LLC’s were all linked between two families, who had links to a bank. That bank kept transferring mortgages between the llc’s, and those LLC’s allowed the slumlords to take money from the buildings without putting anything back in. And using this info, they got convictions and won cases. 

Renthackr hopes to empower the renter in the same way. Help visualize the obfuscated and bring light to the darkness.

Learn the Lingo

“Winged” X bedroom - What, is my apartment a fucking a Pegasus? If my apartment is “winged” it better fly my ass to fucking work every morning, and take a dump on my ex boyfriend’s car. No, what they mean by this is that your apartment does not have a living room. A winged three bedroom is actually what in every other city/country is a two bedroom with a living space. Ah New York, the only civilized city I know where Lebensraum is a luxury, not a right.

“Railroad style” - Prepare to have your shame publicly broadcast to your roommates.

“Boxed bedrooms” - Shit ain’t got closets. Which is great, because it’s not like you OWN THINGS.

“Small” - I know I’m in for a doozy if they admit to the apartment being small. I clam up and get a feeling of GNAWING FEAR in my stomach as I a brace myself to be lead through what is nothing short of an urban habitrail. Throw in a wheel and some food pellets and I’ll sign the lease today!

“Steps away from XYZ” - Hyperbole at its finest. Fucking Kobe Bryant steps, maybe. On an island roughly the width of Roman Polanski’s rape vacation fortress, “steps away” can literally be used to describe anything. In Brooklyn, I am “steps away” from Manhattan. In Chinatown, I’m “steps away from the East Village.” On avenue D, I’m “steps away” from a comfortable place where I don’t have to worry about getting mugged and sexually assaulted.

Avenue C - Probably closer to D.

Between avenue B and C = Avenue C

Perfect for students = perfect for broke people who can’t afford anything but shit.

“Exposed brick!” - Do people actually like exposed brick? “You know, this apartment would be SHIT if wasn’t for all this EXPOSED BRICK. I’LL TAKE IT!”

Kitchen = living room with a stove in it.

Living room = hallway with a stove in it.

dishwasher = this is a typo. What they meant was gangbanging bedbugs.

backyard = an outside-ish space full of garbage from previous tenants where you can contract west nile.

“huuuuuuuuuge, sick deal, best, roof partay!, sweeeeeet” - empty words used by foreign Borat-lookalike brokers to lure naive young people into looking at shittacular apartments.

Williamsburg = Bushwick.

East Williamsburg = Really fucking Bushwick. Bushwack’d Bushwick.

Tell me, brokers, how far east does Williamsburg extend? The grand stop on the L? Or perhaps the Balkan mountain range?

Pets. You have four categories for pets.

1. Pets ok: this is like finding a fucking hundred dollar bill in a garbage bin of medical waste.

2. Pets not ok: at least they’re honest. Dicks, but honest.

3. Pets on a case by case basis: BRINE SHRIMP and Tamagotchis ONLY.

5th floor walk-up: the stages of grief

1. Denial: Guys, this will be great for us! We’ll get extra exercise and the view is great!

2. Anger: WTF DID THEY PUT IN ANOTHER FLIGHT OF STAIRS? AND DID THIS STAIRWAY GET NARROWER? FUCK YOU, STAIRS (multiply this x INFINITY if you are moving things).

3. Bargaining: Ok, I’ll meet you halfway down the stairs to give your keys. That’s the best I can do.

4. Depression: This usually entails me crying and eating Popeye’s at the bottom of the stairs and debating on sleeping on the floor.

5. Acceptance: You were a bad idea. I regret you, and will never make this mistake again.

6. Teleportation while drunk: How did I get up here? I can’t even fucking walk, let alone climb 10 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS.

4. Let’s Talk Brokers

Broker Fee: at least they’re being upfront about the fact they’re trying to rob you.

Negotiable fee: “lolz i want money but i’m desperate so…let’s work something out where you still feel violated and i can go get bottle service at da club, k?”

No fee: this apartment is shit. Take it and some waffle fries FO’ FREE.

“Oh, I’ll just call this one broker to see a specific apartment and won’t let them sucker me into seeing other crap.”

This was me a year ago—nubile, naive, and ready to keep my options open. Take into consideration the following things: 1. this apartment does not exist. It is a mirage. There is probably a nice Yuppie couple living in the apartment in those pictures. They’re probably paying 3x whatever you are willing to pay, and that apartment was never available in the first place; it was only posted to lure you into going to their sketchy broker company, signing a contract (and signing away your legal right to rent any of the apartments you see at their real, un-inflated cost). Let it go and move on.

“Oh, that apartment wasn’t available but you’ll show me other ones just like it in my price range? That can’t be too bad!”

Brace for inevitable shit show. This includes apartments HUNDREDS of dollars outside your price range, miles outside your location, vermin-infested dumps, apartments in the initial fuck phase of renovation, etc. All these can be yours and more for the low brokerage fee of one month’s rent. Once you sign that stupid contract KILLSELF is the only option. Especially once you see the same apartment you looked at for 600 dollars lower than the broker advertised and you can’t rent it because you’re legally bound to a pile of shenanigans and horse apples.

Almost every apartment being shown by brokers (fee or no fee) will be listed by a management company for significantly cheaper and less of a hassle. Not to say that management companies don’t suck donkey balls too, but at least you’ll get to deal directly with them and not have it mediated through someone whose fucking Devry degree or stand-up comedy career didn’t pan out.

If you see an apartment listed on CL that you like, but it’s listed by a broker (fee or no fee), check to see the address. Does it say some steaming bullcrap like “LOWER EAST SIDE AT MANHATTAN ST.?” If yes, then the apartment is available for cheaper. PROTIP: if you google-map the address “Lower East Side at Manhattan Street” your computer will implode and incinerate you immediately. Less retarded brokers will simply omit an address or just give you the neighborhood as in “EAST VILLAGE GEM STEPS AWAY FROM —the moon, al gore, my bff jill, etc—”

5. You finally find a place you love and apply. You might get fucked over for no reason. A. Someone else might apply for the place who sucks less than you. B. Someone else might be willing to pay more than you. 4. The apartment was never available and they just wanted your application monies. Go home, drink your tears, start search over, repeat.

6. A memo to STUYTOWN, PETER COOPER VILLAGE, ETC.:

Putting a bookcase in the middle of a room does not make it two rooms. I am sick of seeing ONE BEDROOMS listed as THREE BEDROOMS.

“lol, all u gotta do is put a bookcase here, install a wall here, then put a door in that wall, and then pull out the copy of Milton’s PARADISE LOST in the bookcase, thus activating the secret door. Take that path, race up to the observatory, spin the sundial and pass into the room of the golden idols. Once there, push down on their faces to release the doors, that may take you below or lead you into the shrine of the silver monkey.

Assemble the statue there and you may be headed for the torch room. If the elevator is up, you could jump into the elevator and descend into the mineshaft. You might climb up the ladder or plow through the stone wall. Find the key and it may unlock the tombs of the ancient kings, allowing you to climb into the spider’s lair. If you escape, you may have a chance to sit upon the throne of the Pretender. If the correct door is unlocked, you’ll be able to crawl into pit of despair and finally make you way through the cave of size, back to the temple gate.

The choices are yours and yours alone.

Good luck!”