Summary

A 27-year-old with $100k in student loan debt describes their experience apartment hunting in Colorado, balancing financial constraints with personal preferences and the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Abstract

The author, a 27-year-old English Literature and History graduate with significant student loan debt, shares the realities of apartment hunting in Colorado. Despite the challenges of a high debt-to-income ratio and the constraints of a state-wide lockdown, they embark on a search for a new home that is both safe and within budget. The hunt involves virtual and in-person tours, with considerations for commute times and the desire for updated amenities. The author encounters an unexpectedly priced unit, "The Llama Pad," which, while affordable and in a desirable location, raises concerns due to its unseen condition and the complex's questionable atmosphere, including a strong odor and lack of social distancing among residents.

Opinions

The author feels that despite being in their late twenties, they and their peers are not as mature or established as they had once perceived adults of similar age to be.
They express a sense of guilt and responsibility about their educational debt, especially since their degrees in English Literature and History are often deemed impractical.
The author has a pragmatic approach to their financial situation, opting to use book royalties to pay for further education to avoid increasing their debt.
There is a clear preference for a living space that offers both practicality, such as a garage for Colorado's snowy weather, and comfort, with updated furnishings.
The author is conflicted about the potential apartment, "The Llama Pad," due to its affordable price but is wary of the complex's culture and the inability to view the actual unit before leasing.
The pandemic has influenced the author's urgency to move out and find independence, despite the risks and oddities of searching during a lockdown.
The author values their home being a sanctuary that contributes to their well-being, given the stress associated with their job as a teacher.

What It’s Like Apartment Hunting — At 27 — With 100k in Student Loan Debt

It’s like House Hunters. But 27-ish.

Photo Credit: The Company Store (not the actual “llama door mat” mentioned later in this story, but pretty darn close!)

That means I’m in that weird ~late twenties category — I’m 27 turning 28 next month. Trying to hold onto youth, hatefully downloading TikTok as a joke, but also realizing I have to get it together.

When I was younger, I thought people my current age were “real adults” with “real lives”. Now, I’m convinced that none of us really know what we’re doing — and I’m exhibit A.

I live in Colorado, which is important to mention, since someone writing this story in New York City, Atlanta, or Dallas, might have a completely different take on this.

The backstory…

I have a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and History — according to most people, two of the most useless degrees you can possibly spend money to get — call me a weirdo, but I really enjoyed waking up to go learn about Russian Fairytales, World Literature, and Nazi Germany (I’m that History nerd).

Over my four years at school, I accumulated about 100k in student loans. My parents worked their way through school, and wanted me to do the same. At least my attendance was great — I felt really guilty skipping my 8am Psychology lecture all the way across campus when I knew how much I was paying for it in the long run.

Unfortunately, my loans are private, because my dad made too much from the only bonus he ever received in my entire adolescence for me to qualify for federal. I didn’t think too much of it, just went about my life, and got my degrees.

Two years later, I got a teaching license and a Masters, for which I paid my tuition outright — at that point I had written a book, so I used my royalties for that — I was not about to add to my swirling debt.

Four years later…

I still live at home. Most of my friends live with their significant others (hello combined income), or they have fabulous jobs across the world and live alone. Most of my friends also have parents who paid their way through college so they are mostly debt-free.

On Friday, I decided this was my chance to shine. My chance to leave the nest. My time to fly.

Are we in a state-wide lockdown? Yes.

Am I losing it? Maybe.

Did I still want to move? Yes. Well, mostly. Quarantine does crazy things to you, my friends.

The hunt begins…

I did some research and found that most complexes in my area were doing virtual tours. One was doing in-person tours, which I found kind of odd. I inquired about seven different potential apartments, ranging in rent from $1300–$1700. My take-home after taxes and loans (which are over $1000 a month) is about $2000, and that’s without budgeting for food, gas, and other basic life expenses.

My preferences (pretend this is House Hunters but I don’t have a partner that I’m completely disagreeing with for no reason): -A safe area -A garage (it snows in Colorado, and when it snows, it’s sometimes a Snowpocalypse, and I’d like to not have to dig myself out every time) -Somewhat updated furnishings

Things I’m going to have to also consider: -Commute time to work and back -Commute time to see family and friends -Utilities (+200 a month) -Internet + Entertainment (+100 a month)

The in-person tour…

I found a few places that I LOVE, but are a bit out of my price range. Or, I might just be eating rice for a couple of years until my income goes up, or until I can become a millionaire on teachers-pay-teachers.

I called a place nearby that I had visited before when a friend lived there. It seemed pretty upscale six years ago, so I decided to give it a try. A girl asked me some of my preferences (thanks, Shelby*) and called me back, saying she had found THE unit for me. She offered it to me for $1284, sight-unseen. I told her I did want to walk around the property, and she said that was fine, but I wouldn’t be able to tour the actual unit because it was occupied.

When I got there, no one was social distancing. No one was social distancing at all. I even witnessed a handshake. REALLY? I was perplexed and mildly horrified. I wondered why I was even there and numbly followed Shelby around the complex. She brought me through a maze-like interior with incredibly squishy carpet and strange patterns on the walls. It kind of reminded me of a warehouse…but carpeted. It was bizarre to say the least — and did not look like the place I had visited a few years back.

She brought me to the back of the complex and showed me my view, first.

Smart, Shelby. Smart.

That’s because it was a beautiful view of open space. There was a train track 20 yards away, and an airport two miles away, but that didn’t bother me too much. What did bother me was that when we walked in, the entire hallway smelled like I had walked into Burning Man, Coachella, and a Boulder Fraternity House combined. I can’t even begin to describe it to you — and I’ve been to a lot of interesting locations in college.

The unit I would be inhabiting had a llama doormat — which I actually loved, but was potentially reeking of marijuana.

Shelby quickly walked me back over the squishy carpet where she asked me if I wanted to get started with a lease — I politely told her I’d have to sleep on it.

To be continued…

$1284 with garage parking is an incredible price for the Denver Metro Area for a 1 bed/1 bath, but not being able to see my unit is kind of sketchy. I know people do it all over the world all the time — trust me, I lived in NYC for a few months so I know how that apartment grind works. But I have a pretty high stress job (who doesn’t?) and I’d like my home to be something I want to come home to, and a place where I feel safe, happy, creative, and cozy.

So far, we’ll call it… Apartment #1, The Llama Pad.

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