Home is in the backseat of my SUV

The agency who runs my building had set aside another apartment for me to move into. Only whereas my loft was centrally located by both the parking garage and the amenities, the new apartment was located on the other side of the grounds, requiring two elevators and walking across the garage to reach. It was 50 square feet (4.6 m²) larger, but something about it—most likely its location—made me apathetic towards it. I told her I needed a couple of hours to think about it.

When I came to her that afternoon (all the while missing work and using my personal time to handle my leak) to tell her that I would take the place, I found out that someone else had rented it out. It was rented out the same day they offered it to me and the there were no more available apartments.

I got to work and openly weeped. My apartment building told me they couldn't fix my leak, nor could they move me elsewhere. My lease was terminated and I had to find a new place to live. After just sitting and crying at my desk, management told me to take the afternoon off as well, presumably to look for new places to live. But I just went home and cried.

I spent the next week looking for a new home during which I encountered an attempted mugging (needless to say, I chose not to rent there. Sidenote: it's probably preferable to not rent from a place that offers discounted rates for low-income tenants.) I saw another place that wanted an additional $20 a month for pet rent to allow my dog to live with me. That wouldn't have been so preposterous had the loft not been entirely constructed of concrete. Concrete walls, floors, ceiling. Besides feeling like a cold prison cell with one kick-ass city view, I asked the leasing agent exactly what damage my dog could do to a loft made entirely out of concrete that warranted an additional $20 a month. I ended my week by screaming at a different leasing agent, who had only worked there for 2 weeks, about false advertising.

Instead of pulling my SUV into my building's parking garage, I left it out along the street and entered my leasing office. None of the managers were there, but I didn't mind. I wasn't there to argue. I plopped down on the overstuffed sofa and explained my situation in detail to the agent on duty.

"I'm at the end of my rope here," I explained, completely defeated. "It's so stressful to know your living situation is undecided. I don't have a home."

"Why don't you just demand one of the larger apartments?" she asked.

I looked up, stunned. "What?"

"The manager messed up by renting out your new apartment. There are no more of your size apartments available for at least three months, but we have openings in the larger one-bedrooms. Don't tell her I told you this, but if you put up a fight, she'll give you the larger apartment. I've seen people get all sorts of free stuff since I worked here. I know she'll do it."

"So show me what you have available to move into right now."