potrero view

September 2008

Fierce Competition for Spare Rooms in Shared Housing

By Kerry Fleisher

At 19th and Capp streets a boy adjusts his hoodie, takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door of a Victorian home three times.  He’s led through the porch-lit hallway to the kitchen, and greeted by a panoply of smiling faces.  About half the people — his competitors, he soon realizes — are smiling a little too eagerly, while eyeing him cautiously.  The competition is on: he has less than an hour to prove that his personality trumps his competitors, as judged by a handful of strangers.  If he prevails, he lands a $650 a month room in a shared apartment; if he doesn’t, it’s back to Craigslist.

For apartment-seekers San Francisco’s rental market is daunting.  Average rents have jumped by almost 10 percent since last year, to $1,926 a month.  Bay Area rental occupancy stands at more than 97 percent, compared to a national average of 90 percent.  Apartments are in tight supply from the Sunset District to Dogpatch.  

With trying odds facing would-be renters, spare rooms in shared living arrangements provokes stiff competition.  Competition is even fiercer when the shared apartment is located in the heart of San Francisco’s desirable Mission District, and can reach frenzied levels when the asking price for a fairly spacious room is only $650.  With the average price for a bedroom in the Mission $1,554, according to SFRentStats, that price is a practically a steal.

The snag, of course, is that hundreds of newcomers to the City think it’s a steal too.  The nine roommates at the 19th and Capp streets home were inundated with more than 100 responses to their Craigslist “roommate wanted” posting within an hour, prompting them to quickly pull their ad.

This colossal response isn’t uncommon.  Julie Barro, a CitiGroup analyst, has attended her fair share of open house and interview-style roommate searches over the past two years.  One apartment she looked at near Dolores Park received 400 applicants within a week.  At another shared apartment she moved out of, the person on the lease whittled down the market the traditional way: he raised the rent of her room by $400.  And he still received more than ten interested respondents.

More typically, housemates at shared houses – particularly in the Mission District – are of the progressive bent, choosing a roommate based on personality, not income level.  The roommate search protocol often follows one of three formats: one-on-one, group interviews, or – as is vogue these days – an open house, fraternity rush-style.  Open houses are considered a win for both sides: the housemates can vet the applicants in a social setting, and the applicants can appraise the housemates in a more organic context.

Michelle Russell, a Trader’s Joe employee, underwent the traditional interview while looking at a room on Pond Street in the Castro.  “I could tell I was their type. They were two gay guys and looking for someone laid-back,” she said.  When the interviews dragged on for hours, she worried a new arrival could usurp her appeal.  To her luck, she happened to know the neighbor across the street, who threw in a good word. “The connection definitely pushed me over the edge.  I knew I was in at that point.”

 Barro has observed a number of trends in the Craigslist postings for spare rooms.  “There are definitely people who post the ‘we’re artsy types’ Craigslist ads,” which emphasize how eccentric the housemates purport to be.  The ‘please bring food’ line that accompanies open house invitations can induce all sorts of groveling, according to Barro.  “The way people bring food to these things, it can feel like bribery,” she said.

The 19th and Capp streets housemates pared down their inbox of respondents democratically, and mathematically.  They decided that each current roommate should select five of the 100 applicants to invite to the open house; the ones who sounded “normal,” according to one housemate.  Of those selected only ten were able to attend during the two hour open house period.

The 19th and Capp streets Craigslist posting read as follows: “Eight rad people in the Mission looking for a new housemate.  We’re a teacher, carpenter, social science researcher, editor, social justice worker, and environmental consultant …$650/month …house is spacious, the walls are thick, and people’s schedules fairly diverse, so it’s surprisingly quiet…e-mail back with details about yourself.”  The open house invitation attempted to offset applicants’ qualms with warm words: “You have been selected from the mass and we are looking forward to meeting you…please bring a small snack to share…we hope this isn’t too intimidating or awkward.”  

The gathering played out like a typical open house: applicants were taken on tours, and details about the apartment were discussed.  The only salient difference was the mingle-and-linger element.  A few aggressively friendly candidates stayed as long as possible, introducing themselves to every last roommate, in what came down to a personal campaign to win votes.

Though the open house was laid-back and inviting, roommates were whispering their preferences throughout the two hour potluck.  Not a stranger to the process, the 19th and Capp streets roommates have hatched rules borne from previous experience. The person moving out of the house can’t attend the open house.  Everyone has at least one veto.  If there’s a deadlock, everyone votes for their top two, and votes are tallied, though the vote doesn’t constitute a final decision.  No friends of roommates are shoe-ins for the room.  The decision should not be based on the need to sustain a one-to-one gender ratio.

During the post-open house discussion roommate politics become personal.  Constructive criticism – “I think they were all nice” – has little place in this game:  “well that doesn’t help!”  Off-handed comments range from the benign – “she was really positive” – to the judgmental:  “he’s probably messy or a slacker.”

Losers who don’t get the call back often wonder what they could have done to increase their chances.  Note, future candidates at open houses, there are mostly circumstantial reasons for your dismissal: “she’s living next to me and she doesn’t seem the nocturnal type” or “a bartender doesn’t fit in this vibe.”  There are mistakes to avoid: “she didn’t take her jacket off” or “I feel like he was one high five too many.”  And some things can’t be controlled: “I feel blah about her” or “he was like a lost puppy.”

Ethan Garner, a biochemist, has attended roughly 20 interviews and handful of open houses in San Francisco over the years.  When he realized rents were going up in 2006, he developed SFRentStats, a website that imports rental prices from Craigslist and sorts them into plots by neighborhood and house size.  The website, which is updated daily, includes maps of rental densities and current listings superimposed on Google Maps.  Garner is designing similar websites for New York and Boston.

According to the San Francisco Planning Department, 1,500 rental units were converted into condominiums over the past two years, coinciding with the steady rise in rental rates.  Though not as high as the 50 percent housing cost spikes during the Dot.com boom, Garner was surprised by the upward price pressures in particular neighborhoods. “I was shocked by the increases in the Mission, though SoMa didn’t surprise me.”  Garner, who now lives in Cole Valley with his partner, said that his past experience with open houses and housing interviews was “sadistic, but kind of fun.”

The 19th and Capp streets discussions also veered towards the sadistic. During the post-potluck discussion, roommates discussed how current roommates had been selected previously, in order to stake a claim about voting procedures.  One current roommate, for example, learned she was selected by default; the two top applicants ahead of her were vetoed.  Still, the 19th and Capp street roommates were more tickled by these tales than annoyed.  A previous survivor even treated her case matter-of-factly.  “I was terrible in the interview.  I don’t know why they chose me, actually.  I must have been in a boring group,” she shrugged.  

This time around, the triumphant candidate was an effervescent Spanish woman living in the Marina, a neighborhood that Mission dwellers generally eye with extreme caution.  Her supporters insisted “she hates it there” and noted “she moved there directly from Spain.” After hours of debate, the feisty Marina resident was the chosen candidate.  The roommates sent her a congratulations email.  And then the unexpected happened:  she rejected them. Her email read as follows: “waw!! That’s crazy!! Thatsso cool! But I just got a place!!!! Like twenty minutes ago!”

 Stranger things have happened at the 19th and Capp streets.  Of the ten originals who moved in four years ago, one guy cheated on his girlfriend with another roommate, and when word got around, all three packed up and left.  Immunity is hard to come by, even for incumbents.

After their “number one” rejected them, the 19th and Capp streets entourage had two options: select a runner’s up, or host another open house.  With little time before the rent check due date, they decided on the former.  The woman who ultimately landed the roommate gig never drummed up fervent support, but her understated appeal was crucial.  And at 19th and Capp streets, runners-up have a high success rate:  the top two uber-charming candidates are often vetoed by one or two skeptics.

The winner’s self-description, sent by email prior to the open house, capitalized on some of the most sought-after qualities in a Mission roommate.  She wrote: “I have an unhealthy addiction to swap meets and thrift stores” [check: potential to borrow clothes].  “I am a very generic bike-riding vegetarian” [check: self-deprecating].  “I like to sew, read the New York Times, and get lost on etsy.com” [check: self-consciously hip].  “I love going out to the theaters whenever I can. But staying in and watching some Antonioni, Godard, or Star Wars is just as good” [check: still self-consciously hip].  And it didn’t hurt that she followed up after the open house, with an email that affirmed she thought the potluck was a swell idea, too.  

For those newcomers looking to win a cherished place in a group house, take heed.  Don’t be weird. Don’t be unfriendly, or too friendly.  Cook good food.  If you’re 21, don’t say you act way older than 21.  And luck never hurts.

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