#(sure you could risk parking somewhere for free but then the cops will harass and ticket you so you have to keep moving)

[awkward-teabag]

Absolutely. A large chunk of the rentals in my city (possibly half) are illegal suites because housing has never been a priority and multiple parties now have seen it as an investment (or in the case of the BC Liberals, an investment and a way to launder money). If there was enforcement, there would literally be no where for people to go.

Even shelters are out given they've been at capacity for years now, to say nothing about how most kick you out during the day and the impact not having possessions or a fixed address cause.

So no one complains and the government turns a blind eye because each illegal suite means one fewer suite that people might expect the government to build instead.

And then the same government and local councils fight tooth and nail against zoning changes so private developers can build something that's not a single family home or a condo. Condos that are junk half the time with the other half being built to be Airbnbs (thus extremely small—smaller than studio apartments—with no storage space) and most definitely overpriced where the better sizes and building quality get worse the more recently they were built.

As the province's average rent price for a one-bedroom apartment continues to creep above a range many of us can reasonably afford on our own, landlords continue to search for alarming ways to appeal to prospective tenants who might be strapped for cash.

Adjust your filters on rental websites like Facebook Marketplace or Kijiji, and you're bound to come across at least a handful of listings that fully invade the tenant's privacy.

In just the past year, landlords have gone to great lengths to earn additional income, including stuffing mattresses at the tops of staircases, renting out beds smack dab in the middle of kitchens, and even packing room to the brim with shared bunk beds.

The latest disturbing listing to emerge out of Ontario's rental market is a shared room in Kitchener for $485 per month for one male, or $450 for a couple.

The listing boasts the home's proximity to transit connection points, but glosses over the fact that tenants will have to share beds within less than a foot of each other.

Full article

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[asexual-hugger]

3 YEARS AGO

Early the next morning after her phone conversation with Detective Ernest Sinclaire, Allison McQueen hops on her bicycle and heads for Ledford Park Detective Agency.

What she finds is completely unexpected. It’s not a small office building at all.

“Holy crap. It’s a bloody mansion!” She can’t hold in her surprise.

She begins to walk her bike up to the front porch to knock at the door.

“Hey, do you live here?” A woman’s voice stops her.

“Sorry?” Allison turns to look for the source and finds a middle-aged woman standing in the street with her hands on her waist, staring at her suspiciously.

“I asked you if you live here,” the woman repeated. “I’ve never seen you here before, and I know everyone that lives around here.”

“I’m sorry—everyone?” Allison finds that hard to believe.

“Yes, everyone,” the woman replies coolly. “I’ve never seen you around here. If you don’t live here, I suggest you leave.”

Who was this psycho—the neighborhood watch?

“Actually, I was meeting someone,” Allison starts to say.

“Meeting someone?” The woman scoffs, not believing a word of it. “Who are you meeting? Do you even live here?”

“Miss McQueen!” An all-too-familiar and welcoming voice cuts through the disturbance. Detective Sinclaire has stepped out of his house and is running down the steps to see her.

“Detective!” Allison starts, looking relieved.

Sinclaire lays eyes on the busybody, looking calm and composed. “Allison is meeting with me, Miss Lucy,” he says slowly. “Have you been interrogating my employee?”

Employee? Allison hadn’t even started interviewing yet.

“Employee?” Miss Lucy voices what she’d been thinking. “Seriously, Ernest? Any ‘employee’ of yours has barely lasted two weeks! I was simply asking if this young lady lived here. There’s nothing wrong with that. You do know I know everyone on this street, and I’m only trying to keep the neighborhood safe.”

So she WAS the neighborhood watch.

“SERIOUSLY, Miss Lucy, I think you need to mind your tongue.” Detective Sinclaire keeps his composure, but there is annoyance in his voice. His arm goes around Allison’s shoulders protectively. “What I do at MY estate is not your concern. Miss McQueen is here as my employee, and the sooner you stop harassing her and go about your business, the sooner I can go about mine. Allison is far from a threat here. Toodles!” He gives her a wave and turns to Allison. “Sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone that comes down here. She believes it’s her business to get involved with everyone’s life.”

“Sounds like a Karen,” Allison comments, referring to the latest meme craze on the Internet. “Figured they’d be everywhere.”

Detective Sinclaire nods at her bicycle. “I can store your bicycle in the back,” he offers. “That way it’ll be safe from certain prying eyes.”

He glares towards Miss Lucy, appalled and disgusted that Allison had to deal with so much trouble upon her arrival.

“That would be great,” Allison says. “I wasnt certain on how to proceed.”

Sinclaire takes a key out of his pants pocket and unlocks a large gate leading to the backyard, and any awe Allison might have felt towards the front of the house only increases at the sight of the back.

“What do you think?” He seems to read her thoughts.

“It’s amazing. I was kinda expecting a small office building, and when my GPS directed me down a residential street, I thought I had entered the address wrong. I didn’t know Ledford Park was a freaking MANSION! Do you LIVE at this place?”

Detective Sinclaire laughs. “Yeah, that reaction is to be expected,” he says, amused. “And in answer to your question, I live here, work here, and pretty much do everything here, except when I’m called on a case, of course.” Pause. “So. Would you like the grand tour?”

“Sure, but maybe we should do the interview first,” Allison says. “I know you were probably trying to get that Lucy person off our backs by telling her I worked for you, but maybe I ought to at least prove myself to you before anything else.”

Detective Sinclaire’s blue eyes seem to sparkle. “A perfectly logical answer, Miss McQueen,” he says, “and yes, I did mention that to Lucy to get her away from you, but it wasn’t just a diversion. I meant every word.”

“What?”

“I meant what I told her,” Sinclaire repeats. “I don’t lie, Miss McQueen. As for the interview, I find that walking around helps me clear my head. I can give you the grand tour while we talk.”

He gestures invitingly, and they walk up the backyard steps into the house.

A long hallway stretches before them. Allison looks up. A skylight is carved into the ceiling high above her.

Holy crap, she thinks. If I get this job, I’m going to be working in a MANSION!

“The kitchen is on the right, and the bedrooms are upstairs,” Sinclaire is saying. “You’re free to help yourself to something if you need a break.”

“Detective.”

“Yes?”

“Erm.” Allison pauses. “Shouldn’t you be asking me some questions? Like, for the interview?”

“Would you like me to ask you questions?” Sinclaire looks indifferent. “Because I thought I made myself clear by asking you here and standing up for you with Miss Lucy. Also, you can’t forget our phone conversation we had yesterday. I brought you here so you could get to know Ledford Park and ask ME whatever is on your mind.”

“But...my resume,” Allison starts, shocked. “I brought all the required documents because I thought this was going to be a sit-down job interview. Can you at least look at my resume before you jump in and hire me? How do you know I’m even qualified? What if I end up disappointing you?”

“Miss McQueen, please! Take a breath!” Sinclaire stops her wild ranting. “Just...calm yourself. If you’d like me to look at your resume, I’d be more than happy to, but I don’t think I’m going to need to. As I told you before, Miss McQueen, you’re special. There’s something about you that makes you rise up above all the other assistants I’ve hired. You have something about you that I can’t quite place, but it’s unique. It’s different. You’re different. You’re a hard worker, yes? Reliable? Responsible?”

“I’d like to think so.” This was more like it. “I’m also punctual and always do what is asked of me.”

“Brilliant.” Sinclaire takes out a small notebook and starts furiously scratching in it with a mechanical pencil. “Reliable...responsible...does a thorough job...punctual.” He looks back up at her. “Did I forget anything?”

“How about how I’m studying criminal justice and want to be a CSI?” she offers. “My professors can be references. I always hand in my work on time, and I start my assignments as soon as they’re assigned. I take my time so I can do a good job.”

“Oh, I have your educational background already recorded,” Sinclaire answers. “I also have your professors’ names. You told me all of that when I was driving you home.”

“Wait. You remember everything I told you?” Allison is bewildered. “That was weeks ago! Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“Perhaps.” Shrug.

“But why?” Allison insists. “I’m probably just like all the other girls you’ve worked with. I’m a nobody. I’m a random criminal justice student at university. There are literally hundreds of us, and you chose me. Why?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why.” Sinclaire stops walking and looks straight into her eyes. She seems to lose herself in the vibrant blue. “Because I’m a detective, Miss McQueen. I read people. I watch people. I have a sense on which ones are special. You are not a nobody. You are somebody who can make something of herself. You know why I rescued you that night from that awful man in the car? It was because I could sense trouble. I could see you struggling through the back window. You needed help, and I was there. It broke my heart, but also sent fire up inside me when I saw what he was doing to you. It tore me to pieces. I was so enraged at how he put his hands on you, how he—he—he HURT you.”

“It felt personal.” Allison speaks softly. “You felt like it was your job to be the gallant hero cop saving a damsel in distress. You didn’t even know me and you took a risk saving me. Dylan could’ve had a knife somewhere.”

“Maybe he had the knife, but I had the pistol.” Sinclaire heaves a deep sigh. “Yes, Miss McQueen, you are right on all accounts. It did feel personal. The sight of him just putting his filthy hands on you...ugh! I don’t even want to think about it any more than I have to! Excuse me. I’ve got to go wash the vomit out of my mouth.”

He heads down the hall, leaving Allison alone. The place is so huge she has no idea where to explore first. If Sinclaire did mean what he said, and he was really going to hire her on the spot, she may as well get used to being here, because she is going to be seeing it very frequently.