Via Alamos Apartments

Oh Via Alamos. I’m giving you a one. I went in to look and apply in a moment of new single mom desperation, with fairly decent credit (I have a brand new car at a great interest rate) and a great job. I guess the fact that my job is 100% commission and I’ve only been there for a few months upset the business office so they declined me. Forget the fact that I make six times the rent and I could have put down a few thousand dollars for the deposit. Also, they didn’t even have the courtesy to call me after I paid my $ 35. I paid for you to give me a service. You’re lacking. Forget all of that. Let’s talk about the rest.
Ghetto. I mean this is the Compton of Green Valley. The office smelled like pot, the apartment was small and outdated, and the laundry area was sketchy. The little «gym» isn’t open 24 hours. I don’t want to work out on your schedule. I want to work out on my own.
I ended up going to Tucson to a MUCH better complex. I mean I’m in Beverly Hills in comparison. I am so glad that I didn’t move here.

A few years ago, I was in Green Valley, and I needed a place to stay. I was in a rush, so I knew I would end up with the first apartment that I drove by… That place I first stumbled into was Via Alamos.
I walked into the seedy rental office which was preceeded with a makeshift billiard room (for rentors only?). The lady behind the desk was neither cheerful or motivated… almost seemed as though she was questioning my reasoning for wanting to rent there…(«Here? Why would… Nevermind…») —-ALMOST VERBATIM!
Warning Flag #1
After all the preliminary paperwork was read and filled out, I asked for a tour of the room before signing. She said yes, and as we left the office, I noticed a dusty old sign propped up near the door, forgotten long ago. I could just barely make out the two words printed in faded Old-​English: «Caveat Emptor»
…Warning Flag #2
After a rushed walk through of the apartment, we went back, I filled out the paperwork, got the keys, then found out that my apartment was actually not the room I just walked through, but at the other end of the complex («Oh, it’s the same thing, I just didn’t feel like walking all that far.»)
Warning Flag #3
The signs are out there, folks. You just have to look for them. I didn’t, and for the next six months, «Keep off the Grass!» translated into «Cockroach Bed… Do not disturb.» Many of my neighbors repeatedly broke the noise level agreement in the contract, but I was unable to break away from paying for the place after I found somewhere else to live…“Caveat Emptor, indeed!”