To begin with, I should say that I definitely had a favorite of the four places I applied for. Whether that showed up in my description of them, I'm not sure. Also, my opinion may have been biased by the likelihood with which it seemed I would be offered the apartment. It was almost as if I had tried to avoid disappointment in advance by resigning myself to favor the one I was most probably going to get. Of course, it was also the first place I looked at, (#1 on the map), and so these feelings were coupled with the natural reaction to be inclined to wonder what else was out there before settling for the first thing looked at.
Oddly enough, the plan didn't work out so well. To this day, I've not heard back anything from the owners of the first apartment I looked at.
* * * * *
Instead, shortly after mailing out the first batch of applications, the relocation agent emailed me to say that he had received a phone call from the management of apartment #2 on the map. (Yeah, the one that NOBODY voted for. The one close to the train tracks. The one -if I remember rightly- with the killer elevator.) They couldn't wait to send me the contract and said I'd get it in a day or two.
"Pffshaw!" I thought, "This isn't nearly as competitive as it seemed while standing around with a dozen other characters in other people's apartments. I'll probably get offers from all of them! I should maybe not even return the contract. ...not right away at least. Just to see what else comes back."
"Makes sense," said the relocation agent via email, "just don't wait too long for 'a better offer.'"
"I won't," I thought to myself, "I won't have to. I'll probably hear from them before I actually see this contract in the next couple of days." But I had to wonder: "what would living in this apartment actually be like?" The train tracks are close, I have to admit. But I'm not that far away from the actual rail station at the moment, and I don't really hear any of their noise now. Certainly not with the windows shut, even at night when there're virtually no other sounds competing for attention. And the rail station's where the trains are often the loudest, using the squealing brakes, energizing while accelerating, and so on. The noise probably won't be bad at all.
The location really isn't a big issue. Sure, it's a good deal further than the rest. But, during bad weather, the bus would practically stop right at my doorstep, before heading straight to the center of town only a short walk away from work. It's actually a clear shot by foot along a major road with few crossings. And half the distance is in the old part of town, where cars aren't allowed. Not to mention, there's a sidewalk the whole way. The exercise would be good for me, and no doubt I'll have a bike like everybody else in no time.
And the elevator? The Swiss are all about personal responsibility. Few things could make me feel closer to this culture than to live on the top floor of a place with a three-walled elevator. Besides, I looked at so many apartments, I may have been mixing up this elevator with one from another building. ...or they might replace the thing shortly. Nevertheless, I'll probably wait until I'm outside to put on my tie in the morning.
Here I go again, my subconscious trying to make me happy over things I have no control of. This isn't a terrible thing, just somewhat unsettling when you realize it happening to you. When I got the contract that Tuesday, my mind had changed almost completely from how I felt when I first signed the applications. I hadn't heard from any other places in the few days that passed. I began to wonder how many people I remembered seeing the offered apartment at the same time. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there was anyone else there. We had been early, but that typically didn't mean anything. There were usually lots of people waiting around. Maybe the place wasn't advertised as well. Maybe it was just too far out of reach of the station to be a very popular choice. Maybe I had been fortunate to have applied when I did. Whatever the reason, I now felt glad that the place had been offered, and I called up the agent to say I was ready to sign the papers.
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