Nestled throughout the sprawling ecosystem of Dunedin lies perhaps the most pervasive pest of all: the landlord. They come in all different shapes and sizes, marking territory in their own unique and equally infuriating ways. With each species of landlord comes a different experience. Critic Te Ārohi decided to launch an ecological investigation into the different breeds of landlords and compile them into a comprehensive list, so you know what kind of pest you’ll have to control the moment you sign your lease.
The Big Dogs
It’s fairly ubiquitous how shit the Dunedin flatting experience is. Cold, damp, and moldy flats are common stories amongst students. You might assume that these tips are managed by landlords who have too many properties to be attentive, but the results from our investigation were surprising. Turns out the Big Dogs, the ones who own upwards of 20 properties apiece, have some of the nicest properties in North D.
A lot of the flats owned by the Big Dogs along Leith, Grange, and Hyde are cookie-cutter new builds or ones that have recently been “refurbished”. However, having a nice flat that actually feels like a home comes at a pretty penny. Students from one such flat on Grange owned by AJ Hooker said that they were paying $900/week for 3 bedrooms. Ouch. The most common price range seemed to sit around $175 to $200/week per room. One student on Leith said they were “paying less [than last year] for a better flat.” What’s more, most of the Big Dog landlords actually seemed to get shit done. This could be down to the fact that owning a newly built flat means that, generally speaking, they’re pretty low maintenance. But still, having a communicative landlord is definitely a win.
Of course, there are still some classic dirty Dunners flats owned by the capitalist elite. But for the students lacking that sweet, sweet intergenerational wealth, it’s really the only option. One student on Grange was pretty open about the fact that his flat is “a bit of a shithole” for a place costing $150/week per room.
From a practical point of view, being dragged through Tenancy Tribunal is admin for landlords as well as students, so owning over 20 properties comes with a certain amount of responsibility. One student Critic Te Ārohi spoke to on Grange said, “I don’t know about the economics, but from a personal perspective the landlord is good.”
Critic Te Ārohi’s theory is that, since the biggest landlords are deep in the business of property management (*cough* hoarding wealth), they make it their full time job. One student on Leith told Critic Te Ārohi that “the flatting culture is greedy in Dunedin,” adding, “you’re forced to sign flats at least three months before moving in.” The student mentioned that her brother in Pōneke Wellington has had a much better time of it. “The culture [in Pōneke] is better because you start paying when you move in,” she said.
Rat Kings
The Rat Kings are perhaps the most well-known and notorious breed of landlord. While all landlords are in the business of exploiting capitalist structures of power inequality, no other breed does it more obviously than the Rat Kings. Critic Te Ārohi spoke with a group of girls on Castle that had the misfortune to end up in a flat owned by one such vermin. The flat had all the classics: black mold, holes in the floor (which also happened to be rotting away), glass everywhere, failure to meet Healthy Homes Standards, etc., etc.
To add to this, the place was a mess when they moved in. When they contacted the property manager, they were told: “Clean it yourself.” Now, Critic Te Ārohi is no expert, but that sure does not sound legal. So, we consulted one. Janet Robertson, previous Tenancy Tribunal adjudicator and current adjudicator of the Disputes Tribunal, told Critic Te Ārohi, “The Residential Tenancies Act requires the property to be ‘reasonably clean and tidy’ and ‘reasonably maintained’ [before tenants move in].”
Another student flatting on Fredrick told Critic Te Ārohi that they were “welcomed in true Dunedin fashion with mold, water damage, zero insulation, a floor so cold that shoes indoors was essential to avoid frostbite, a tiny office turned ‘bedroom’, and a room we were literally locked out of due to not being earthquake safe.” Nice.
These experiences are hardly uncommon, but that does not mean that they should be the standard. “It feels bad to complain, as it’s hardly a unique experience for Dunedin students, and one that’s just as commonly celebrated with a ‘gotta have a shit flat once’ attitude,” said the Fredrick Street resident. Critic Te Ārohi recommends that you should complain.
Ghost Landlords
Ghost landlords typically have a fair bit in common with Rat Kings and more often than not might be one and the same. This shifty breed of landlord typically owns fewer properties than the Big Dogs and hires property managers to “take care of things.”
Ghost landlords are identified by their absence. Their invisible presence makes it near impossible to get in touch with them directly. One group of students that Critic Te Ārohi interviewed on Castle said they have “no idea who the landlord is,” and have had “no communication” with them. Instead, the students only had “unreliable” contact with Cutlers, a property management company that manages over 80 flats. Unsurprisingly, when the students moved in, the flat had not been cleaned. However, when they got in touch with their property manager, they received an “apology” but were told that it’s the “landlord’s responsibility” to make sure that the flat was clean. This put the Castle residents in a bit of the ol’ catch-22 situation, forcing them to clean the property themselves.
These paradoxical scenarios of landlords hiding behind property managers which hide behind landlords are not uncommon. We can only wonder if, at a certain point, the zero accountability paradox opens a vortex to another dimension. Either way, if you find yourself in a similar situation, it might be worth taking your landlord to Tenancy Tribunal.
Girlboss Landlords
Girlboss landlords are the best of the worst; they are the lesser of two evils, the maternal figure you need, the home away from home. However, they spark an ethical conundrum within your soul. They make you think that commodifying the human right of shelter perhaps isn’t so bad after all. Girlboss landlords usually own a humble one or two properties, or they are property managers for smaller, more niche real estate companies like Darling Realty or Metro. They always have cool mom names like Jennifer or Christine, and are also usually Virgos.
Girlboss landlords reply to your emails in minutes. Your flat needs a repair done? Thanks to your Girlboss landlord, there will be a tradie over the next morning. Black mold or leaking pipes? Your Girlboss landlord will go to the ends of the earth to make sure you live in comfort and serenity. Lodged your bond refund form? Find your entire bond in your account within three business days. The Girlboss landlord is the type of landlord to leave chocolates behind after a flat inspection, and she will most happily be your flatting reference for all of eternity. But, like all girlbosses, she must be treasured and not taken for granted. Ethical conundrums aside, a Girlboss landlord is a deeply appreciated but rare species in the ecological system that is North Dunedin. But she’s still a landlord.
Outside of economics, if you find yourself facing off against your landlord about that oven that isn’t working, or that hole in the floor, you do have some power to fight back (legally, not literally). For the low price of $20, you can file a claim to the Tenancy Tribunal and be heard before an adjudicator within a few weeks. Just fill out a form online at https://dispute.tenancy.govt.nz/app/Extra/TenancyTribunal/Default.aspx?sid=638149473123258867. Whether you're after justice, compensation, or both, for $20 it’s worth a shot.