You’re Not Renting a Home. You’re Surviving the Modern Renting System.

At first, you're hopeful. Naive, even.

You polish your documents. You smile at your own bank statements. You write things like “non-smoking, quiet, financially stable” and mean it.

Then: silence. Dozens of applications. Nothing.

Sometimes you get an automatic rejection. Most of the time, you don’t even get ghosted. You just start doubting that the apartment was ever real.

Weeks go by. Your standards drop faster than your serotonin. You start thinking: “Maybe a mattress in a shared hallway isn't so bad.”

Then…miracle of miracles…you get a viewing. A real-life location. A door. A toilet. You’re in.

You lose sleep. You manifest. You light metaphorical candles.

Then…against all odds…you get a message:

“You've been selected.”

Wait… what?

You reread it three times.You check the sender. You open the attachments.

Is this real?

Statistically, winning the lottery is only marginally less likely than getting an apartment viewing and actually being chosen.

But there it is. In writing. You got it.

Not the dream apartment. But also not your parents' couch. You lower your expectations one last time, and you say yes.

It’s not perfect, but it exists. And that’s something.

You breathe out for the first time in weeks.

And then….the contract arrives.

What unfolds is not a rental agreement. It’s a 100-page novella.

Alphabetized A–Z breakdowns of every potential damage. 14 pages just to define “scratches”. Cost-sharing tables worthy of a UN negotiation.

Among the many contractual delights: A monthly fee of €50 for 'Inventory'.

Except the apartment is empty. Completely.

When asked, the reply came:“That’s for the floor.”

Ah. Of course. The floor. How dare I assume the ground I stand on wouldn’t be monetized?

I responded the only way my brain, fried from PDF scrolling, could manage:“Well, I suppose we’re lucky we’re not being charged for the walls, too.”

But then it hit me.

If I’m paying a monthly fee for the floor… and I feel relieved not to be charged for the walls…

…what exactly am I paying rent for?

Because this isn’t satire.

Empty apartment with €50 price tag on the floor...a satirical take on modern renting absurdity.

This is just Tuesday. In what seems to be the most accurate representation of a modern renting system, you find yourself paying €50 for the floor…