Today was not supposed to go down like this.
I was about to proudly announce that we were moving. That I was about to drop — before renovation — the tidy sum of €120,000.
The biggest check I would have ever written.
For weeks, I'd been waiting for the signing day like a kid before their birthday. A big present. For me, but also for all the artists I work with who deserve this new space.
Impatience. Doubt. Pressure. You can imagine.
I 3D-modeled the place. Ran some early render tests for the decor. Budgeted the renovation and furniture. I even rethought the shop's visual identity to make it more street-signage-friendly (wait — the sign is a coffee cup and you do tattoos? 👁️🫦👁️).
I even had time to flesh out a secret project I wanted to put at the heart of our new tattoo studio.
The day of the preliminary sale agreement.
Solemn and bureaucratic. At the notary's office.
On a video call with the seller and their notary — while their office is 200 meters down the street, but that's just a detail.
After almost an hour of explanations and going through documents: they casually drop that the condo association recently approved some work. Not just any work.
The facade. Just under €2 million.
Time stops. My pulse spikes. My pupils contract.
We put the video call on hold. I drink a glass of water.
At my share of the building, that's €35,000.
Turns out I have a horse with hooves, and under its hoof...
Nope. Nothing.
This is one of those things the real estate agent — out of slyness or carelessness? — conveniently left out, despite me asking pointed questions about it (I've done enough visits in my life, I know the drill by now).
The project stops.
Wasted time.
30 hours of 3D modeling. Hundreds of emails and research.
I'm not sure you'd call it a scam. But deep down, I feel like I was had.
So if you hear about a commercial space in Grenoble, between 70 and 150 m², for sale: hit me up.
