When the letter came on the last day of February, I had a foreboding. I’d noticed a certain energy around the building where Family Tree Mediation has had its office for the past six years, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. To begin with, the owner had put in a putting green in a little courtyard space near the rear of the building. Why not? I supposed. The space wasn’t really being used. Maybe the landlord, whose offices occupied the bottom floor, was an avid golfer? But then there were the new fences and the trellis constructed across the back wall facing the parking lot. As I came and went, in the morning and the evening, these details didn’t really register in my thoughts, but subconsciously there was definitely a whisper.
And then the envelope with the 90-days eviction notice inside on the door of every office on the upper floor. The space was being converted for a single tenant start-up. It’s a familiar Silicon Valley story.
We, people in general, or, heck, me-- I get rooted in my life and being uprooted, for me, feels dismaying. In case you haven’t checked lately, the commercial real estate market in Palo Alto and Menlo Park is no picnic. I’d had it good in my old office. I now understood just how good. I looked at a lot of depressing places at four and five times my old rent and a lot of them involved investment beyond just higher rent. Even the wonderful place I found after a month of searching, and a stressful episode or two in contemplation of other contracts, even this new, affordable, exciting prospect required just such an investment, not just financially, but of imagination, time, elbow grease, and judgment, risk assessment.
When I got the eviction notice, I had a foreboding of all this. A storm of sorts was about to hit, and I was in for a good month or two, possibly more, of hard work steering my business to a new home, while still seeing a full client load and making sure their needs were well met.