With each career at Penn State comes a latent education of little mistakes.

Sometimes we forget to take out the trash. Sometimes we forget to do our homework.

But a frequent and costly mistake many students make is having an apathetic approach to off-campus housing contracts.

Before the ink dries on a housing contract, Big Brother Realty has already thought of ways to squeeze another quarter out of your parents' old couch.

Living off campus entails much more responsibily than shacking up in a dorm. Because of my experiences with the various property management companies in State College, I've become an untrusting skeptic who is tired of realty companies rolling over my roommates and myself.

My first off-campus domicile was a large, four-bedroom house outside the borough. Before we moved any furniture in, we filmed every nook and cranny of the house. In doing so, we could prove that existing damage was not the result of our inhabitation. When we moved out, we received a bill from our realtor claiming we owed them more than our $300 security deposit from damages.

Our realtor refused to communicate in person (fearing that we'd get angry), so we channeled our anger and proof via a letter. Days later, our charges were revoked, probably because our video would have refuted the accusations.

Remember that you are the customer signing a $10,000-plus contract. Some charge an "application fee," which covers the cost of putting papers in a filing cabinet. Some charge you for subletting your apartment or house to someone else. Some will shovel your sidewalk and charge you for it -- even if you didn't request it and would have shoveled it yourself for free. The realty company said they shoveled my walk to save us from borough fees, but really they shoveled my walk to make a quick $20.

Even though it's a pain in the brain, every tenant should read every word of a lease contract. Every tenant should know which utilities he or she must pay and factor that into monthly budgets. And quarterly bills (water, sewage and garbage collection) are tricky, too.

When I returned to State College after winter break, I came home to a 45-degree house with an empty oil tank. After freezing my digits off, I had to pay more than $200 to refill the tank and get my heat back. The clincher was that I had to set up an account with the oil company, which requires a $20 new membership fee.

Perhaps it was my mistake for not asking about the procedures I needed to take to refill the tank.

Or is it my realtor's fault for not disclosing vital information about the process?

In closing, question every charge that appears on your moving-out bill. Realty companies have everything to gain by boring you with tedious and intricate rules surrounding your contract. And you have everything to lose by assuming State College realty companies care for their tenants. My words come from three bitter years with sour memories of three different realtors. There are more in this town and I hope they aren't as obtuse as the ones I gave my business.

The more you know about where your money (or your parents' money) goes, the less likely it is that you'll make a mistake that will cost you more than the price of books.