This Was Not the Day to Mess With Me

Dear Mr. Richards,

If you send your rent to me one more time with a signature required, I will personally drive the 1,700 miles to your home to clobber you. It will take significantly less time to drive over to you than it will to wait in line at the post office one more time. It is Mesa Arizona. It is snowbird season. The line is way too long and my patience is too thin. You are seriously pissing me off.

Thank you,

Your landlord

Peace

A very funny thing happened. I got an e-mail from Mrs. Martin yesterday. Yes, she is moving out. Yes she is cleaning the place. No, I don't know when this is all happening. And, because it is the South, I am sure it will happen in due time--whatever that happens to mean.

Until I got Mrs. Martin's note, I hadn't realized how upset I had been about her. I wasn't looking forward to the expenditures of a vacant home. This includes cleaning out the former tenant's junk, any major repairs and the upcoming mortgage payment I need to make without the assistance of incoming rent.

The house needs a roof--which it will get because homes with holes in the roof tend to fall into the undesirable category when it comes to the whole rental home selection criteria. It will probably need a coat of paint and a few odds and ends. Homes always do.

Mrs. Martin's note was a welcome because I didn't have to employ Legal Eagle (no, this wasn't the case where she recused herself this week). I didn't have to go through he hassle and expense of waiting for Mrs. Martin to leave (assuming "due time" means "pretty soon") and I didn't have to put my imagination through the ringer of what kind of condition this house might be in. There really isn't much worse than the images that dance in my head as I wait for a tenant to be kicked out of a property.

I feel for Mrs. Martin and wish her the best. Through unfortunate circumstances Mrs. Martin ended up raising four children alone. She worked hard, but her paycheck was a slave to her rent payment. She really does need a less expensive alternative.

With any luck, Mrs. Martin will not cause me a lot of grief, and my only major surprise will be the roof, a carpet cleaning bill and maybe a coat or two of paint. At any rate, on to a new tenant who is in a better position to pay rent and all the best to Mrs. Martin.

Therapy Interrupted

I just can't write about this week's dramas.

I can't even begin to explain the magic my CPA did with Mr. Smith. CPA warned me I might be getting a phone call from Mr. Smith--who will be very unhappy when he hears from the IRS. It isn't that I am unable to talk about it, it is just too complicated for me to break down into a blog.

But, please! I invite you to join me in a moment of joy, while envisioning Mr. Smith opening up a letter from the IRS... Ah... that was fun, wasn't it!

My other excitement this week is Legal Eagle has recused herself as my attorney in another matter that is demanding my atteniton. Her firm is representing (in another case) the person I need her to go after (that case has nothing to do with me).

Right now I am vacillating between optimistic hope this will all get smoothed over and a bit of do-it-yourself legal advice from my favorite paralegal. If this all goes away--which would be ideal--I will be happy to share it with you folks.

I can already hear Bliz giving me her Blizdom... reminding me of all the goodness in our lives. I can hear her because she gave me this speech yesterday after we dicussed I might be a tad high strung.

Nah... this is nothing.

Today's Random Bama

Me: Do you have a soul?
Carolsue: Why? What have you heard?
_____________________

I realized it would be a long day when I finally went to the effort to read my phone's user's guide to figure out how to put Legal Eagle on speed dial.
_____________________

It is getting to the point where the stuff I can't write about is more interesting than the stuff I can write about. Sadly, you don't get to read about it until the witnesses are sequestered and the bad guys are silenced.
_____________________

While describing Mr. Smith to my CPA today.

CPA: He sounds like a posterior's orifice
Me: That is an insult to posteriors' orifices everywhere. He is more like the polyp found in a posterior's orifice.

One Thing

For quite some time, I have been following my "one thing" rule. Every day I clean one thing. Sometimes it is cleaning out a cupboard or cleaning the laundry room. Last week I counted the very act of showering as my daily "one thing." But then again, you home school, sell real estate, run an accidental business 1,700 miles away and do a variety of other undertakings and tell me how much YOU clean in a single day. Not that I am complaining. Last week was just busier than normal.

Before I went to bed last night, I decided my one thing was to clean my office today. It didn't happen. It has to happen soon, because the IRS doesn't really care if I need a clean office to take care of putting together all things tax related.

In the middle of the night, my one thing changed. Mrs. Martin has been weighing heavily on me lately. Mrs. Martin is different than Mr. Richards who returns my calls, keeps me posted on everything from his job to his son's report card (Junior made the honor roll for the first time) and tells me what day to expect his rent. Instead, Mrs. Martin is exhibiting the classic if-I-don't-answer-her-calls-and-e-mails-maybe-my-landlord-will-just-go-away behavior.

I have tolerated Mrs. Martin's antics for purely selfish reasons. Marty Sunshine and I own this home by ourselves without any outside partners. A vacant homes, including repairs (and there are always repairs), generally runs about three month's worth of rent. So, I was waiting to stock some extra cash away before I had to do anything about her.

In the middle of the night, I woke up and started fretting about Mrs. Martin. I knew instantly what my one thing would be. This morning I e-mailed Mrs. Martin and gave her an ultimatum. Pay or move. I told her if she left the home clean and move-in ready for the next paying tenant, and I didn't have to haul my backside to Birmingham to clean out her junk I wouldn't garnish her wages.

Now then, on to tomorrow's one thing--which will be starting the eviction proceedings.

The List

I keep a list of going concerns. This has everything from who is the deadbeat of the week, to which house needs the most maintenance, to what is going on with the housing market in Birmingham. Sometimes the most minor thing (to the casual observer) will escalate to the top of the list. One of the high points this week was whether or not to call Legal Eagle to ask about an insurance policy given to a former partner.

I met with Mr. Partner this week who gave me extra things to add to my list. They aren't good or bad. Just things. And, in all fairness. This is Mr. Partner's list too. He just doesn't have to review it as often as I do. And, to be fair, with Mr. Partner's blessing I was able to scratch a few things off the list.

I Was Only There To Buy A Bottle Of Water

Mr. Richards and I had a long talk today while I was at the the grocery store. The truth was, he was a pleasant break from the day I was already having.

This week, and today in particular, I have been working with real estate clients. I swear it was real estate clients J. K. Rowling had in mind when she created Dementors... Dementors suck out everything happy and fun in your life. They don't care what you are doing and have their own schedule and agenda.

But I digress. This blog is about property management in Alabama. How often I forget.

Back to Mr. Richards.

When Mr. Richards got home yesterday he found my love note taped to his door. Apparently this was an eye opener because he was under the mistaken impression he and I could dance around this game forever. He called to tell me when my money was coming. He then said a bunch of really flattering things that made me blush as I walked around the bakery department. I felt better. Somehow talking to tenants who owe me money brings out the yearning only satiated by the smell of fresh baked brownies.

By the time I got to the frozen foods, I had heard enough. I had already spent six hours with a dithering buyer who can't decide if any of the nine homes we saw today had the right fen shui and vibrations for her and did I think the seller would be willing to knock down a wall to make the home more harmonious? Mr. Richard's proclamations of my greatness was too much of a tax on my good nature.

As I rounded into the canned vegetables I laid into him. If he was so pleased to have a wonderful landlord like me, then he better figure out a way to call me before I call him. After all a man who says he is honorable certainly acts the part. An honorable man is upfront and proactive. Are you that man Mr. Richards? Or are you a man who skirts responsibility and waits for others to find you?

Here's a tip: if you want reduce a Southern man into fits of babbling embarrassment, just question his accountability.

The truth is, I really think Mr. Richards is just a flake who isn't used to doing things without the assistance of others. I suspect being single is a big challenge for him, as he has always had a mother/sister/wife to handle the everyday creature comforts he is used to. I also think he is really trying to build a better life for he and his son. He works two jobs. One is in an emergency room hospital, working 12 hour shifts. On the weekends he is a caretaker for an elderly woman he has been with for six years. He works there 12 hour shifts too.

I know the circumstances that put him into this financial predicament. They are legitimate. It wasn't from playing too hard. And, do I see the rent money coming in, just not on time. In my book, his biggest fault is that he doesn't seem to own a calendar.

This doesn't really change anything between us. I am the one owed. He is the one who pays. He can leave if he can't figure out how to write a check and slap a stamp on an envelope. I am crystal clear on this point and Legal Eagle is waiting in the wings.

As I rounded into produce Mr. Richards laid the bombshell on me. He is ready to buy. I can honestly say I had figured he had forgotten about this aspect of our contract. Given his track record, I was in no hurry to remind him. He apparently didn't forget. Once we established that I wouldn't discuss this until I was paid, I went into the similar speech I gave Mrs. 3001 recently.

I was at the cashier when I finally reached the crescendo of my speech. I said, "Those who don't take their rent seriously fail 100 percent of the time. I don't want this to be you."

The cashier muttered "Isn't that the truth," as I hung up with Mr. Richards.

Moving On

Mr. Richards announced to me a few weeks ago his lease was up this month. This was news to me, as I wrote the lease and the original copy is sitting in my safe. I double checked, nope.

All that said, I didn't correct Mr. Richards. Why bother? Though I don't find him as annoying as my past deadbeats, he is accelerating quickly in that direction. The one thing he has going for him is that his past history shows he returns my calls and pays up. This game however has gotten tedious and it is time for a change. So, yesterday he was served.

I have been on an emotional high this week, having all of my homes rented. But alas, the party has to end sometime. Now is the time for Mr. Richards to find another place to live and another landlord to frustrate.

Perhaps the Judge Said Don't Leave Town?

A bit of background here. Charles Barkley, a former Phoenix Suns basketball player, is from Leeds Alabama of all places. Apparently the people there are fond of him. There is even a Charles Barkley Drive/Avenue or something along those lines in Leeds named after him too.

On December 31, Barkely was arrested in Scottsdale for drunk driving. At the time he was arrested, he made some graphic comments to the arresting officer about where he was going and what would be happening once he got there. Perhaps he is quite familiar with the the woman who was leaving explicit texts on my phone?

I don't really have any opinions about this story. What I found the most interesting was the comments below the story, misspellings and all. After all, Alabama is the only place I know where a story about a retired basketball star can spark a conversation about the University Alabama/Auburn University rivalry and throw in a bible verse at the same time.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

I never thought--before I started this whole thing, that is--I would have to coach adults on mailing etiquette. But, apparently I do. Here is an open letter (pun intended) to those who send me monthly mail:

Dear Tenants:

The stamp goes on the right side, top corner. Anywhere else and the mail will be delayed.

If you are sending money through the mail (and undoubtedly you are), don't write "rent payment" on the outside of the envelope. I hate to break it to you, not everyone who will handle your mail will be honest.

A regular #10 envelope is sufficient. It will hold your rent check and any correspondence you wish to include. You don't need to send larger-than-normal envelopes that don't fit into my PO Box. Because, then I have to wait in line to pick it up. And, if that isn't motivation enough, your postage tends to be a bit higher.

I am a firm believer in recycling. But, if you reuse an envelope, please have the courtesy to put a label over the former address so my address stands out. And, it might be a good idea to put a label over the former return address. Do you really want Rent-A-Wreck or your check-kiting cousin Joey to accidentally receive my rent money if for some reason it does not get to me? Just checking.

An envelope from Alabama takes approximately four days to arrive. That would mean, if you sent your rent on Tuesday, I would have it by Saturday. So, if you tell me you are sending your rent on Tuesday and I receive it the following Friday, I am going to figure you lied.

And finally, for the love of all things holy, do not overnight your checks to my PO Box with signature requested. First of all, you will know if I don't get your rent check because I am going to call you. Second, this is snowbird season here in Mesa Arizona. The wait inside the post office to pick up your rent check in the summer is 45 minutes. In the winter, on a good day, it is more like an hour and a half. No kidding. If you learn nothing else from this, just take this one little gem away. PLEASE.

Thank you.

Wednesday's Agenda

As part of the fun of starting an accidental business five states away, my business partners like to be kept apprised of the key issues affecting their money and my sanity.

This week, I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Partner. This is the general let's eat lunch on the company's dime and get a status from yours truly. Sometimes these meetings have a lot of drama. This one probably wont, as I am not submitting any receipts for kegs of wine and vats of chocolate.

This week's meeting will cover:

The status of our mortgages, as some of them are ARMS and we need to refinance. However, like the rest of the nation, some of our homes don't have the equity gain we need. So, that might be a bit difficult but not impossible.

Completely unrelated to the paragraph above, one of our homes needs a new loan. It is a very long boring story and way too complex for this itty bitty spot in cyber blogging. But, that has transitioned from going concern to Hey! We Gotta Do This!!!!!

By the time I see Mr. Partner, one of my tenants will have received walking papers--but that fun is for another blog.

Mrs. Sherwood needs a stove.

Ms. Betty had rats.

Ms. Robin's house needs a new paint job. Desperately.

One of our tenants is very ill. Her situation is for another blog.

Barring any other unforeseen issues, Legal Eagle will be paid off this year.

Barring any other unforeseen issues, the plumber will also be paid off this year.

Repeat after me: WE ARE NOT BUYING ANY NEW HOMES RIGHT NOW. No. I am not kidding. Yes. I am serious. No. No. NO!!!!

Oh yea! It is tax season. He will will probably want to discuss that too.

This is Really Sweet

Jack e-mailed me to cheer on the Cardinals. I was touched he thought of me and thought enough to write me. I hate to break it to him. I am just a Giant's fan who is rooting for the Cardinals today.

The Magical Time of Year

It is tax season!

Bliz has decided to celebrate this notable occasion in Florida for the next few weeks playing with a very large Mouse and riding a monorail (Marty is a bit green). I have some serious anxiety that the cost of her vacation will probably come very close to the cost of my bookkeeping bill.

My accountant is doing his part by hanging out in Oregon. I will be doing my part to stimulate Green Peace protests by sending the equivalent of a small rain forest of papers to him, via every conceivable method available. I am not above sending tax statements via carrier pigeon if I can get a discount.

My job will be to act as the conduit by being the one who gets everything together for these well meaning folks. But, between you and me, accounting--or anything that structured and organized--is not my forte. And--pardon me while I have a pity party--I don't even get paid for my contribution.

Mr. Partner will be doing his part by riding all of us with weekly, daily and hourly calls wondering why we aren't getting him the necessary documentation so he can file his taxes. As far as I am concerned, he has no reason to complain this year. He is getting some great tax deductions.

A Little Gem

Mrs. 508 called to proudly tell me rent would not be late this month. I was pleased to hear from her. And yes, I was pleased to hear this item too. Looks like she is getting her act cleaned up. She and Mr. 508 are both working. They are going to be adopting the little boy they have custody of, and everything else is working out for them. Nice to hear.

Tilling the Soil

I am pleased to say, for the first time in 19 months, all of my homes are occupied. This feeling of satisfaction may only last a day or so, as I have someone threatening to move out. And, Marty Sunshine and I have already started placing bets on who is being kicked out next. But, for now--today--there is someone living in every home.

There are still some issues. Someone needs a roof. One of my homes is in a bad need of an exterior paint-job. There are bills to pay. Tenant issues to overcome. Tax season. And, there is my meeting next week with Mr. Partner where I get to give him the latest.

With the number of homes I own in the double-digits, there will always be something to post. So, the fun blog fodder will still be around. I currently have about seven future posts sitting in my draft box waiting to be finished or an appropriate time to post them. But, they don't have the current-event status of some of my former posts.

For me, one of the greatest things about my current lack of business drama is I have a chance to start looking forward at where I want to see my company grow. Because, I really do want to see the seed we planted blossom into the garden we envision.

What More Could A Girl Want?

It appears I have again found a renter for the home in Moody. A nice woman with a stable income and two children. She grew up in this remote patch of neighborhood. She knows the area. She knows the neighbors too.

No, no. Not those neighbors. But other living, breathing people on the street who don't like my former tenants. This leads me to believe she probably won't have my former tenants over for Easter brunch. Having the former tenants worm their way back into that house or trounce my reputation as a landlord has been a concern. I was really relieved when, after I broke the news that the former tenants still live on the street, she didn't run. In fact, that didn't phase her at all.

If there was one right thing she could have said, she certainly nailed it, "I hear they were a bit rough on that house. Just so you know, that isn't how I treat other people's property."

One of the things that impressed me was that she is currently living in Leeds and wants to leave that town as soon as possible. Actually, she wants her kids to go to school in Moody. But, anyone who wants to purposely leave Leeds gets extra brownie points in my book.

And, if this couldn't get any better, she signed a two year lease and I got the monthly rent I wanted!

Eek!

Mr. Partner apparently is on an extra-strong dose of Prozak today. He has taken to hurling self-esteem propelling catch phrases at me, "excellent," "fantastic," "way to go."

This is starting to freak me out.

If a Tree Falls in the Woods?

Ms. Robin's home backs up to the woods (a very esoteric concept for me). Last week there was a storm and a tree from the woods fell onto Ms. Robin's fence. Ms. Robin would like the tree removed. Or, maybe she wants firewood. I am not sure. Either way, she would like this resolved. So, I have a call into Andy, my convicted murderer lawn guy to take care of this.

Hasn't She Heard of E-Mail?

I counted. Ms. Betty has called me nine times since Saturday. Her calls range from "Did you get my receipt I sent two weeks ago?" to "We haven't seen a rat in days." By Call Four I was starting to wonder what this really was about.

I hate to say it, but it really does scream Mr. Smith. I get it. She wants me to like her. And, it isn't that I don't like her. But there is some truth to the adage: absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

I have been guessing her need for approval has to do more to do with putting me in a position to later on ask for a break if one is needed. I suspect, Ms. Betty thinks if she and I have a connection, how can I say no to some future unreasonable request to live in the house for free?

The truth is, right now I like all my tenants. And, whether I like them or not does not really have much of a bearing on whether or not they get breaks.

Yesterday, (Call Eight) the Betty's came clean. Mr. Betty got laid off. This call was to sweetly ask when exactly could they pay the rent? The answer to that question was pretty simple. On the rent due date. Fortunately, Call Nine was to tell me Mr. Betty also got a job today, so that shouldn't be much of a stretch.

1-900-Hot-Rent

For the past several days, I have had an enormous variety of texts and voice mails on my Birmingham phone. They are coming from the same phone number. Some of these texts are coming in very early in the morning, long after I have gone to bed and long before the rest of my family normally wakes up.

All the messages have the same overall gist. Apparently there is a very lonely woman out there who wants to see her man. And, if he would kindly just answer her voice mails/texts (to my phone) she would take really good care of him. Yea, I am paraphrasing here. She explained it in much greater detail.

At first, I texted her back, explaining her error. Nope, this wasn't him. Please stop dialing my number (PLEASE!). Then, when the voice mails hit, I figured my message saying I had a home in Moody for rent might be enough of a clue that her honey wasn't at this number. For whatever reason, she just wasn't buying it.

She finally called on Monday and I got a first-hand opportunity to talk to her. All pretense of a well-mannered Southern woman flew out the door as she demanded: "Why are you answering my boyfriend's phone?" I explained I wasn't. It was my phone and I have had this number for years. "Well. This is the number he gave me!" She replied with indignacy oozing from every syllable.

"I hate to break this to you," I replied. "But, it seems he is just not into you."

It is too bad she hung up right there and then. Because, if she is interested in renting a cute little home in Moody, she is welcome to call back. After all, her communication skills were pretty decent. I understood every word she said. She was articulate. She gave her name and number with every voice mail and continually followed up.

Insert Raised Questioning Eyebrow Here

I got a call today from some woman wanting to know where the house in Moody is actually located. With help from Google Earth and Yahoo Yellow Pages, I was able to fake my way through directions.

Her: Is it near the Cracker Barrel?
Me: About a mile north, at the stop light turn right.
Her: How far from the Baptist church?
Me: Which one?

It turns out out this woman was in the process of getting a divorce and looking for her soon-to-be ex husband. The warning bells went off right then and there.

Marty Sunshine wondered if she was looking for the biggest dump of a home to put him in as some sort of retaliation. For me it was even more basic. If this guy is getting a divorce and his soon-to-be ex-wife is having to find a home for him, what can he do for himself?

Ok, I understand some divorces are friendly. But, there comes a point in our single lives where society should expect us to take care of ourselves. A person who can't/won't take the time to find his own place to live is telling me he is either: a) helpless, b) inept, c) great at getting other people to do his chores (ala Tom Sawyer,) d) all of the above.

In any case, my experience tells me this is trouble down the road. If there is a small problem, will he whine until it is fixed? Will he rely on the former tenant/handyman who lives across the street to take care of some minor issue? Will he need monthly reminders to pay his rent?

Pet Peeve

I am doing my best to put a positive spin on not renting to Heather. But, today's pool of callers is a bit discouraging. The highlight of today's calls was a guy who had marginal communication skills and a pit bull.

His communication skills became worse after I told him I don't rent to people with pit bulls. Or, perhaps his communication skills improved. I certainly understood what he was saying after I broke the news to him. Honestly! Am I the first landlord he has ever encountered who has this issue?

My pet reasoning is pretty basic. The bigger or meaner the animal, the more likely the critter is to cause problems. Dogs bred for aggression have the extra stigma of possibly hurting someone. That causes additional liabilities for the landlord.

Most of the time pet damage is only a few stray potholes in the back yard, stained carpet (which will probably be replaced when they move out anyway) or a chewed-on door jam. All fixable. People actually tend to do much more damage.

The difference is people--no matter who owns the home--are responsible for their actions. The person with the asset is responsible for the pet's actions.

This One's For You

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

Albert Einstein

The Cold Hard Truth

Mrs. 3001 wants to transition from renter to mortgagee. How nice for her and Mr. 3001!

Normally, this would be exciting. Except, they are falling into a pattern I don't need a crystal ball to predict.

Mrs. 3001 e-mailed me this past week asking what the next steps in obtaining home ownership would be. Before I told her, I gave her a very frank unsolicited explanation about the failure rate of those who don't make their rent/mortgage a priority. Those who are a bit unclear on this particular issue fail 100 percent of the time.

This does not mean all of the people in my program fail--most, I am pleased to say--don't. But, what keeps the successful ones going is that they understand having a roof over their head is a priority and treat it as such. Mrs. 3001 has always paid. She has always been straight up with me. I don't worry about seeing the rent and I don't feel a lot of heartburn about them. The rent, no matter how late, always comes.

Mrs. 3001, the polite Southerner that she is, thanked me for my advice. She said she would consider it, though I don't know what that means.

My preference would be for them to wait a few months and get used to paying the rent without late fees. I would like them to get experience not e-mailing me on the rent due date to tell me rent will be two weeks late because something came up/someone died/they just didn't plan accordingly. I would like them to experience the freedom of knowing their bills are paid, their check didn't bounce and they don't need to juggle their finances. I don't care where they live or what they do. I think this would be a great reward for them under any circumstance.

Because my contract states they can go from tenant to purchase at this stage of the game, the 3001s are not obligated to stay renters. Success, of course, is up to them. Most of the time I don't have trouble with mortgagees. But, for people like Mrs. 3001, it tends to be an issue. And, the cold hard truth is I really hate kicking people out.

Well... Happy New Year to Me

And, to my four readers, a very Happy New Year's to you too!

It turns out Heather and her Marine/police man husband just aren't going to work out. That's fine with me. And, it isn't because Ernie told me not to rent to them (though I am certain she meant it with a great deal of sisterly protection).

I sent over the lease on Saturday. It was to start at 12:01 January 1, 2009. However, because I never received the lease and no money changed hands, it is not a valid contract. Therefore, I am not renting to them. And, at this point, I can gleefully tell them this.

Actually, I told Heather this in an e-mail earlier yesterday. I told her she had until 5 p.m. to contact me or produce the lease. If she didn't I would assume she made other housing arrangements.

I am pleased to tell you my phone is ringing off the hook for this house in Moody. I have a few people who say they are very interested. If not them, I am running an ad this weekend and I haven't even posted the home on Craig's List just yet. So, there is hope. And, it won't be some spoiled brat 20 year old who feels a sense of entitlement to spend my money on useless things like replacing fully functioning doors and lumber to replace a perfectly stable back deck.