You might remember the story of my Buckaroo using his birthday money to make a bear for the orphaned child in Mrs. 508's custody?
Well, Mrs. 508 sent a card to my Buckaroo thanking him for the bear. Much to Buckaroo's delight, the card plays the Hamster Dance. Over. And Over.
And, as expected, Buckaroo happens to LOVE this card. He brings it with him everywhere. Although we have drawn the line at being forced to listen to it while trapped in the car.
Yesterday, I called Mrs. 508 and left a message thanking her for the card and the pictures of this cute little boy (yes, she sent pictures). I then played the card for her to share the love. I let her know if I found a drum set, I would be inclined to send it her way.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
A Minor "Misunderstanding"
I seriously don't know which one of my tenants is the most maddening right now. Although Ms. Betty seems to have calmed down, she has left a lasting impression. Every call this week has given me reason to cringe (and I have talked to her twice since Monday. This woman so needs a life).
There is Mrs. Martin. Yes, that one. But she is for another day. I am just not in the mood today.
Then there is Mr. Richards. If he didn't amuse me so much I probably would be screaming at him right about now. You see, it was a psychic premonition that got Mr. Richards to call Wednesday. At the time of his voice mail, he hadn't heard from Red. Apparently Mr. Richards just had an urge to call. I guess he just figured it was high time he got back in touch with me.
I know this timeline to be correct because Red called me Thursday morning to tell me when Mr. Richards was served. Late Wednesday night. But, back to Mr. Richards.
As you may recall, Mr. Richards offered me a super deal that went like this, "I will gladly pay you on March 20th for a place to live today." My voice mail response was something akin to I am not stupid enough to fall for this. Yes, I used the word stupid.
Mr. Richards has since left two voice mails, telling me I "misunderstood" his message. He tells me he didn't say March 20. He said March 6. Silly me.
Just so you know, I kept the voice mail. I replayed it just to make sure I wasn't crazy. March 20 sounds nothing like March 6--even with his thick Southern drawl.
He also repeatedly told me he didn't think I was stupid enough to wait for March 20 for rent. Gee, it is all a misunderstanding, and if I would pretty please call him back he would like to make this right. He also gave me a long-winded action plan. I am getting he really doesn't want to move.
I haven't called him back just yet. I will. But let him stew a bit longer.
There is Mrs. Martin. Yes, that one. But she is for another day. I am just not in the mood today.
Then there is Mr. Richards. If he didn't amuse me so much I probably would be screaming at him right about now. You see, it was a psychic premonition that got Mr. Richards to call Wednesday. At the time of his voice mail, he hadn't heard from Red. Apparently Mr. Richards just had an urge to call. I guess he just figured it was high time he got back in touch with me.
I know this timeline to be correct because Red called me Thursday morning to tell me when Mr. Richards was served. Late Wednesday night. But, back to Mr. Richards.
As you may recall, Mr. Richards offered me a super deal that went like this, "I will gladly pay you on March 20th for a place to live today." My voice mail response was something akin to I am not stupid enough to fall for this. Yes, I used the word stupid.
Mr. Richards has since left two voice mails, telling me I "misunderstood" his message. He tells me he didn't say March 20. He said March 6. Silly me.
Just so you know, I kept the voice mail. I replayed it just to make sure I wasn't crazy. March 20 sounds nothing like March 6--even with his thick Southern drawl.
He also repeatedly told me he didn't think I was stupid enough to wait for March 20 for rent. Gee, it is all a misunderstanding, and if I would pretty please call him back he would like to make this right. He also gave me a long-winded action plan. I am getting he really doesn't want to move.
I haven't called him back just yet. I will. But let him stew a bit longer.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Clueless Mr. Richards
During lunch yesterday, I gave Mr. Partner a quick update on Mr. Richards. Essentially, I told Mr. Partner I would rather he limped along than pay Legal Eagle's son his next semester at Harvard (the boy is 7--but by the time we are done paying he won't be).
Anyway, Mr. Partner agreed. Let him limp if he is truly committed to staying, but at the first sign of trouble feel free to kick him out. Essentially, it is my call.
As a side note I have to tell you, this is a far cry from the alpha-landlord slap fights of the past. I am sorry I didn't get this particular directive in writing from Mr. Partner. But, no matter.
At the same time we were discussing him, Mr. Richards must have sensed something because he managed to leave a message to me right as I was digging into my pizza. I guess that means Red found him.
In his message, Mr. Richards asked me if I would "work with" him. And, if so, would I be willing to wait until March 20 for his rent. Um... No.
I would be happy to work with Mr. Richards. But, I am not willing to be stupid about it. And, I believe I used those exact words when I called him back. Mr. Partner got a kick out of Mr. Richard's message too, knowing full well, Mr. Richards had just crossed the line from reasonable to trouble.
What I did tell Mr. Richards when I called back and got his voice mail was that if he sent me a payment in the next few days I would call off the eviction. I didn't tell him what would happen if he didn't sent me a payment in the next 10 days, but I am guessing he isn't that clueless.
Anyway, Mr. Partner agreed. Let him limp if he is truly committed to staying, but at the first sign of trouble feel free to kick him out. Essentially, it is my call.
As a side note I have to tell you, this is a far cry from the alpha-landlord slap fights of the past. I am sorry I didn't get this particular directive in writing from Mr. Partner. But, no matter.
At the same time we were discussing him, Mr. Richards must have sensed something because he managed to leave a message to me right as I was digging into my pizza. I guess that means Red found him.
In his message, Mr. Richards asked me if I would "work with" him. And, if so, would I be willing to wait until March 20 for his rent. Um... No.
I would be happy to work with Mr. Richards. But, I am not willing to be stupid about it. And, I believe I used those exact words when I called him back. Mr. Partner got a kick out of Mr. Richard's message too, knowing full well, Mr. Richards had just crossed the line from reasonable to trouble.
What I did tell Mr. Richards when I called back and got his voice mail was that if he sent me a payment in the next few days I would call off the eviction. I didn't tell him what would happen if he didn't sent me a payment in the next 10 days, but I am guessing he isn't that clueless.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Southern Serving Process
I have four process servers. I bet none of my readers have ANY process servers in their life (with maybe the exception of Legal Eagle--who really isn't a reader except when I tell her I wrote about her or need her legal advice about a posting).
There was a time when I would have laughed at the person who, thinking them somewhat pretentious, had four process server phone numbers stored in their address book. Not any more. Now I would probably just greet that person with an all encompassed nod and sympathetic pat on the shoulder, fully understanding the gravity of their situation.
Oh wait? You wonder exactly what a process server does? Well, they are the guys you see on TV who hand an envelope (the summons is always an envelope on TV) to some drug thug or soon to be divorced dad with a snide comment saying, "see you in court."
Of course, in real life it is not that way. Generally it just someone paid to hand the summons to the deadbeat tenant. If necessary, that person must be willing to get dressed up and go to court saying, "yes, I gave him that piece of paper" or "yes, I left that piece of paper on her door and here is the photo of it, Your Honor."
In Alabama, all you need to serve someone is to actually identify the person and drop the note at their feet. Or, if they won't come to the door (because, in my case, they are hiding from me and other potential bill collectors), they can post the notice on the door of the deadbeat and take a photo of the notice. A process server's word goes pretty far with a judge over a deadbeat's word.
One of the reasons I have so many process servers is because all of them are located in the South. Things don't happen according to the Roman calendar in the South. So, I need to plan my process serving missions strategically.
Process Server 1: Mr. H. Doesn't own a calendar. Technology challenged (even more than yours truly. Hey! At least I know how to blog). Doesn't own a fax machine or a printer. In order to get him a termination notice, I have to send it by Fed Ex or the US Mail. So, if I want to evict someone on Tuesday, I better send him what he needs the previous Thursday and hope he is in town on Tuesday.
Process Server 2: Red. Doesn't own a calendar. According to Red, he was in a motorcycle accident six weeks ago where he hit a deer on the interstate. He is now limping around on crutches. Hopefully by Thursday he tells me he should be in a walking cast.
And, poor Red isn't driving much lately either. Last week I sent him a notice for Mr. Richards. It is now Wednesday and I am still waiting. Part of this reason I am still waiting is because Red was readmitted into the hospital this past weekend with a punctured lung (another byproduct of his poor motorcycle demise). He was sweet enough to joke that he was sorry he wasn't admitted to the hospital Mr. Richards worked at. Personally, I thought it would have been efficient.
Process Server 3: Carolsue. Yes, Carolsue, the Jill of all trades isn't afraid to slap a summons on some deadbeat's door and tell them to get their stuff and move the hell off my property. She might say it exactly like that, only adding "bless your heart" at the end. I know she owns a calendar. I gave her one when I was in Alabama last November.
Last week Carolsue moved across the street (I mean this literally) from Mr. Richards. It would have been perfect for her to serve him. However, she had no phone or e-mail. My smoke signal device wasn't working either. So, I called Red. Who still hasn't done it. However, I have another one for her to take care of, but that is for another post (stay tuned).
Process Server 4: I keep this one in my back pocket--Baseball Guy. Though I have a phone number and an e-mail address for him, the easiest way to get in touch with him is through Carolsue (which is the same way I get in touch with Andy, my convicted murderer lawn guy). So, if she isn't available, she can subcontract to him.
At any rate, my deadbeats get served. But only in due time.
There was a time when I would have laughed at the person who, thinking them somewhat pretentious, had four process server phone numbers stored in their address book. Not any more. Now I would probably just greet that person with an all encompassed nod and sympathetic pat on the shoulder, fully understanding the gravity of their situation.
Oh wait? You wonder exactly what a process server does? Well, they are the guys you see on TV who hand an envelope (the summons is always an envelope on TV) to some drug thug or soon to be divorced dad with a snide comment saying, "see you in court."
Of course, in real life it is not that way. Generally it just someone paid to hand the summons to the deadbeat tenant. If necessary, that person must be willing to get dressed up and go to court saying, "yes, I gave him that piece of paper" or "yes, I left that piece of paper on her door and here is the photo of it, Your Honor."
In Alabama, all you need to serve someone is to actually identify the person and drop the note at their feet. Or, if they won't come to the door (because, in my case, they are hiding from me and other potential bill collectors), they can post the notice on the door of the deadbeat and take a photo of the notice. A process server's word goes pretty far with a judge over a deadbeat's word.
One of the reasons I have so many process servers is because all of them are located in the South. Things don't happen according to the Roman calendar in the South. So, I need to plan my process serving missions strategically.
Process Server 1: Mr. H. Doesn't own a calendar. Technology challenged (even more than yours truly. Hey! At least I know how to blog). Doesn't own a fax machine or a printer. In order to get him a termination notice, I have to send it by Fed Ex or the US Mail. So, if I want to evict someone on Tuesday, I better send him what he needs the previous Thursday and hope he is in town on Tuesday.
Process Server 2: Red. Doesn't own a calendar. According to Red, he was in a motorcycle accident six weeks ago where he hit a deer on the interstate. He is now limping around on crutches. Hopefully by Thursday he tells me he should be in a walking cast.
And, poor Red isn't driving much lately either. Last week I sent him a notice for Mr. Richards. It is now Wednesday and I am still waiting. Part of this reason I am still waiting is because Red was readmitted into the hospital this past weekend with a punctured lung (another byproduct of his poor motorcycle demise). He was sweet enough to joke that he was sorry he wasn't admitted to the hospital Mr. Richards worked at. Personally, I thought it would have been efficient.
Process Server 3: Carolsue. Yes, Carolsue, the Jill of all trades isn't afraid to slap a summons on some deadbeat's door and tell them to get their stuff and move the hell off my property. She might say it exactly like that, only adding "bless your heart" at the end. I know she owns a calendar. I gave her one when I was in Alabama last November.
Last week Carolsue moved across the street (I mean this literally) from Mr. Richards. It would have been perfect for her to serve him. However, she had no phone or e-mail. My smoke signal device wasn't working either. So, I called Red. Who still hasn't done it. However, I have another one for her to take care of, but that is for another post (stay tuned).
Process Server 4: I keep this one in my back pocket--Baseball Guy. Though I have a phone number and an e-mail address for him, the easiest way to get in touch with him is through Carolsue (which is the same way I get in touch with Andy, my convicted murderer lawn guy). So, if she isn't available, she can subcontract to him.
At any rate, my deadbeats get served. But only in due time.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A Proud, Card-Carrying Member of Techo Dorks Anonymous
Marty Sunshine tells me he is an enterprise-level applications developer. Whatever that means. Just in case you know someone who is hiring for this kind of thing, he's available. To me, he is my lovable computer geek.
It is a good thing I have him, because I can't even install a simple print driver. And, I am not sure what that means either.
My incompetence in all things electronic seems to have few limits. The cell phone I got in December is way too complicated for me. It has a camera (phones have cameras!?) and now I have pictures on there I can't seem to transmit to the computer. I think I need to download a magic wand to activate it.
I only bring this up because it would be darn useful to be able to fax things to Bliz. Or, it would even be more useful if I could scan bills and send them to her. Sadly, something that sounds so simple to you, the casual reader, isn't so for me. I can manually hunt down tenants forever, just don't ask me to tell you about any electronic gadget that has the word "wireless" in it.
It isn't that I am afraid of technology. I just don't understand it. Nor do I really wish to invest six months of my life reading gobbledy gook that essentially boils down to one quick statement: "Marty, why is that thingy over there blinking?"
It is a good thing I have him, because I can't even install a simple print driver. And, I am not sure what that means either.
My incompetence in all things electronic seems to have few limits. The cell phone I got in December is way too complicated for me. It has a camera (phones have cameras!?) and now I have pictures on there I can't seem to transmit to the computer. I think I need to download a magic wand to activate it.
I only bring this up because it would be darn useful to be able to fax things to Bliz. Or, it would even be more useful if I could scan bills and send them to her. Sadly, something that sounds so simple to you, the casual reader, isn't so for me. I can manually hunt down tenants forever, just don't ask me to tell you about any electronic gadget that has the word "wireless" in it.
It isn't that I am afraid of technology. I just don't understand it. Nor do I really wish to invest six months of my life reading gobbledy gook that essentially boils down to one quick statement: "Marty, why is that thingy over there blinking?"
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Broken Panic Button
This past week, Mr. Partner finally realized the things I have been panicking about for months are legitimate. In a way, it was a relief that he was oblivious to the Summer 2008 Alabama Business Meltdown. It made last summer more bearable knowing I didn't have to have alpha-landlord slap fights with Mr. Partner. However, it would have been nice if he had been slightly cognizant to the after-effects--like our serious depletion of capital.
It isn't that I haven't been jumping up and down suggesting that we have some changes to make. Because, let me assure you, I have. And, it hasn't been just me preaching this. I distinctly remember Marty Sunshine sitting down with Mr. Partner last October and telling him: we needed a Plan B if the economy continued heading where it was heading.
Lo and behold! The economy is on that downhill run Marty predicted. Of course, there is the added bonus that Marty also lost his job, making us even more vulnerable.
Sitting tight and waiting it out is an option in times like this. However, before we sit back and reap the benefits (or spoils) of our labor, we really need to get everyone on board with the right assessment of what to do. NOW is the time for the Alpha-Landlord slap fight. And, I am ok if I sit on the sidelines for this one. Let someone else figure this out.
On Thursday, Mr. Partner sent me some information on what the pundents are predicting will be the short and long term affects of our economy and the stimulus plan. Mr. Partner (all 6' 5" of him) even told me he is "scared."
That's all well and good, but "scared" was months ago. Now it is time for action. We have some big-time decisions to make. Our success depends upon it.
It isn't that I haven't been jumping up and down suggesting that we have some changes to make. Because, let me assure you, I have. And, it hasn't been just me preaching this. I distinctly remember Marty Sunshine sitting down with Mr. Partner last October and telling him: we needed a Plan B if the economy continued heading where it was heading.
Lo and behold! The economy is on that downhill run Marty predicted. Of course, there is the added bonus that Marty also lost his job, making us even more vulnerable.
Sitting tight and waiting it out is an option in times like this. However, before we sit back and reap the benefits (or spoils) of our labor, we really need to get everyone on board with the right assessment of what to do. NOW is the time for the Alpha-Landlord slap fight. And, I am ok if I sit on the sidelines for this one. Let someone else figure this out.
On Thursday, Mr. Partner sent me some information on what the pundents are predicting will be the short and long term affects of our economy and the stimulus plan. Mr. Partner (all 6' 5" of him) even told me he is "scared."
That's all well and good, but "scared" was months ago. Now it is time for action. We have some big-time decisions to make. Our success depends upon it.
Friday, February 20, 2009
A Few Morsels
Easy as Pie
A while back, Mrs. Sherwood told me she needed an oven. I have since put her on a quest to find a range, report back to me the cost and I will cut her a check. Essentially, I the landlord, will pay for it. Just don't make me find it.
Mrs. Sherwood called today. I asked her about her oven search. She laughed and told me she was quite happy. Because of the lack of oven, she didn't have to host Thanksgiving and Christmas this past year. She isn't having to host Easter either. In fact, her husband has taken over the cooking. And, as far as she is concerned this is the best thing that has ever happened.
Sweet as Honey
One of my better tenants (whom I have never personally met) gave me a three month notice today. He needs to move when his lease is up. He asked if I had any homes available near where he wants to live because I "rock as a landlord." Sadly, I can't help him.
The Icing on the Cake
Ms. Batty, er... oops! that would be Ms. Betty, sent me an ultra-polite e-mail today announcing she and Mr. Betty wanted to buy my home. How much did I want for it? Though I am very happy to make an exception here, I usually insist on making my tenants rent to me for at least a year before I will sell to them. However I must tell you, if there was a way to get her out of my life, I would be happy to have them buy from me now. Unfortunately, last I checked (which was in late October 2008) these folks weren't going to be buying qualifying for a mortgage for a VERY long time.
Sigh... That's the way the cookie crumbles.
A while back, Mrs. Sherwood told me she needed an oven. I have since put her on a quest to find a range, report back to me the cost and I will cut her a check. Essentially, I the landlord, will pay for it. Just don't make me find it.
Mrs. Sherwood called today. I asked her about her oven search. She laughed and told me she was quite happy. Because of the lack of oven, she didn't have to host Thanksgiving and Christmas this past year. She isn't having to host Easter either. In fact, her husband has taken over the cooking. And, as far as she is concerned this is the best thing that has ever happened.
Sweet as Honey
One of my better tenants (whom I have never personally met) gave me a three month notice today. He needs to move when his lease is up. He asked if I had any homes available near where he wants to live because I "rock as a landlord." Sadly, I can't help him.
The Icing on the Cake
Ms. Batty, er... oops! that would be Ms. Betty, sent me an ultra-polite e-mail today announcing she and Mr. Betty wanted to buy my home. How much did I want for it? Though I am very happy to make an exception here, I usually insist on making my tenants rent to me for at least a year before I will sell to them. However I must tell you, if there was a way to get her out of my life, I would be happy to have them buy from me now. Unfortunately, last I checked (which was in late October 2008) these folks weren't going to be buying qualifying for a mortgage for a VERY long time.
Sigh... That's the way the cookie crumbles.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Insomnia
Last night I woke up thinking about our future to-do plans. The down housing market and state of the economy has significantly affected our little Alabama business. For a while, I was happy to remind myself of what was working. Now I need to start fixing those things that seriously need attention.
It is like having a car that needs tires, air conditioning and a radio antennae. For a while I was just happy to have any old transportation. Now I am looking at the tire tread and thinking, you know, this really needs a look-see.
Yesterday, I put a call into Mr. Partner to see if he was up for lunch. I really want to pick his brain about the future. I need to surround myself with people smarter than me to figure out how to fix some of our upcoming challenges. Mr. Partner may have fresh ideas. My ideas are stale.
Additionally, I have started doing a lot of reading. I am reminded of a Friends episode where the character Joey is reading "Little Woman" and comes to the part where Beth is ill and he is afraid Jo can't help her. The character Rachel offers to put the book in the freezer, as a way to abate Joey's fears and rid him from the scary plot line. Earlier this week, Bliz sent me the financials. If I could have crammed my computer into my freezer, I would have done so. I did not want to face the inevitable. I still don't. But it is part of being accountable.
It isn't only financial statement reading I am doing. I am fascinated by the current economic indicators, the housing market and how our future is going to gel with all that is going on in the world. What, if any, opportunities are available to us? If there aren't opportunities, then what? Nah... there are always opportunities.
I read this great line yesterday, "conformity strangles creativity." This is true in so many facets of life. Right now, I am applying it to our fledgling Alabama business. It will be creative solutions to get us through this. Because what has worked in the past isn't going to do us any good in the future.
It is like having a car that needs tires, air conditioning and a radio antennae. For a while I was just happy to have any old transportation. Now I am looking at the tire tread and thinking, you know, this really needs a look-see.
Yesterday, I put a call into Mr. Partner to see if he was up for lunch. I really want to pick his brain about the future. I need to surround myself with people smarter than me to figure out how to fix some of our upcoming challenges. Mr. Partner may have fresh ideas. My ideas are stale.
Additionally, I have started doing a lot of reading. I am reminded of a Friends episode where the character Joey is reading "Little Woman" and comes to the part where Beth is ill and he is afraid Jo can't help her. The character Rachel offers to put the book in the freezer, as a way to abate Joey's fears and rid him from the scary plot line. Earlier this week, Bliz sent me the financials. If I could have crammed my computer into my freezer, I would have done so. I did not want to face the inevitable. I still don't. But it is part of being accountable.
It isn't only financial statement reading I am doing. I am fascinated by the current economic indicators, the housing market and how our future is going to gel with all that is going on in the world. What, if any, opportunities are available to us? If there aren't opportunities, then what? Nah... there are always opportunities.
I read this great line yesterday, "conformity strangles creativity." This is true in so many facets of life. Right now, I am applying it to our fledgling Alabama business. It will be creative solutions to get us through this. Because what has worked in the past isn't going to do us any good in the future.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Adios
I haven't been sleeping well. Two nights ago I was having anxiety dreams about Mr. Richards. That prompted a call to my friendly process server to give Mr. Richards yet another love letter. My rule is when my anxiety manifests itself in a dream, it is time to move on.
And, more importantly, it is time for Mr. Richards to move on. He is the worst tenant I have right now. I don't care if he is a flake. He can be someone else's flake for a while. It has gotten to the point where I feel like I am begging for the rent. That is when I know the end is near. And, he hasn't returned my phone calls from last week. Usually he is really good about that. In the past when he tells me he is sending money, he does it. This time he sent in part of the money, but not all.
Good bye Mr. Richards.
And, more importantly, it is time for Mr. Richards to move on. He is the worst tenant I have right now. I don't care if he is a flake. He can be someone else's flake for a while. It has gotten to the point where I feel like I am begging for the rent. That is when I know the end is near. And, he hasn't returned my phone calls from last week. Usually he is really good about that. In the past when he tells me he is sending money, he does it. This time he sent in part of the money, but not all.
Good bye Mr. Richards.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Medication is Kicking In
I have a family member who bites the heads off of people when she doesn't get her way. A few weeks ago she asked if we could pick her up at the airport. Her flight would be getting in at midnight. Given her circumstances, I suggested she change her flight. That's when she went ballistic. Because of her behavior, she had to find a different ride.
Ms. Betty is similar to this. This past week, I have been bombarded with unusual e-mails from her with varying levels of caustic. The ones with lye are easier to read than the ones peppered with sulfuric acid. None are acceptable.
Her latest e-mail to me was coated with sugar. She is back to not calling me by my first name, but politely referring to me as Ms. Landlord. She mentioned she was sorry to cause me worry (whatever that means). The way I have been handling her is just to stick with the facts and answer her questions. when was her check cashed? What bank cashed it?
I am not conversing with her or getting sucked into her weirdness. I have successfully suppressed the overwhelming urge to tell her to jump in the lake. My e-mails are brief and factual. I am putting all of the drama in here for you to hear about.
Ms. Betty is similar to this. This past week, I have been bombarded with unusual e-mails from her with varying levels of caustic. The ones with lye are easier to read than the ones peppered with sulfuric acid. None are acceptable.
Her latest e-mail to me was coated with sugar. She is back to not calling me by my first name, but politely referring to me as Ms. Landlord. She mentioned she was sorry to cause me worry (whatever that means). The way I have been handling her is just to stick with the facts and answer her questions. when was her check cashed? What bank cashed it?
I am not conversing with her or getting sucked into her weirdness. I have successfully suppressed the overwhelming urge to tell her to jump in the lake. My e-mails are brief and factual. I am putting all of the drama in here for you to hear about.
Salt in the Wound
Ms. Betty is at it again. I am starting to even think the people in Leeds don't deserve to have someone like her living on their street. And they are a rough bunch.
Note to Ms. Betty: the first chance I get to kick you out, all bets are off.
Note to Ms. Betty: the first chance I get to kick you out, all bets are off.
Monday, February 16, 2009
I Hate It When That Happens
My CPA, who moved to nowhere Oregon last year, is in town for tax season. This is wonderful for me, as sending several sets of documents via carrier pigeon to the outskirts of the Pacific Northwest wasn't very appealing. And more importantly, I happen to really like the guy.
I had breakfast with my CPA last Friday. We discussed the state of the economy and our predictions for the future. He told me about how his grandfathers both worked on the Hoover Dam in 1931. We talked about his summers while in high school living in Tuba City Arizona, instead of working at the Tropicana in Las Vegas--where he wanted to be as a 16 year old lad in the 1950s (he grew up in Vegas). We updated each other on our spouses. I gave him a brief rundown on the kids, Marty's job situation and my opinion of the Phoenix real estate market. I even shared stories with him about the year I spent in Burlington Vermont as a teenager.
Oops! We never got around to discussing my taxes.
I had breakfast with my CPA last Friday. We discussed the state of the economy and our predictions for the future. He told me about how his grandfathers both worked on the Hoover Dam in 1931. We talked about his summers while in high school living in Tuba City Arizona, instead of working at the Tropicana in Las Vegas--where he wanted to be as a 16 year old lad in the 1950s (he grew up in Vegas). We updated each other on our spouses. I gave him a brief rundown on the kids, Marty's job situation and my opinion of the Phoenix real estate market. I even shared stories with him about the year I spent in Burlington Vermont as a teenager.
Oops! We never got around to discussing my taxes.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Suturing the Claw Marks
Ms. Betty has officially transformed from sweet Southern woman to vapid raging bitch.
This week I got a letter from her saying something to the affect that I wasn't cashing her rent checks fast enough. I don't know what "fast enough" really means. So, I did the only thing I could think of when faced with an insane statement. I ignored her, naively chalking her terse letter to a lack of polished writing skills.
The other day, she followed up with an snippy e-mail, telling me I was "messing with her checkbook" by not cashing her checks the day I receive them.
Ms. Betty doesn't know which day her rent is delivered to my PO Box. And, if I don't go to the PO Box for a week, the check just sits there anyway. But, somehow I am responsible for her finances being in disarray. It gives me cause to wonder if the water, gas and electric companies have also been privy to such treatment.
I am not sure what I am personally supposed to do. If she doesn't know how to use a checkbook register or more importantly, manage her finances, there is little guidance I can provide at this point.
This time, I responded to her e-mail with what I thought to be a friendly suggestion that she might want to send a cashier's check in the future if it was too much of an issue to wait for her check to be cashed. I personally thought it was a grand idea. From her inexcusably snotty response, apparently I inadvertently touched another nerve.
The way I figure it, the underlying subtext of Ms. Betty's e-mail was was that her money situation is too chaotic for me to let any check from her sit around for a day or two. Good to know! I will get to the bank right away.
Just a quick tip: Ms. Betty's bizarrely snide notes to me pretty much lost her any future favors. I don't mind a cordial relationship. I draw the line at downright rude and nasty. The adage is correct: you can catch a lot my flies with honey.
Marty Sunshine, the eternal optimist, pointed out Ms. Betty is probably frustrated about something else and it is landing as a money issue with me as the bad guy. And, my untimely bank run this week is a minor frustration manifesting itself as a big-ass problem in her life.
My thought is that she is pregnant and the hormones have taken over.
Neither of which excuses her behavior.
This week I got a letter from her saying something to the affect that I wasn't cashing her rent checks fast enough. I don't know what "fast enough" really means. So, I did the only thing I could think of when faced with an insane statement. I ignored her, naively chalking her terse letter to a lack of polished writing skills.
The other day, she followed up with an snippy e-mail, telling me I was "messing with her checkbook" by not cashing her checks the day I receive them.
Ms. Betty doesn't know which day her rent is delivered to my PO Box. And, if I don't go to the PO Box for a week, the check just sits there anyway. But, somehow I am responsible for her finances being in disarray. It gives me cause to wonder if the water, gas and electric companies have also been privy to such treatment.
I am not sure what I am personally supposed to do. If she doesn't know how to use a checkbook register or more importantly, manage her finances, there is little guidance I can provide at this point.
This time, I responded to her e-mail with what I thought to be a friendly suggestion that she might want to send a cashier's check in the future if it was too much of an issue to wait for her check to be cashed. I personally thought it was a grand idea. From her inexcusably snotty response, apparently I inadvertently touched another nerve.
The way I figure it, the underlying subtext of Ms. Betty's e-mail was was that her money situation is too chaotic for me to let any check from her sit around for a day or two. Good to know! I will get to the bank right away.
Just a quick tip: Ms. Betty's bizarrely snide notes to me pretty much lost her any future favors. I don't mind a cordial relationship. I draw the line at downright rude and nasty. The adage is correct: you can catch a lot my flies with honey.
Marty Sunshine, the eternal optimist, pointed out Ms. Betty is probably frustrated about something else and it is landing as a money issue with me as the bad guy. And, my untimely bank run this week is a minor frustration manifesting itself as a big-ass problem in her life.
My thought is that she is pregnant and the hormones have taken over.
Neither of which excuses her behavior.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Howdy Partners
Because I am financially obligated to my partners, last week, we immediately disclosed Marty’s job situation to Mr. Partner and Jack. Our personal goal is to make sure our financial crisis doesn't become our partners' financial crisis. So far neither seem too concerned. They understand the risks and rewards we all take. They are true investors.
Marty Sunshine and I have grown as investors and have honed our skills and our expectations. Just like my tolerance for crummy tenants has plummeted, so has my tolerance for so-called investors who have read half of the first a chapter of the latest make-money in real estate book. I will never again invest with someone who just approaches me just for my expertise. It isn’t that I mind sharing what I know. I just don’t want to be involved with someone who can’t stomach a broken hot water heater.
A major reaction from people who hear about what we do is simply to tell me about all the bad stuff they think I experience. They never say, “Wow! That’s great. You must like what you do.” Instead, I get well-meaning cliche's like, “I would not want to deal with an overflowing toilet at 2 a.m.”
Neither would I. I have never gotten a call at 2 a.m. from a tenant. In fact, at 2 a.m. a tenant would get my voice mail.
Overflowing toilets are a minor an issue. Broken air conditioners don’t scare me. Frustrated tenants don’t bother me. Hell, deadbeats don’t phase me any more. It isn’t that I enjoy these dramas, it is just that the great majority of the time I don’t encounter these issues. For the most part, I have excellent tenants. My homes are in good condition. I don’t like junky homes and expect my properties to be in good working order. I expect this of my own home too.
Marty and I are looking at expanding what we are doing. I don’t know exactly what this will look like just yet. But, my expectation is anyone who comes with me better have the right stuff.
My ideal partners must be able to read and understand financial statements. I don’t want to explain for the twelfth time why net income is different than revenue.
My ideal partners must understand things break. It isn't the end of the world when something doesn't work right. A home is a tangible asset, not a stock certificate. Homes aren't perfect. Pipes leak, rats happen. Having someone (a tenant) guard your property also causes unknowns. I have had great tenants leave. They didn't have an obligation to me. Their lease was up. They moved on. It wasn't personal. That doesn't change anything. Properties are sometimes vacant.
My ideal partners must be willing to give input but step back when necessary. You can have the vision. If you share it with me, we will both win. However, you cannot have a say in the plumber or the lawyer. I have developed a relationship with good quality vendors. They stay.
My ideal partners must look at a house like a piece of meat. They are not treasured homes to be decorated. That is your own property.
My ideal partners will understand the ups and downs of real estate investing. They will keep their drama in check. I have plenty without them.
My ideal partners will have patience for their money. Real estate is a long-term investment vehicle. These folks will understand this is a means to an end, because they too are true investors.
Marty Sunshine and I have grown as investors and have honed our skills and our expectations. Just like my tolerance for crummy tenants has plummeted, so has my tolerance for so-called investors who have read half of the first a chapter of the latest make-money in real estate book. I will never again invest with someone who just approaches me just for my expertise. It isn’t that I mind sharing what I know. I just don’t want to be involved with someone who can’t stomach a broken hot water heater.
A major reaction from people who hear about what we do is simply to tell me about all the bad stuff they think I experience. They never say, “Wow! That’s great. You must like what you do.” Instead, I get well-meaning cliche's like, “I would not want to deal with an overflowing toilet at 2 a.m.”
Neither would I. I have never gotten a call at 2 a.m. from a tenant. In fact, at 2 a.m. a tenant would get my voice mail.
Overflowing toilets are a minor an issue. Broken air conditioners don’t scare me. Frustrated tenants don’t bother me. Hell, deadbeats don’t phase me any more. It isn’t that I enjoy these dramas, it is just that the great majority of the time I don’t encounter these issues. For the most part, I have excellent tenants. My homes are in good condition. I don’t like junky homes and expect my properties to be in good working order. I expect this of my own home too.
Marty and I are looking at expanding what we are doing. I don’t know exactly what this will look like just yet. But, my expectation is anyone who comes with me better have the right stuff.
My ideal partners must be able to read and understand financial statements. I don’t want to explain for the twelfth time why net income is different than revenue.
My ideal partners must understand things break. It isn't the end of the world when something doesn't work right. A home is a tangible asset, not a stock certificate. Homes aren't perfect. Pipes leak, rats happen. Having someone (a tenant) guard your property also causes unknowns. I have had great tenants leave. They didn't have an obligation to me. Their lease was up. They moved on. It wasn't personal. That doesn't change anything. Properties are sometimes vacant.
My ideal partners must be willing to give input but step back when necessary. You can have the vision. If you share it with me, we will both win. However, you cannot have a say in the plumber or the lawyer. I have developed a relationship with good quality vendors. They stay.
My ideal partners must look at a house like a piece of meat. They are not treasured homes to be decorated. That is your own property.
My ideal partners will understand the ups and downs of real estate investing. They will keep their drama in check. I have plenty without them.
My ideal partners will have patience for their money. Real estate is a long-term investment vehicle. These folks will understand this is a means to an end, because they too are true investors.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Jack
In 2007, Jack, my real estate agent approached us about partnering. This time we knew better.
Before we went any further, Jack and I discussed capital. We talked extensively about expectations. We talked about the kind of business model we wished to use—which is significantly different than what we were doing currently. We gave him our credentials. We got a list of his credentials. He knows my experience. I know his experience. Neither of us are green to the landlord game. Neither of us are green to the business of being in business. This time we knew what we were doing. We drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
Jack is an exceptional partner. I wish I had more Jacks in my life. So far, we have bought one home. Although this isn’t ideal, this is the best we can do right now. I am certain there will be other homes in our future. Although with Marty’s employment future uncertain, I don’t know when we can change this. Perhaps another home will be in the works once Marty finds a job.
Although I am not crazy about the one home game, this one is ok. First, I have someone locally to manage it if necessary. Second, we bought it for the right price. The property is turning a very slight profit. But, we are ok with that. We all know what we were getting into.
Before we went any further, Jack and I discussed capital. We talked extensively about expectations. We talked about the kind of business model we wished to use—which is significantly different than what we were doing currently. We gave him our credentials. We got a list of his credentials. He knows my experience. I know his experience. Neither of us are green to the landlord game. Neither of us are green to the business of being in business. This time we knew what we were doing. We drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
Jack is an exceptional partner. I wish I had more Jacks in my life. So far, we have bought one home. Although this isn’t ideal, this is the best we can do right now. I am certain there will be other homes in our future. Although with Marty’s employment future uncertain, I don’t know when we can change this. Perhaps another home will be in the works once Marty finds a job.
Although I am not crazy about the one home game, this one is ok. First, I have someone locally to manage it if necessary. Second, we bought it for the right price. The property is turning a very slight profit. But, we are ok with that. We all know what we were getting into.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Mr. Partner
Mr. Partner has owned rental properties for twenty years. In fact, as his real estate agent, I have helped him buy and sell several of his homes. Though his enthusiasm is a bit overwhelming, the main thing that has really been a saving grace is Mr. Partner has always looked at what we are doing as a business—not an investment, or worse, a hobby.
For the first few years, Mr. Partner and I clashed. Two alpha landlords with quick tempers is not a good way to run any business. And, given that I am the managing partner—something written in our contract from the beginning, I was pretty sure this was my turf.
Mr. Partner has never really fully comprehended this. At least now we do have some sort unspoken agreement. And our truce slightly stronger than anything the Middle East may produce.
During one of the more maddening occasions with Mr. Partner, Marty Sunshine and I went out and bought some properties without him. Mr. Partner’s antics at the time were too annoying to deal with. Once Mr. Partner realized we still didn't need him, he became much more cooperative.
It isn’t that Mr. Partner doesn’t deserve to know what is going on. In fact, I feel very strongly in keeping Mr. Partner appraised at all times. It is that I don’t really have the time or energy to run to him every time we need a plumber/exterminator/convicted murderer lawn guy. He hears about repairs in a timely fashion. If something will cost an extraordinary amount of money, he hears about it sooner than later. He's good with that as well. Keeping him posted ensures I have more credibility. After all, it is his money too.
Once Mr. Partner got the bug invest, we began expanding very quickly. Mr. Partner has a maniacal streak. Our credit is exceptional. Money was cheap. Loans were easy to get. So we bought and bought. We grew fast, not smart.
The good news about this business model is when we do have a vacant home, we aren’t panicking. The bad news is when we have a situation like last June where we had three vacancies, two evictions and one bankruptcy in the same month, it can be harrowing. However, three vacancies, two evictions and one bankruptcy all at once doesn’t usually happen. And, if you are taking notes, it shouldn’t happen to you. It would be akin to lightening striking the same place six times in a row.
to be continued
For the first few years, Mr. Partner and I clashed. Two alpha landlords with quick tempers is not a good way to run any business. And, given that I am the managing partner—something written in our contract from the beginning, I was pretty sure this was my turf.
Mr. Partner has never really fully comprehended this. At least now we do have some sort unspoken agreement. And our truce slightly stronger than anything the Middle East may produce.
During one of the more maddening occasions with Mr. Partner, Marty Sunshine and I went out and bought some properties without him. Mr. Partner’s antics at the time were too annoying to deal with. Once Mr. Partner realized we still didn't need him, he became much more cooperative.
It isn’t that Mr. Partner doesn’t deserve to know what is going on. In fact, I feel very strongly in keeping Mr. Partner appraised at all times. It is that I don’t really have the time or energy to run to him every time we need a plumber/exterminator/convicted murderer lawn guy. He hears about repairs in a timely fashion. If something will cost an extraordinary amount of money, he hears about it sooner than later. He's good with that as well. Keeping him posted ensures I have more credibility. After all, it is his money too.
Once Mr. Partner got the bug invest, we began expanding very quickly. Mr. Partner has a maniacal streak. Our credit is exceptional. Money was cheap. Loans were easy to get. So we bought and bought. We grew fast, not smart.
The good news about this business model is when we do have a vacant home, we aren’t panicking. The bad news is when we have a situation like last June where we had three vacancies, two evictions and one bankruptcy in the same month, it can be harrowing. However, three vacancies, two evictions and one bankruptcy all at once doesn’t usually happen. And, if you are taking notes, it shouldn’t happen to you. It would be akin to lightening striking the same place six times in a row.
to be continued
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Vance
Vance, a man who invests primarily in stocks and does a considerable amount of day trading, was looking for a quarterly profit. We had enough homes that this was working out ok. If there was $100 dollars profit sitting out there, he wanted his share.
The issue this caused was it did not leave us money for emergencies. If something broke, I had to call him and ask for money. “Don’t we have the money to fix it?” he would ask. I would then explain for the zillionth time, no. Because he wanted all the profits divvyed out last quarter our bank account was low.
Vance wasn’t afraid of risk the way Jim was. But, he wanted everything he invested back out as soon as possible. That is why day trading is so appealing to him.
One of the properties we owned, we had purchased before the Phoenix real estate boom. Because the tenant moved out a year later—in the middle of the real estate boom—we sold it for a mind-blowing profit. Vance thought I was a genius. When the next property became vacant in a similar fashion but the timing wasn’t as great, Vance changed his opinion. Mind you, Vance made a profit on this property too. It was just not the mind-blowing anomaly we had seen the year before.
In 2007 when the Good Pastor was booted out, it was too much of a strain on Vance’s good humor. It cut into our profits. The frustration of uncertainty got to be too much for his reserved nature. He had never dealt with a deadbeat before (neither had I—and all Vance got was updates from me).
All of the landlord horror stories Vance had heard danced in his head. This was no longer the investment tool for him. He panicked. He questioned everything: “Why haven’t they paid? Why did you pick those people? Why did you select this house? Why? Why? Why?” It was very difficult not to take Vance’s questioning personally. In fact, I took it very personally.
It is my opinion—I have nothing to base this on other than a few comments Vance shared with me that I have strung together as well as his uncharacteristic actions and erratic behavior—that Vance got himself into some sort of serious financial hardship. I truly believe this played a major role in Vance’s behavior.
The homes are still there. There are new renters. They are cash flowing. But one bad situation and Vance was through.
Mr. Partner bought out Vance’s interests last year.
to be continued
The issue this caused was it did not leave us money for emergencies. If something broke, I had to call him and ask for money. “Don’t we have the money to fix it?” he would ask. I would then explain for the zillionth time, no. Because he wanted all the profits divvyed out last quarter our bank account was low.
Vance wasn’t afraid of risk the way Jim was. But, he wanted everything he invested back out as soon as possible. That is why day trading is so appealing to him.
One of the properties we owned, we had purchased before the Phoenix real estate boom. Because the tenant moved out a year later—in the middle of the real estate boom—we sold it for a mind-blowing profit. Vance thought I was a genius. When the next property became vacant in a similar fashion but the timing wasn’t as great, Vance changed his opinion. Mind you, Vance made a profit on this property too. It was just not the mind-blowing anomaly we had seen the year before.
In 2007 when the Good Pastor was booted out, it was too much of a strain on Vance’s good humor. It cut into our profits. The frustration of uncertainty got to be too much for his reserved nature. He had never dealt with a deadbeat before (neither had I—and all Vance got was updates from me).
All of the landlord horror stories Vance had heard danced in his head. This was no longer the investment tool for him. He panicked. He questioned everything: “Why haven’t they paid? Why did you pick those people? Why did you select this house? Why? Why? Why?” It was very difficult not to take Vance’s questioning personally. In fact, I took it very personally.
It is my opinion—I have nothing to base this on other than a few comments Vance shared with me that I have strung together as well as his uncharacteristic actions and erratic behavior—that Vance got himself into some sort of serious financial hardship. I truly believe this played a major role in Vance’s behavior.
The homes are still there. There are new renters. They are cash flowing. But one bad situation and Vance was through.
Mr. Partner bought out Vance’s interests last year.
to be continued
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Jim
The three LLCs were very different. Jim turned out to be seriously risk averse. And, he was only willing to purchase one home. This was naivety on our part. Given we had two partners who wanted multiple homes, we just assumed any new partners wanted multiple homes. At the time Jim approached us, we did not know he had no intentions of expanding past one property. And, in all fairness, he may not have known either.
One rental property does not work well. With several rentals, if one property needs a stove, or the tenant doesn't make a payment, the other properties can carry the load. Additionally, if one has a solitary rental property, and there is a mortgage on it, there won’t be much profit after a year. The property may turn a small profit and it provides a nice tax shelter, but generally one property isn’t a make or break investment vehicle. One property means waiting for the home to appreciate in value, selling it, taking the capital gains hit or converting it into a 1031 tax deferred exchange and doing it again.
Additionally, Jim was surprised when I started managing the partnership. This of course, was written into the contract from the beginning. And, he had no experience or time to do so anyway. I called the shots. I picked the bookkeeper (the same one managing my other LLCs), I picked the tenant. If something broke, I got it fixed and wrote the check on the LLCs behalf. Until this happened, Jim really didn't know this would bother him. In fact, I don't think Jim knew what to expect when we signed up to work together. But, for him this was too little control. In short, our goals and expectations were very different.
Mr. Partner bought out Jim’s interest a year later.
to be continued
One rental property does not work well. With several rentals, if one property needs a stove, or the tenant doesn't make a payment, the other properties can carry the load. Additionally, if one has a solitary rental property, and there is a mortgage on it, there won’t be much profit after a year. The property may turn a small profit and it provides a nice tax shelter, but generally one property isn’t a make or break investment vehicle. One property means waiting for the home to appreciate in value, selling it, taking the capital gains hit or converting it into a 1031 tax deferred exchange and doing it again.
Additionally, Jim was surprised when I started managing the partnership. This of course, was written into the contract from the beginning. And, he had no experience or time to do so anyway. I called the shots. I picked the bookkeeper (the same one managing my other LLCs), I picked the tenant. If something broke, I got it fixed and wrote the check on the LLCs behalf. Until this happened, Jim really didn't know this would bother him. In fact, I don't think Jim knew what to expect when we signed up to work together. But, for him this was too little control. In short, our goals and expectations were very different.
Mr. Partner bought out Jim’s interest a year later.
to be continued
Monday, February 09, 2009
The Partner Dance
Back in the day, we took any business partner who came along. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, without them, I wouldn't have this many homes in Alabama and I wouldn't have so much to write about.
Originally Mr. Partner approached Marty about real estate investing. Just like us, Mr. Partner owned properties in the Phoenix metro area. We had no conceivable idea what this really meant. A partnership sounded good to us. Half the risk sounded good to us. Some documents were drawn up, and voila! a partnership was formed.
Around the exact same time, Vance, a quiet reserved man, approached my husband about perhaps investing together. Vance primarily invested in the stock market. He wasn't a real estate investor and wanted to capitalize on our limited experience (two rentals in the Phoenix area). We drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
Here's where it got interesting. Mr. Partner, Vance and Marty all work at the same place (or at least Marty works there for a few more weeks). Mr. Partner, excited about this new venture, told anyone in a half mile radius about how great this was he and Marty were going to be real estate partners. Mr. Partner is one of those doesn't-have-much-private-in-his-private-life kinds of folks. Vance never told a soul--and we appreciate his discretion. In fact, Mr. Partner didn't know we were also partnering with Vance.
Although Mr. Partner was excited about this great union, every property we approached him about was turned down. This house was too new... This house was too old... This house wasn't waterproof and that could cause potential issues when the next ice age came along...
This went on for more than a year.
This was a stark contrast to Vance. I would approach him about a home. Give him the numbers (which I also did with Mr. Partner) and he would say in his reverent manner, "Yes, that looks very good." And, we would end up with a home.
Along came our transition to Alabama. Given that we had three homes with Vance and Mr. Partner really wanted to buy something, we went to Mr. Partner first. We gave him the numbers and said, "What do you think? Do you want to invest in Alabama?". Nope. The home was too far away. Too much risk.
We then approached Vance. He said, "Yes, this looks very good."
By this time, I had given up on Mr. Partner. We had a good thing going with Vance. Two more homes in Alabama and Mr. Partner got a clue. We didn't need him. Mr. Partner had figured this out and was none-too-happy. He wanted investment properties. We were no longer investing in Phoenix (the real estate market got too high). After a moment of clarity Mr. Partner realized if he wanted to invest with us, he would have to look to the South. So, he jumped on the Bama bandwagon.
As soon as he decided Alabama was the greatest place to buy rental homes--ever, Mr. Partner began telling his co-workers about what a great concept it was to invest out of state. Given he hadn't actually purchased anything with us, I appreciated his vote of confidence.
About six months into our Alabama adventure, another of Marty Sunshine's coworkers approached us about what we were doing. Jim had heard about our greatly exaggerated success of owning two properties (neither with Mr. Partner--his source) in Alabama. This time, we had financial statements. So, we showed Jim our overall vision. He had never invested in real estate and this looked good to him. A week later, we drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
to be continued
Originally Mr. Partner approached Marty about real estate investing. Just like us, Mr. Partner owned properties in the Phoenix metro area. We had no conceivable idea what this really meant. A partnership sounded good to us. Half the risk sounded good to us. Some documents were drawn up, and voila! a partnership was formed.
Around the exact same time, Vance, a quiet reserved man, approached my husband about perhaps investing together. Vance primarily invested in the stock market. He wasn't a real estate investor and wanted to capitalize on our limited experience (two rentals in the Phoenix area). We drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
Here's where it got interesting. Mr. Partner, Vance and Marty all work at the same place (or at least Marty works there for a few more weeks). Mr. Partner, excited about this new venture, told anyone in a half mile radius about how great this was he and Marty were going to be real estate partners. Mr. Partner is one of those doesn't-have-much-private-in-his-private-life kinds of folks. Vance never told a soul--and we appreciate his discretion. In fact, Mr. Partner didn't know we were also partnering with Vance.
Although Mr. Partner was excited about this great union, every property we approached him about was turned down. This house was too new... This house was too old... This house wasn't waterproof and that could cause potential issues when the next ice age came along...
This went on for more than a year.
This was a stark contrast to Vance. I would approach him about a home. Give him the numbers (which I also did with Mr. Partner) and he would say in his reverent manner, "Yes, that looks very good." And, we would end up with a home.
Along came our transition to Alabama. Given that we had three homes with Vance and Mr. Partner really wanted to buy something, we went to Mr. Partner first. We gave him the numbers and said, "What do you think? Do you want to invest in Alabama?". Nope. The home was too far away. Too much risk.
We then approached Vance. He said, "Yes, this looks very good."
By this time, I had given up on Mr. Partner. We had a good thing going with Vance. Two more homes in Alabama and Mr. Partner got a clue. We didn't need him. Mr. Partner had figured this out and was none-too-happy. He wanted investment properties. We were no longer investing in Phoenix (the real estate market got too high). After a moment of clarity Mr. Partner realized if he wanted to invest with us, he would have to look to the South. So, he jumped on the Bama bandwagon.
As soon as he decided Alabama was the greatest place to buy rental homes--ever, Mr. Partner began telling his co-workers about what a great concept it was to invest out of state. Given he hadn't actually purchased anything with us, I appreciated his vote of confidence.
About six months into our Alabama adventure, another of Marty Sunshine's coworkers approached us about what we were doing. Jim had heard about our greatly exaggerated success of owning two properties (neither with Mr. Partner--his source) in Alabama. This time, we had financial statements. So, we showed Jim our overall vision. He had never invested in real estate and this looked good to him. A week later, we drew up some documents and voila! a partnership was formed.
to be continued
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Once Upon a Time...
A bit of background. Marty Sunshine and I married in 1998 after four years of dating. So, I knew him well enough to know what I was getting into. Same for him.
Marty is extraordinarily ambitious. He is brilliant, disciplined and driven. He is the visionary. I am the worker bee.
We both came from very meager means growing up. Neither of our families knew how know to manage money. Hence, when we got married, we didn't know how to manage money either.
Right after my daughter was born, I cut back on my client list (I was doing free lance writing and public relations) but we still needed money. At one point, we bartered some of our wedding present for babysitting so I could work. There were days we scraped together enough money for diapers. It was lean times. We didn't know what we were doing right or wrong. We just were focused on surviving.
Marty, who did not want to live like this, started reading about wealth building. He was trying to get me interested in the same. I had no interest. I was overwhelmed with an infant, sleep deprived and juggling my freelance and public relations clients.
Marty Sunshine's desire for investing caused a bone of contention between us. He wanted to move our lives past just surviving. I couldn't see past my fantasy of one good night's sleep.
In a memorable argument, he asked what it would take to get me on the path to wealth building. I flippantly said, “real estate.” I figured it would never happen.
Marty is extraordinarily ambitious. He is brilliant, disciplined and driven. He is the visionary. I am the worker bee.
We both came from very meager means growing up. Neither of our families knew how know to manage money. Hence, when we got married, we didn't know how to manage money either.
Right after my daughter was born, I cut back on my client list (I was doing free lance writing and public relations) but we still needed money. At one point, we bartered some of our wedding present for babysitting so I could work. There were days we scraped together enough money for diapers. It was lean times. We didn't know what we were doing right or wrong. We just were focused on surviving.
Marty, who did not want to live like this, started reading about wealth building. He was trying to get me interested in the same. I had no interest. I was overwhelmed with an infant, sleep deprived and juggling my freelance and public relations clients.
Marty Sunshine's desire for investing caused a bone of contention between us. He wanted to move our lives past just surviving. I couldn't see past my fantasy of one good night's sleep.
In a memorable argument, he asked what it would take to get me on the path to wealth building. I flippantly said, “real estate.” I figured it would never happen.
Friday, February 06, 2009
She Likes Me, She Really Likes Me
Dear, sweet Ms. Betty isn't disappointing. Today she sent me an e-mail asking for my address. Getting an e-mail from her was a first. I guess the whole calling long distance got a bit tedious. I was getting concerned. I hadn't heard from in about 10 days.
As it has only been one week since the last piece of mail from her, I was kind of surprised she needed my address again. But, if it gets me the rent (as well as a few more pictures of her family), that's great too.
In my reply e-mail, I pointed out my address is on the lease. Page one.
As it has only been one week since the last piece of mail from her, I was kind of surprised she needed my address again. But, if it gets me the rent (as well as a few more pictures of her family), that's great too.
In my reply e-mail, I pointed out my address is on the lease. Page one.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Bliz
What would I do without my bookkeeper Bliz? Lately she has been doling out the love. For that, I am grateful.
For example on Sunday when she knew I had given up hope, she Twittered me saying: "Turn on the game." It was the fourth quarter. The Cardinals had come from behind.
Tuesday I lamented that I did NOT, under any circumstances, want to live with my mother-in-law when Marty lost his job (she offered). Bliz jumped right in and said, "You wont. You can come live with me." I don't know if this meant just me or my entire family. And, because she didn't exactly check with Mr. Bliz and we aren't homeless yet, it really isn't an issue. But, the sentiment made me teary anyway.
Yesterday, I mentioned I was avoiding taxes by taking the kids to the park. Hey! It was too a nice day to spend crunching numbers and doing data entry. Bliz knew better. I got a message from her telling me to get back to the taxes. As always, she had my best interests at heart.
I really don't know what I would do without Bliz. At this moment, I am not doing the taxes even with her. But, I appreciate her nonetheless.
For example on Sunday when she knew I had given up hope, she Twittered me saying: "Turn on the game." It was the fourth quarter. The Cardinals had come from behind.
Tuesday I lamented that I did NOT, under any circumstances, want to live with my mother-in-law when Marty lost his job (she offered). Bliz jumped right in and said, "You wont. You can come live with me." I don't know if this meant just me or my entire family. And, because she didn't exactly check with Mr. Bliz and we aren't homeless yet, it really isn't an issue. But, the sentiment made me teary anyway.
Yesterday, I mentioned I was avoiding taxes by taking the kids to the park. Hey! It was too a nice day to spend crunching numbers and doing data entry. Bliz knew better. I got a message from her telling me to get back to the taxes. As always, she had my best interests at heart.
I really don't know what I would do without Bliz. At this moment, I am not doing the taxes even with her. But, I appreciate her nonetheless.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
An Observation
Mrs. Martin is leaving. She expects to be out by next week. In her e-mails to me, she kept saying how sorry she is for disappointing me. I thought that was interesting.
I happen to think Mrs. Martin is a good, hardworking, ethical person who is doing the best with what she has been handed. When she moved in, there was a Mr. Martin. He has since voluntarily left the picture. She isn't a victim. She fully admits to her choices. And, instead of asking for help, she is just dealing with it. She flat out told me once, she is setting an example to her daughters of what not to do. She tells them often, "Don't make these kinds of mistakes. Don't do this to your children."
It floored me to think that perhaps Mrs. Martin felt she needed to break her back not to disappoint me--a perfect stranger. Maybe I am reading more into this than is really there. But, she has brought up the not wanting to disappoint me thing about six times. I think she means it.
I am not disappointed. I am pleased she won't be working extra hard for to keep afloat any more. I am pleased she won't be a slave to her home anymore. She won't be struggling to raise for children while working overtime and handling all the responsibilities for two parents and life in general throw at her.
Yes, I want her to succeed. But I want her to succeed in her life, not in where she lives. I can get new tenants. Her kids can't get a new mother. They need her more than I need an unreliable, stressed out tenant.
I happen to think Mrs. Martin is a good, hardworking, ethical person who is doing the best with what she has been handed. When she moved in, there was a Mr. Martin. He has since voluntarily left the picture. She isn't a victim. She fully admits to her choices. And, instead of asking for help, she is just dealing with it. She flat out told me once, she is setting an example to her daughters of what not to do. She tells them often, "Don't make these kinds of mistakes. Don't do this to your children."
It floored me to think that perhaps Mrs. Martin felt she needed to break her back not to disappoint me--a perfect stranger. Maybe I am reading more into this than is really there. But, she has brought up the not wanting to disappoint me thing about six times. I think she means it.
I am not disappointed. I am pleased she won't be working extra hard for to keep afloat any more. I am pleased she won't be a slave to her home anymore. She won't be struggling to raise for children while working overtime and handling all the responsibilities for two parents and life in general throw at her.
Yes, I want her to succeed. But I want her to succeed in her life, not in where she lives. I can get new tenants. Her kids can't get a new mother. They need her more than I need an unreliable, stressed out tenant.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
The Rainbow Maker
Have I mentioned my guy Marty Sunshine? He is the love of my life, the father of my children and my best friend. What more could a girl ask for?
This past week, Marty's company announced layoffs and Marty ended up as the receipent of a pretty pink piece of paper. He has been given a few weeks to find a job within his company before all bets are off.
In his usual Marty Sunshine way, he is handling this as an opportunity. So what if there are rain clouds? That will just make a stunning rainbow when the storm passes! Yep, that's my guy.
One might argue this isn't really a posting about a day in the life of an accidental business. However, when you are self employed, own a gazillion rental properties and are slightly under-capitalized this post could very well fit the bill for my theme. I promise.
As for me, I am frantically searching the sky for the storm clouds to pass.
This past week, Marty's company announced layoffs and Marty ended up as the receipent of a pretty pink piece of paper. He has been given a few weeks to find a job within his company before all bets are off.
In his usual Marty Sunshine way, he is handling this as an opportunity. So what if there are rain clouds? That will just make a stunning rainbow when the storm passes! Yep, that's my guy.
One might argue this isn't really a posting about a day in the life of an accidental business. However, when you are self employed, own a gazillion rental properties and are slightly under-capitalized this post could very well fit the bill for my theme. I promise.
As for me, I am frantically searching the sky for the storm clouds to pass.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Just for the Record
I should tell you, I really like what I do. I say this, because two of my six readers this past week told me that what I write convinces them NEVER to own rental properties.
It isn't so bad. Except when there is a lot of bad stuff going on. The bad stuff really stinks. Like this past summer. Just for the record, that REALLY sucked.
Most of the time, it is pretty easy, with an occasional frantic phone call about a gas leak (last week). And, as my tolerance for crummy tenants has reached a new low, I have to say, most of my tenants behave themselves. Thank goodness for that. Thank goodness for Carolsue too.
Most of the time, I just revel in the weirdness and the cultural aspects that come from growing up in a mega-metropolis and working with people from the South. The people and culture is still somewhat of a mystery to me. But, I am not the least bit sorry I have started my accidental company.
It isn't so bad. Except when there is a lot of bad stuff going on. The bad stuff really stinks. Like this past summer. Just for the record, that REALLY sucked.
Most of the time, it is pretty easy, with an occasional frantic phone call about a gas leak (last week). And, as my tolerance for crummy tenants has reached a new low, I have to say, most of my tenants behave themselves. Thank goodness for that. Thank goodness for Carolsue too.
Most of the time, I just revel in the weirdness and the cultural aspects that come from growing up in a mega-metropolis and working with people from the South. The people and culture is still somewhat of a mystery to me. But, I am not the least bit sorry I have started my accidental company.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Seriously, It is Only 100 Feet
One of the things I happen to like about Mrs. 508 is her resolve. Never have I met someone who has had every conceivable bad thing happen to them in such a short amount of time and see them bounce back. I swear to you, this woman has been jinxed six ways from Sunday.
The fact she hasn't been struck by lightening is a minor miracle. Now, let's take a moment to pause while we all knock on wood, say a novena or whatever other good luck you wish to bestow on Mrs. 508 so she isn't struck by lightening. I'm going to feel really bad if I get a call tomorrow telling me she was outside on a golf course during a thunder storm. I'm just saying...
Though I happen to like Mrs. 508 (even though her karma appears to really stink), I am not pleased with the way she has been keeping her home. No, MY home. And, with a small child living there, this is even more unnerving. This past week, I found out Mrs. 508 has been stacking tons of trash bags around her home. When I say tons, I am not being melodramatic. I saw pictures. There were a minimum of 50 bags.
What puzzled me the most, is why Mrs. 508 couldn't walk the extra 100 feet to the curb and dispose of this trash the way all Birmingham residents do. After all, rats don't only live in Leeds. By leaving it on the curb, the sanitation engineers will cheerfully come by once or twice a week and pick it up, thus leaving Mrs. 508 garbage bagless. I find this to be a novel concept. One apparently Mrs. 508 just didn't completely embrace.
I called Mrs. 508 a few times. And, I e-mailed her, telling her she was in violation of her lease and would she kindly remove her trash. All she had to do was pick up the trash bags and move them off the property. How hard is that? However, Mrs. 508 picked this week to not answer her phones or her e-mail.
Finally, I resorted to good old fashioned threats. My tenant shenanigan threshold has plummeted significantly in the past year. With the exception of Mr. Richard's signature required rent game (I swear that man is a flake), I don't tolerate much any more. This past week, I sent Mrs. 508 a letter, explaining there would be an inspection of the property later this month.
I knew this letter would promote action. I have a good relationship with Mrs. 508 and this would get her to call. She did call. But, she hasn't gotten the letter just yet. She finally got my e-mails. Yes, she knows about the garbage bags. Some of it is just donation fodder that needs to be given to the charity of her choice. Some of it needs to be walked to the curb (why is it still there?). Mrs. 508 assures me this will be done this weekend. She also assured me the non-working cars in her yard (not driveway) will also be removed. She further assured me this would not be an ongoing thing.
I explained to Mrs. 508 that I do not have ghetto homes. I do not rent to ghetto folks and I don't want anyone mistaking them for a ghetto family. Now Mrs. 508, act the part so you have a place to live.
I have not cancelled her inspection just yet. If she can send me photos of her new and improved yard with all the trash bags gone, I probably will. I don't wish to make enemies with a tenant--especially one who is paying. But, the first step is for her to take out the trash.
The fact she hasn't been struck by lightening is a minor miracle. Now, let's take a moment to pause while we all knock on wood, say a novena or whatever other good luck you wish to bestow on Mrs. 508 so she isn't struck by lightening. I'm going to feel really bad if I get a call tomorrow telling me she was outside on a golf course during a thunder storm. I'm just saying...
Though I happen to like Mrs. 508 (even though her karma appears to really stink), I am not pleased with the way she has been keeping her home. No, MY home. And, with a small child living there, this is even more unnerving. This past week, I found out Mrs. 508 has been stacking tons of trash bags around her home. When I say tons, I am not being melodramatic. I saw pictures. There were a minimum of 50 bags.
What puzzled me the most, is why Mrs. 508 couldn't walk the extra 100 feet to the curb and dispose of this trash the way all Birmingham residents do. After all, rats don't only live in Leeds. By leaving it on the curb, the sanitation engineers will cheerfully come by once or twice a week and pick it up, thus leaving Mrs. 508 garbage bagless. I find this to be a novel concept. One apparently Mrs. 508 just didn't completely embrace.
I called Mrs. 508 a few times. And, I e-mailed her, telling her she was in violation of her lease and would she kindly remove her trash. All she had to do was pick up the trash bags and move them off the property. How hard is that? However, Mrs. 508 picked this week to not answer her phones or her e-mail.
Finally, I resorted to good old fashioned threats. My tenant shenanigan threshold has plummeted significantly in the past year. With the exception of Mr. Richard's signature required rent game (I swear that man is a flake), I don't tolerate much any more. This past week, I sent Mrs. 508 a letter, explaining there would be an inspection of the property later this month.
I knew this letter would promote action. I have a good relationship with Mrs. 508 and this would get her to call. She did call. But, she hasn't gotten the letter just yet. She finally got my e-mails. Yes, she knows about the garbage bags. Some of it is just donation fodder that needs to be given to the charity of her choice. Some of it needs to be walked to the curb (why is it still there?). Mrs. 508 assures me this will be done this weekend. She also assured me the non-working cars in her yard (not driveway) will also be removed. She further assured me this would not be an ongoing thing.
I explained to Mrs. 508 that I do not have ghetto homes. I do not rent to ghetto folks and I don't want anyone mistaking them for a ghetto family. Now Mrs. 508, act the part so you have a place to live.
I have not cancelled her inspection just yet. If she can send me photos of her new and improved yard with all the trash bags gone, I probably will. I don't wish to make enemies with a tenant--especially one who is paying. But, the first step is for her to take out the trash.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)