Glo$$ing Over the Details

Dear Mr. Partner,

Wow! What a week. Poor Ms. Angie. Her furnace went out twice. What terrible timing with the cold weather they are having over in Birmingham!

It turns out the root of her lack of heat was a small electrical fire burning inside the wall. What a relief it was caught in time! However, it appears we now need a new electrical box. And, the fire melted the furnace. So, it seems we need a new one of those too.

Fortunately it was caught in time and the damage was minimal. There was no smoke damage. No loss of life. The home is habitable and the repairs are underway. Between you and I, let me tell you: it could have been much worse.

Your Frazzled Property Manager

Where There's Smoke

Ms. Angie was hysterical. And I told her so.

My assertion actually quieted her long enough so that I could get one critical sentence in edgewise. "You need to immediately call the fire department if this happens again."

And ladies and gentlemen, that is how my Wednesday started.

In the event you are unaware, landlords do not get calls about toilets overflowing at 2 a.m. They get calls on holiday weekends with some sort of impossible problem that can't be resolved no matter who asks. Our Saviour could come to Earth and try to find a plumber at 5:01 p.m. the Friday of Labor Day weekend and would get an answering service. That's how life works.

It is no different if you have a backed up septic system, no air conditioning, no heat or the hot water heater blows. This is why we have gracious friends with couches.

But, back to Ms. Angie. The trouble started Christmas weekend, with an easy furnace fix on Monday morning. However, the "easy fix" was really masking a much bigger symptom. And, if her heat hadn't gone out a second time this week, we might not have discovered the root of the problem until much, much too late. Apparently there was a smoldering wire in the wall, causing the furnace to short.

Ms. Angie awoke on Wednesday to no heat. Apparently there had also been a "funny smell" for days as well. When she called me at some horrid hour that morning, all she did was mention the heater. The smell didn't really phase her, I'm guessing, because it was colder than the polar North on her side of Birmingham.

With my limited information, I told her to do the sensible thing: call the HVAC guy out there again and have him take a look. It would be a lot quicker than me making the drive to take a look--which I didn't tell her.

When the HVAC guy walked in, he immediately recognized the smell of ozone wafting through the home. I was on the phone with Ms. Angie a second time when this occurred. The HVAC dude had just passed me back to her, right after I directed HVAC dude (who had no reason to help--other than he was just being nice) to break into the wall. He muttered something about "a possible fire" to his counterpart and Ms. Angie rightfully lost it.

It turns out there was a smoldering wire in the wall. And, how it didn't ignite the entire home, I will never know. According to everyone there, it should have.

In the mean-time, Ms. Angie and I had a quick chat. That electrical smell is more important than heating her home. That smell requires a quick call to 911. Only after she has made sure everyone is out of the home, she can then call me. And, after all is said and done, then she can be hysterical.

I know I will be.

Loyalties

I don't give a fig about college football. But please! Don't tell Diamond Jim--who follows the Oregon Ducks. And more to the point, please don't tell the gang down South who are rabid University of Alabama fans (or maybe it is Alabama University? You know, I am not quite sure.).

I can pretty accurately predict a typical autumn weekend somewhere in Alabama. Saturday the masses are shouting, "Roll Tide!" Sunday they are saying, "Praise Jesus!" And all is good.

Given that I like keeping my business relationships sane, I have become an Alabama football fan. (You are welcome to read about this terribly awkward moment here).

Last year, when the big college bowl game was between Alabama and Texas, it was a no-brainer who I was to cheer for. This year, when the same bowl game is between Oregon and Auburn University, I wasn't quite sure. And, if truth be told, the root of the Hatfield and McCoys disagreement had everything to do with Alabama and Auburn Universities. Hence, a rivalry was born.

Diamond Jim has been predicting this particular college bowl match-up for months. And next week he gets his wish. But, I wasn't sure what to do. I did know being neutral wasn't really an option. After all, I don't wish to create a major faux pas next time I talked with Attorney Jon or Jack.

So, I asked.

In my e-mail to Jack I said: "I have a quick etiquette question: as an Alabama fan who am I to cheer for in the BCS game? Are we to momentarily set aside our dislike of Auburn? Or, do we want the Ducks to crush them? Where should my loyalty lie?"

Completely putting my mind at ease, Jack replied: "You are now a BIG DUCK FAN!!! Roll Tide."

Tidings of Comfort and Warmth

I don't care who you are or how long you might have rented from me. I happen to know if I get a call at 7 p.m. on a Sunday night from a tenant, it will be not good news. This past Sunday was no exception.

Ms. Angie called me Sunday night, yes at 7 p.m. After carefully asking me how my Christmas was and sweetly inquiring about my health, the health of my family and the weather, she got down to business. It was 27 degrees in Birmingham, she had no heat and was darn unhappy about it.

I hate calls like this. Mainly because I have to say the very logical thing: there is not much I can do on the Sunday of Christmas weekend. So, she was stuck. And cold.

I did give her a quick pep talk (with a smattering of "bless your heart... I am so sorry to hear this" thrown in) that absolutely did nothing to make matters better. I also told her to call my HVAC guy in the morning and quickly gave her a couple of phone numbers. My last directive was if my guy didn't work out, find someone immediately in the morning and have them show up on her doorstep. And, by the way, whomever goes out must call me for authorization. I wouldn't be excited to find out the furnace had been replaced and I was on the hook.

I don't blame Ms. Angie for calling again Monday morning before 6 a.m. After all, it is difficult to think with frozen your brain cells. When she asked if we were the same time as her, I just replied with a dull "no" and left it at that.

What Ms. Angie wanted was the name and numbers of the repair guy that I had already given her the night before at a much more reasonable hour. I suspect this was my punishment for not waving my magic landlord wand and making her home toasty warm. My bad.

One of the really great nice parts about what I do is that I have set up decent relationships with my vendors. When I say, "Please bill me." They do. I have credibility with them.

My HVAC guy was also kind enough to patiently explain how the flux capacitor was broken and needed more dilithium crystals. And, as it turns out, he just happens to have a few extra dilithium crystals in his truck.

So now Ms. Angie has heat. And it didn't cost too much money or good will.

Whew!

The property taxes are paid. This was no small feat.

We had the money for the homes we have with Mr. Partner. But, we weren't exactly sure on we could swing it for the homes Marty Sunshine and I own.  We had a back up plan of borrowing money a small amount from family if we couldn't come up with the total ourselves. But, it wasn't necessary.

I can sleep tonight.

It Took Me 51 Weeks To Write This

As far as Marty Sunshine is concerned, my level of organization is akin to that of an over-tired hyper ADD toddler.

I don't personally think that is fair. I am organized in my own way. First, I have a super-good memory for mostly important things Second, I am too frugal to bother with pretty office organization trinkets. Third, how is this not organized?

This is a year's worth of filing. Which conveniently is now full--and it took 12 months to get there. Coincidence? I think not. This top shelf is actually all of the documents I have that need to be put into color coded file folders (yes, really, they are color coded) and then shoved into here:

Which will then start the arduous process of getting things ready for taxes. Like every year, "getting ready for taxes" will afford me breakfasts with Diamond Jim and will strain my 25 year plus friendship with Bliz (I love you dearly my friend). Which in turn will afford her a pound of "forgive me for being an idiot" toffee in the end. (And let me just say now, Bliz--I really do adore you and hopefully you are aware I am never fully myself from Jan. 1 to April 15--as I have to contend with Mr. Partner too).

Today, with a heavy heart and a sprained wrist, I am going to tackle 12 months' worth of paper--minus what Bliz will be sending me. She also has 12 months worth of my paper.

And, just because he says he loves me, Marty is offering to help me.

And as a quick disclaimer: if you are a real estate client, your file is not on these shelves. They are professionally tucked away in my filing cabinet or in my briefcase.

And, The Mother of the Year Award Goes To...

I got a call from Brenda on Monday morning. She had my Arizona cell number. The reason for her call was she heard I was the "lady who had lots of houses for rent." If I hadn't been in mental vacation mode I might have asked her where she got my number, but alas, I was ready to bake cookies and deck the halls.

Brenda, it seems, needs a place by mid-February. And, did I happen to have one available? She said she is having the darnest time finding a landlord who has a home available.

I pointed out that most landlords would prefer not to have a vacant home available two months from the time someone calls. Keeping a home vacant two months isn't good business. She didn't fully grasp this, and I didn't direct her to this blog either.

What I did do is chat with her for a bit. After all, I have a few homes that could be vacant with a bit of notice. Two in particular: Ms. Kathy's and Ms. Shirley's. So, depending upon where Brenda wanted to live, I might be easily able to accommodate her.

It turns out Brenda's conundrum really isn't location as much as it is basic economics. It seems dear, naive Brenda only has a modest sum to spend. Though I might be able to work with her budget, I needed a few things settled first.

"Who all would be living with you?" I asked.

"Just my son and I," she innocently replied.

I can work with this. Even if her budget was a bit more modest than I care for. However, Brenda it seems has a bit of a sense of humor. I asked, "Any pets?"

Brenda laughed. "Just my daughter and her three kids. But they will all share a room. I made that clear to them."

Perhaps the rest of you aren't in mental vacation mode and figured this out faster than I did. But, I did finally decipher what she meant before we parted ways. And, I wasn't as amused as she was by her little joke.

Nope, turns out I don't have anything available.

Jack's Way

Jack and I rent to Harold and Haroldine. Because of life's circumstances, Harold and Haroldine continue to be late. In general, my basic idea is to grouch at tenants who don't pay on time until they play my way or move. That works well when I am 1,700 miles from the house. However, in the case of Jack and I, he has something I don't have: proximity to the home we own.

And, before we go any further, I must tell you: I really respect and admire Jack as a man, business partner and landlord. I like the fact he wants to work things through with people. I like like the fact he has reminded me through thought, word and deed the reason landlords exist: to help people. I have gravitated away from this ideal and Jack has been kind enough to steer me back on track.

So, Friday when I found out Haroldine hadn't sent the rent, I called her. I knew where Jack stood--work something out if need be. And, that is much easier when Haroldine acts the part. In this case, she did what puts her in a higher echelon from Ms. Kathy or Ms. Shirley--she answered her phone and was accountable.

As we discussed, I asked her what needed to happen? Obviously rent wasn't getting in on time and it was doing neither of us any good. What can be done to fix this?

It turns out, the real issue is the due date. She wondered if it could be changed to better accommodate their paychecks. An easy fix that makes my life so much simpler. One that doesn't require drama, instead is based on communication and cooperation--both of which Haroldine is willing to offer.

We left our conversation open ended. I gave Haroldine some homework: find me a date that works. Provide it to me next week. I can work with a new due date. I can't work with uncertainty.

The Cold Hearted Truth

Months ago, Jack came to me with his dilemma: he had a tenant who was a month late on his rent. Jack had given him ample time to make good. In fact, as Jack had explained, they had talked the previous Thursday, and the tenant said he would let him know what was going in two days--the previous Saturday. And, not to worry.

It was now Wednesday when Jack and I were chatting. Jack had tried to call the tenant but wasn't getting any response. And, more to the point of our conversation, Jack was curious what I thought.

What I felt was a mixture of pity and astonishment of how naive Jack happened to be. What I thought was the tenant had communicated loud and clear. I told the later to Jack and left the former to myself.

During the whole Harold/Haroldine issue last month, I called Jack to keep him apprised. His attitude was to talk with them as reasonable people. He wanted to work something out with them and see if we could come to some sort of peaceful existence--even if that meant they left. Jack was willing to refund the security deposit in exchange for keys.

As we talked, I felt ashamed for being so hard-core. Here was Jack, willing to work something through so that we would have a win-win situation. Me? I was ready to serve their butts and kick them out on the street. My shame was washed away ten minutes later when I talked to Ms. Shirley who snapped at me for not sympathizing with her level of poverty.

Truth be told, there are people I would (and have) willingly worked with when money was tight. Ms. Robin hasn't paid me on time in months. Mrs. Sherwood could pay the rent late and I wouldn't blink. But there are others--the ones who have jaded me--who are directly responsible for the calluses on my heartstrings. These are the Mr. Smiths and the Ms. Kathys of the world. Because of them, any excuse is lame. Because of them, I no longer believe.

Return to Sender?

Dear Home Owner's Association for my Waterford Home:

Thank you so much for sending me a bill for the first time since I have owned this home. I appreciate you letting me know the fees for the HOA are due in two weeks if I do not want to be penalized. Though I would have preferred this knowledge earlier, the fact that I got a bill in the first place is a significant step forward.

I would be happy to pay this bill--even if you have given me only two weeks to come up with the money. However, my problem is a simple one: nowhere on your bill, or on the return envelope for that matter, have you given me an address to send the payment to.

As a reasonable person, I have made obvious inquiries to resolve my issue, though these actions now are being handled in between spurts of uncontrollable swearing and shots of amaretto. The woman I spoke with this past summer does not seem to be involved in your board any more. Her number is disconnected. Her e-mail no longer works. Thus, it appears I will be spending a good portion of the next two weeks (as to ensure my payment won't be late) finding a highly intelligent carrier pigeon who will be able to precisely send my check to the correct entity.

In conclusion: bless your collective hearts.

Always,

 Your Frustrated Landlord

December 17

Just want to send a quick shout-out to the love of my life, Marty Sunshine. He is the father of my children, the mower of my lawn and the one who keeps me grounded while we reach together for stars.

Happy birthday and I hope you have many more.

Approved

After I wrote my post for Tuesday (it was written Monday afternoon), I got a call from Kendra. She is the grandmother who had recently gotten custody of her five grandchildren. This time she was surprisingly calm and articulate. She called to say Kirby had just shown her the home in Leeds. And, by the way, thank you, for taking enough of a chance on her to actually be willing to think about renting to a family with five kids. Before me, she hadn't managed to find a landlord who would even talk to her.

She understood she wasn't approved, but if she were approved, she would make sure her five grandchildren would not be trashing my lovely home. Because, as far as she was concerned, she was going to live there forever--if indeed I approved her. Which she understood I hadn't. But hopefully her grandchildren would have a home for Christmas.

And, if that weren't enough to make me change my mind, I got an e-mail from Kirby later Monday night. Kirby tells me Kendra and Mr. Kendra's daughter is in jail. She and Mr. Kendra packed up and moved to Alabama last week to gain custody of these children so they wouldn't end up in foster care.

Mrs. Kendra is a cancer survivor on disability. She is about to get child support for all five kids (ages ranging from youn'un to medium-sized). Mr. Kendra also has a job. So, income is no problem.

Kirby told me his first impression was that all five kids were all well behaved and Kendra has them in line. Kendra also told him she has no intention of moving again. Ever. As far as Kirby was concerned, he felt these were the best renters that had come along for my Leeds home.

It appears Santa will be able to find these five kids this year after all.

She Called Back

I got a frantic call on Monday from the woman with five grandkids who didn't leave her number on Sunday. Interestingly, she had heard of me--but not through the ads in the paper or Craig's List. Someone (a former tenant is my guess) referred her to me. I find this strange, as the former tenants I have on that side of Birmingham aren't people who I would be speaking that highly of. So, my first assumption is she doesn't keep good company.

This woman immediately started in on her desperate plight: she just got emergency custody of her five grandchildren. She doesn't have all the money necessary to move. But, will I help her? All she wants is for her grandchildren to have a place to call home for Christmas.

Before she could incriminate herself further, I stopped her and told her to call Kirby.

Oh yes! This is why I have Kirby! I don't have to be the cold-hearted one who will say, "No! I will not allow you to move into my home a week before Christmas when you have no money to do so--and perhaps with a ton more baggage I don't need drug into my life."

(And I know if I listned to her story I would probably cave. I would be instantly sorry, but you, Dear Readers, would benefit greatly from some excellent blog fodder later. But I digress...).

Instead, Kirby can listen politely to her story, relay it to me with a positive spin on her situation. I can then make an educated decision, whereby Kirby can tell her what a cold-hearted heathen I really am. Or, perhaps there is some upside to this and he can tell her I approved her.

Her Loss

Yesterday, I had a voice mail from a caller with a restricted phone number waiting on my Birmingham cell. The message went something like this:

"Hello, I am interested in the house you have for rent in the paper. I just got custody of my five grandchildren and need a place to move into desperately. I want to give them a good Christmas. I can move in right away. Please call me back."

Too bad she didn't leave a number. I am desperate enough to overlook the fact she didn't give a name and the fact she has five children living with her.

Drat

I know what I have to do. But I don't wanna.

Sigh... but I will.

Mrs. Spring's lease ended on November 14. She left the place clean--move in ready clean. I wish I could say that about more tenants. She also left me the dishwasher.

Even though she moved out in September, she dutifully paid her lease through the end. Even if she did it because (as Carolsue claims) she is afraid of me. She still did it. She fulfilled her end of the bargain.

So it's my turn.

I have to give Mrs. Spring her security deposit back. Of course, she hasn't given me a forwarding address. So, I haven't been in a major hurry to mail the check. But, the law says certain things. And, even if the law didn't. I know right from wrong. I am not a thief.

So, it is time to hunt down Mrs. Spring and have one more conversation with her. Hopefully it will be brief. And more importantly, drama free.

At this point, all I want for Christmas is drama free.

Oh No He Didn't

I am thinking about taking back all the nice things I ever said about Kirby.

Wednesday night--while I was busy fretting about how the hell I was going to pay the property taxes due in 23 days, Kirby sent me an e-mail. In it he said:

Been very busy around here lately and the holidays just slow things down more. Leeds is either going to be tough one to rent or it is just because it is close to the holidays and no one is going to want to move at this time of year. I thought I had a couple who were going to bring the application back and move quickly if they were approved but I have not heard back from them since I showed it to them last week. They were iffy at best and they must have realized that. Not getting many calls at all from the newspaper either.

Well now! I know Leeds is tough to rent. In fact, if you have read my blog a couple of times you probably know it isn't a walk in the park either.

But before Kirby's e-mail, I had hope. Hope this joint would have a family sooner than later. Hope that asking for a higher deposit from the four unmarried people with no rental history was the right thing--and them getting upset and leaving because they didn't want to play by those rules would then lead me to a better tenant.

You know... the general kind of hope. Now, not so much.

I am a worrier and a fretter by nature. I have been so proud of myself this year for keeping it together up until these past two months. I have been proud I created a business strategy and we were able to follow it--and even make it work. I even put my fears aside and let Fate run its course.

I am going on three months with no tenant in Leeds. Granted, it is not our most expensive mortgage. But I could really use it rented right now.

And more than that, I could really use an encouraging word or two from Kirby.

Long Live the Streak

One of the drawbacks of writing my blogs days in advance is that things change.

Like Ms. Shirley.

Marty Sunshine opted to surprise me and made a pilgrimage to the post office on Tuesday--just for me. And lo and behold! There was Ms. Shirley's check.

Of course, this sparked a debate between us about calling off Red the process server. According to Marty, why pay to serve her when we have her money? My opinion was why on Earth did he pick up the check when I want to serve Ms. Shirley? After all, she doesn't seem to grasp her obligations here and needs a gentle reminder.

Besides, it would derive me great pleasure.

Which turned the conversation to Marty Sunshine's contention that I have disturbing aspects to my personality that he just doesn't find attractive--including my mean streak. By the way, according to my father, the mean streak is an Aries thing. And if truth be told, I don't mind my mean streak.

When push came to shove, we went with calling off Red--who hadn't gotten around to serving her just yet anyway. He offered to keep the Termination Letter to be revisited later or just shred it.

I begrudgingly agreed to him shredding it. But, I don't think Ms. Shirley and I are done. Because my mean streak lives on.

I Think There Was an X and a Q in the Word

Mr. Partner is convalescing nicely--or about as nice as can be expected--after spending a week in the ICU. We found out last week about his plight through the grapevine. Mr. Partner told us personally on Monday through an e-mail. He had some sort of issue that required surgery and had a big fancy name that impressed me to no end that he could spell it.

The upshot is Mr. Partner is alive and well. I am pleased to hear that. I am quite fond of Mr. Partner.

Last week when we were only getting snippets from hither and yon, I started thinking about what happens if Mr. Partner has an untimely demise. This of course is very different than when I pleasantly daydream about how much work Mr. Partner and Marty Sunshine will have on their plates if I had an untimely demise...

This is different. This is an asset question.

Mr. Partner has a quarter share in our LLC (Mrs. Partner has a quarter share too--just like Marty Sunshine and myself). So, the partnership would then be divided into thirds if I read my articles of formation correctly. This changes things for tax purposes. And changes the dynamics of the partnership too.

All the same, it gets complicated and tricky. I would then defer to CPA Diamond Jim who would have to figure a few things out.  And I am sure there would be long, hard to spell words in that transition too. So, it is definately for the best that we keep Mr. Partner around for a while.

Tough Love

Monday Marty Sunshine came home from the post office with a check in his hand. However, it was not from Ms. Shirley.

Could we all stop for a moment and gasp in mock-horror that Ms. Shirley didn't send her rent check. Yes, yes, yes... I am just astounded as you are.

Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled blog.

In all fairness to Ms. Shirley, it is possible she sent the rent and I hadn't receieved it on Monday. But, I wasn't taking any chances. I called Red, one of the process servers I use. He offered to deliver my love letter on Tuesday--but knowing that Alabama Time is not in sync with the Roman Calendar, "Tuesday" might mean any particular moment between Tuesday and Independence Day 2067.

The truth is, if Ms. Shirley sent the rent, I won't know until at least Thursday. That is the next day anyone is heading near the post office. So, if Red serves her the money might already be in Arizona. That's fine with me. Serving her might mean she won't be as embarrassed next time to pick up the phone when things go South.

Even if Red and my rent check do cross paths, that's ok. I am under the impression Ms. Shirley seems to think she deserves some sort of special entitlement from me. And, that is getting a bit old. A letter telling her she can pay or leave might give her a better understanding about my true feelings.

Puppy Power

Mrs. Green e-mailed me on Friday asking if they could get a puppy. And, more to the point, what would it take to get a fence put up?

At this moment, it would take a winning lottery ticket to get a fence put up. I have property taxes due at the end of the year and I have been scrambling since August to make that happen too. Thanks to Ms. Shirley and a few others, this task is a bit more daunting than I expected. And, I am only loosing a few hours of sleep every hour over it. But, I digress...

What Mrs. Green's e-mail really did was tug at all the self-doubts I have. I can't afford a fence. I can't afford to re-roof this home or paint it. The two things I really would like to do. Mrs. Green doesn't complain, but I know she would prefer an air conditioner that doesn't go out at the worst possible moment. Who wouldn't? And perhaps there is a landlord out there who could provide this for her. But at the moment, it isn't me.

I am guessing Mrs. Green has had the dog for a while, and finally got around to telling me about it. What I wrote to Mrs. Green--after determining that the "puppy in question" wasn't a pit bull (which brings up another burning question: what is it with people in Alabama and pit bulls? Surely there are other breeds of dogs out there?)--was that I would waive the pet deposit if she would take care of an enclosure for the dog. I figured that would bring some clarity to the situation, as I am guessing a pet deposit was the furthest thing from her mind. 

So far Mrs. Green doesn't seem phased by me asking her to take care of a puppy pen. I don't know what this enclosure will look like. Will she use the basement for the puppy? The basement with the newer carpet? Will she use the garage for the dog? Or, will she do the responsible pet owner thing and figure out a way for the dog to go outside when necessary?

And, I have to tell you, a pet deposit is used as landlords as a deterrent to weed out possible trouble tenants. There is no reasonable amount of money that will fix pet damage. Puppies chew. Puppies scratch? Puppies do what comes naturally. A $300 pet deposit won't fix this.

Mrs. Sherwood will Never Write a Cookbook

Mrs. Sherwood called me on Tuesday in the middle of a very serious meeting with Busy Mommy. Ok... Actually, we were at the dollar store looking for stocking stuffers. The purpose of Mrs. Sherwood's call was to get my fax number so she could send me the receipt for the stove I bought. Sadly, as she struggled with the fax machine, she realized carrier pigeon might have been faster, as the machine in question hadn't been used since Reagan was in office.

When I asked how the new stove was working out, she told me the major flaw she was finding was that her husband expected it to be used more than once. And, as far as she was concerned, she had tested the oven with Thanksgiving dinner. It worked. There was no need to jinx it.

While waiting for her fax to transmit, we swapped microwave dinner tips (tortillas, with melted cheese and canned chicken was my idea, instant grits with butter was hers) as I walked the aisles, searching for army men for Buckaroo and lip gloss for Polly. It was right around the peppermint sticks when Mrs. Sherwood dropped this one on me: the 47 year old carpet must go.
Her husband--who happens to be doing a bit more of the cooking--keeps spilling on the kitchen carpet. It is driving her crazy. It isn't like it can be just mopped up, she explained.

In turn, I explained that I just spent my last dollar on her stove and the money wasn't exactly in the budget right now for flooring. But down the road I would be happy to take care of this.

"Oh no! I plan on living her for a while. I wasn't asking you to replace it. I was going to do it," she said.

Well now! I can live with that. Because, I was going to replace the 47 year old carpet when they left anyway. So, if she wants to help me out. I am totally ok with that. Mrs. Sherwood promised me she would pick something neutral. And more importantly, something that her husband can mop up when he makes his mess.

The Action Plan

In the event you haven't read this blog in the past few days, Ms. Shirley really irked me. Mainly because I really resent people with a sense of entitlement. And, I hate cowards. Ms. Shirley is a coward.

So, when Kirby finally got back with me about Leeds on Monday (I asked for an update on the unrented home), I threw Ms. Shirley's home into the mix. You see, she is month-to-month. I sent Kirby a few photos and told him to please let me know if he might possibly have a tenant who might be interested. \

I am happy to give Shirley a 30 day notice.

A Carolsueism

I called Carolsue on Monday, still annoyed by Ms. Shirley's accusation that I didn't know what it was like to be poor. Carolsue had the best retort. I am sorry my wayback machine doesn't work. And, if it did work, I would need to practice the smooth Southern drawl to make the maximum impact. She said:

"You know, I heard my maid and my butler talking about that the other day. That 'poor thing' you mentioned sounds just awful."

Ass Whooping

Marty Sunshine felt sorry for Ms. Shirley on Monday, as he listened to me as I laid into her in epic proportions. That is, until he heard me parrot what she had just said: she was too embarrassed to call me.

Um yea... on the top 21 things never to say to me, that is somewhere on the list. I am much more agreeable when the person in question sucks it up and dials the phone. Of course, she also said her phone is restricted and she can't make long distance calls (on her cell) and her Internet doesn't work.

I pointed out that her neighbors have Internet and phones. Her daughter has a cell phone. The library has computers. There is the US postal service. Essentially, I am not that hard to get in touch with.

I also told her that sometimes we all have to make difficult phone calls--like the one I was going to have to make to Mr. Partner, explaining that a tenant that I have granted favors for, has essentially taken advantage of my good nature.

Ms. Shirley then quickly changed the subject by starting in on how she has bills, she has been sick and I just don't know what it is like to be "poor."

I completely bypassed that particular comment, as Ms. Shirley doesn't need to know my upbringing. How I had one pair of pants to my name throughout Junior High. And how Junior High girls are vicious. She doesn't need to know about how I went to three high schools because my father had been out of work for two years in the early 1980s. She doesn't need to hear about how we ended up living in a 900 square foot 1890's Vermont home, with inadequate heat, right next door to the projects.

Nor does Ms. Shirley need to know about how the summer I was pregnant with Polly I drove around in a 1989 Subaru station wagon. The engine blew black exhaust, the bumper had a gigantic hole in it and the worst part was the car had no air conditioning whatsoever. All because we were determined to live within our means.

Nope. I have no idea what it is like to be Ms. Shirley poor.

Instead I seethed, "Do you know what it is like to be homeless? Because if I don't have your rent payment, I don't pay the mortgage and neither of us have a house."

"Oh, I don't want that." Ms. Shirley stupidly replied.

Note to Ms. Shirley: you are almost homeless.

My Nose Bleeds for You

Haroldine called me Sunday night. You see, she apparently is under the assumption I am a patient landlord. She is further under the mistaken impression I am happy for her to channel Lucy VanPelt while I muster up the energy to channel Charlie Brown.

Nope, I really don't believe she is going to hold the football.

You see, she knew the rent was going to be late and told me so up front. Then, when the due date passed, I barked at her. Haroline in turn gave me a new drop dead date--which also came and passed.

I would like to go on record here: it has been more than a year since I have stressed so badly about rent money that I have stayed up all night, pacing the floor. There are times I stay up for an extra hour or two... but not all night. However, Thanksgiving night, I was awake, stressing about Haroldine's rent check. It didn't come Friday or Saturday and I have been having sleepless fits ever since.

Saturday night, I finally came up with an acceptable game plan: call Jack on Monday (today). Let him deal with his tenants. Then I went to sleep for an hour.

Haroldine must have psychically caught wind of my action plan because she called Sunday night. Apparently rent and late fees are definitely on their way. In fact, she was planning on overnighting it--if that was ok with me. Haroldine went on to tell me how cash strapped life has been for her. She had been so stressed she had started having bloody noses and heart palpitations.

Really? I asked. Is her mortgage payment due December1? Because mine is. And, while she is at it, don't whine and expect to play the sympathy card with me because it isn't working. I am sleep deprived.

A Disaster in the Making

Several months ago, I was approached by this rather large extended family on helping them find a place to rent. As they were my clients, my job was to present them in the best light possible and help them find a place to live.

The players in question: Babs and Seth--mom and dad--in their early 50s, recently foreclosed upon, self employed in the fledgling construction industry. Joining Babs and Seth were unemployed Daughter 1 who was going through a divorce and had three children of her own. Very Pregnant Daughter 2, her husband (who both worked at a pizza joint) and their toddler and Son 1 who (evidently) had some sort of history of conflicting with law enforcement, was going to the local junior college and was in-between jobs. If you do the math, you should have counted 10 people with an 11th on the way.

A landlord's dream come true.

The only home big enough for this extended family, in their price range, was found. The landlord bought it sight unseen at an auction a month earlier. The 2 acre property included a 2 bedroom apartment, a guest home and a barn. Someone was already renting the apartment. The landlord was planning on keeping the guest home to use as an "office" and he was planning on renting out the barn to a third party. The house was built in one of Mesa's orange groves in the 1980s and hadn't been updated since. Though it was spacious enough, a coat of paint alone would have done wonders.

I explained to Babs and Seth early on, they have no control over who rents the other building--so if the tenant uses the barn to store explosives or makes it into a grow house, that isn't anything they will have control over. If the owner decides to keep a mistress in his office/guest home or if he decides to throw wild parties back there on a Tuesday night, there isn't much Babs and Seth can do about it. If the tenants in the apartment next door aren't their cup of tea, they are stuck. Essentially, this is communal living with Babs, Seth and the gang getting a 7,000 square foot piece of the pie.

If it had been me, the cost of air conditioning a 7,000 square foot home through an Arizona summer would have been enough for me to run in the opposite direction. But, I also explained to them up front about the living conditions, the risks in renting, given they had all this space but had to share the estate with their landlord who may or may not have a style of living they were comfortable with. Babs and Seth could only see big home and extended family all cozying up under one roof.

As far as Babs and Seth went, I could see about 16 zillion red flags renting to them. But, it was my job--as their agent--to present this family in the best light. So, I did what I am supposed to. I explained to them how to best fill out the application to sound the most appealing--without lying mind you. I like my license. I suggested they write a letter to the landlord, explaining how the living situation would be going. I wanted the landlord to get an idea of who they were on a personal level.

Perhaps Seth and Babs' attempt to dazzle the landlord with brilliance worked, or perhaps the landlord was desperate (he should have been), either way, Babs, Seth and the whole brood were approved. Part of me felt bad for the landlord. But, the landlord wasn't going to get a 650 credit score living in his quirky seriously outdated mega mansion.

I got word in October that Babs and Seth stopped paying the rent. Because I live nearby (on the other side of the tracks), the landlord's agent asked me to drive by a couple of times looking to see if there were any signs of life going on in the main home. Nope. By mid-October, Babs and Seth skipped. The home is now up for rent again. With the landlord looking for someone else who might have an interest in sharing an estate with several other strangers.

Thanksgiving

We start our family prayer every night by saying what one thing we are grateful for. Buckaroo is often grateful for playing his DS. Polly is generally grateful she got to play with friends. It is the simple things that make them happy. I am grateful for that.

I am also grateful for bigger things. The last two years we have been as much a victim of the economy as everyone else. We weren't prepared for things to go downhill. And, even if we were, we certainly weren't as prepared as we would have needed to be.

But we have survived. And--I am knocking on wood here--if the worst is over, or if this is as bad as it gets, I think my accidental business will stay in tact. It is going to change, evolve. I have some changes on the horizon that will be happening one way or another. Change isn't always bad. Except when "change" involves a trashed home.

My list of gratitude this Thanksgiving is longer and more personal than I wish to get into in this simple blog. But I can tell you this. I am grateful to have had this adventure. This journey may not last forever, but in the end I hope to look back and know I did my best and acted in a way that my children can benefit from. I am grateful I have my blog. And, I am also very grateful I have a few readers who follow along on my adventures.

Thank you all.

You've Been Warned

With the exception of a few choice tenants, rent is due on the 15th. So far this month all but two have paid on time. You know things aren't looking all that cheery when one of those two is Ms. Kathy--and she is missing a portion of her total rent owed. Even Kirby hasn't sent me the rent checks of the three properties he manages--but he told me he would be sending them out this week.

So on Tuesday I started making phone calls and e-mails. Mrs. Sherwood had told me on Monday that she had mailed the rent last week. Ms. Angie also sent the rent last week. I have no reason not to believe her. I did call Haroldine and I wasn't too nice, suggesting that she had taxed my good nature to the breaking point. I wasn't very nice in my note to Ms. Shirley either--but I left the message rather vague.

I bypassed everyone else, figuring rent was in various states of delivery. Besides, after making Haroldine cry, I didn't have the energy to spend another hour on the phone hunting down every single renter who probably sent their rent last week. I will save that task for Friday. Maybe by then the mail will have caught up with me, or at least I will be in a better mood.

Just a Burner or Two

Mrs. Sherwood went to full extremes to make sure last weekend was just ducky for me. That's because she waited until 5 p.m. Monday to call me to tell me:



1. Her 47+ year old stove caught fire on Sunday.

2. She looked on Craig's List and couldn't find anything decent and you-would-think-someone-selling-a-stove-on-Craig's-List-would-take-the-time-to-clean-it, wouldn't you?

3. She spent Monday shopping around and found a new one for a reasonable price.

I luv Mrs. Sherwood. Have I ever mentioned that?

And, if we could just take a moment here: some landlords are afraid of the cliche'd "the toilet overflowed at 2 a.m." phone call. I have to tell you, I would prefer it to any form of phone call involving flames. This wasn't my first (or my second) fire call.

Even as I processed Mrs. Sherwood's news, I realized I was horror-stuck with a terrible dilemma. Once we established nobody or other item in the home was injured, I pointed out to her, "You told me if you ever asked for a stove, I was to remind you that you didn't want one and then you instructed me to refuse to buy one. And, you also told me that if I ever did buy you you a stove, you would move out. "

Thankfully, Mrs. Sherwood did agree she had made such assertions before. But, that was before the 47+ year old stove caught fire. And, as much as she hated to cook, she really did need at a burner or two in order to get by.

I also addressed the issue of delivery. You see, I don't feel like being groped by a TSA agent, two days before Thanksgiving just because the delivery charges will exceed the cost of the federal debt. (and by the way, here's a tip for anyone who has had skin cancer, courtesy of my dermatologist last week: it is NOT safe for skin cancer patients to through the airport scanners.). Mrs. Sherwood didn't blink twice. She assured me she would find a truck and get her stove delivered. But, if I did want to come on over to see the new stove, she would be happy to cook me a meal.

She then told me she has no plans on moving. Especially now that she has a new burner or two.

The Good, The Better, The Bad and The Ugly

The Good: Carolsue was gracious to spend part of her Sunday hanging out at the Leeds home in hopes that someone--anyone--might come by and nudge their significant other in the ribs and say, "Elmer! Don't you think this place is perfect for us?" Or, any other such wonderfulness.

No luck.

The Better: Carolsue did tell me that the neighbors directly to the South no longer have a yard filled with junk. In fact, the house is vacant and there is a lockbox on the door. Don't you just love it when neighbors move and take their rusted sheet metal with them? I know I do.

The Bad: The neighbor directly to the North is still there. I believe he got another shipment in of oiled crosses last week.

The Ugly: My very cute little cottage in Leeds is still vacant and I have to break the news to Mr. Partner. As far as I am concerned, I have done every earthly thing I can think of to find a renter. It is time for some drastic measures.

No Leads on Leeds

It appears not wanting two unmarried couples who were marginally qualified to begin with renting my Leeds home has afforded me a vacant home a bit longer than expected.

Tomorrow Carolsue is holding an open house. I advertised it in the newspaper and on Craig's list. Yes, this property is in Kirby's care. But Kirby doesn't do open houses. I need this place rented.

I did receive a phone call on Friday from my ad. The woman in question was articulate and polite. She was looking for a place for her older parents. I immediately sent her to Kirby. Why wait until a silly little open house? She can see it now.

So far she hasn't called him.

I also got an e-mail from a woman who wants to move early next year. She said she is having a tough time finding a "decent rental" through Craig's list. It might not be Craig's list that is the problem. It could be:

1. She is looking three months early and landlords don't like to leave a house vacant for three additional months because she might want to live in it.

2. The amount of rent she wants to pay (what the Leeds home is renting for) does not afford her the mega-mansion she is looking for. But, it isn't my place to give her a lesson in basic economics.

What I did do was suggest she call Kirby. He has more homes than just mine available. Hopefully he can help her.

In the mean time, I am guessing this home will probably be vacant a bit longer. It is getting dangerously close to the holidays now. I am not discouraged.

Just yet.

Things Tenants Do to Annoy Me (or Make Sure I Won't be Granting Them Any Favors).

1. Lie. What really gets me about this particular item is the tenants know I am 1,700 miles away. So, if they tell me the ugly truth, not much is really going to happen. At least not right away. But, by telling me a stupid lie, not only are they guaranteeing something will happen. But, it won't be pretty.
Case in point: if you don't have the rent money until next Wednesday. Just say so. Telling me you just stuck the check in the mail last Friday when I will actually be receiving it next week, only bugs me--especially after I repeatedly go to the post office to check. You are then officially branded a liar. I don't trust liars. I don't bend over to keep liars living in my home. In fact, I encourage them to leave.

2. Ignore me. If I am trying to get in touch with tenants, and they don't return phone calls, letters or e-mails, I will go to more extreme measures. This includes (but isn't limited to) hiring people (such as Red the process server) to check out if the tenant has moved. If they haven't he will then slap a legal-looking notice on their door.

I have also been known to call the local police department and ask for a welfare check on an unresponsive tenant. That got a return phone call from the wayward tenant pretty quickly.

3. Not give me a way to contact you. I prefer three methods of contact with tenants. Mail, phone and e-mail.

In fact, I have a new unwritten rule: I don't rent to people who won't give me their e-mail address. If you have a Facebook account (and I now check), you have an e-mail address. I promise not to pepper you with chain letters, urban myths and jokes that have been recycled cyberly for the past 10 years (though the one titled "You know you live in Arizona when..." is pretty entertaining). In fact, I promise not to contact you at all if I don't need to. All I am asking for is a way to have a discussion if something breaks or there is a problem.

4. Don't expect me to solve your problems. Dear tenants who have lots of bad stuff happening to you: It IS your fault. You are responsible for your own mess. You are the foremost expert on your life. Figure it out and get back to me.

Ms. Betty's comment, asking me how she was supposed to pay the electricity and the rent is classic. Or even more outrageous, Mrs. Spring's comment asking how she could possibly pay her security deposit when she had to buy her 4 year old granddaughter a present was beyond bizarre. Sadly these aren't the only ones to burden me with their conundrums.

5. And speaking of burdening, dear tenant, don't. I don't want to hear how all your bills are due on the same day and that's why rent is late. I don't want to know about how you have to pay for school supplies for your children and that is why you can't come up with a portion of your rent--let alone ALL of your rent.

While we are on this topic, let me ask you this. Would you want me calling you right after you sent in your rent check and say, "I have a problem, I spent your rent money on a fabulous vacation and now your home is going into foreclosure, so it looks like you have to move next week."?

Let's live by this simple rule; My problems are mine; yours are yours.

6. Bouncing checks. Keeping a check book is simple elementary school math. Addition and subtraction. I understand sometimes we are all human and checks bounce. But it better not happen more than once.

7. Holding my rent hostage. This has happened once. The tenant in question was upset because I didn't make some minor cosmetic repair to the home they wanted made. So, she didn't pay me. I never agreed to the repair (a patch of drywall wasn't repaired expertly and they wanted the whole thing done again--even though it was behind their sofa and had been like that since before I bought the home). This happened in Arizona. In Arizona it is illegal to withhold rent for any reason. Even for a stupid $50 drywall patch. The tenant finally saw the whole thing my way when I sent her the Arizona Landlord-Tenant Act. 

I am sure there are other things that irritate me to no end as well. But, these are the biggies. It is amazing how far I will give for someone who can manage to avoid the list above.

Well Done

If I could please direct your attention to this post here. Or, if you would rather have the abridged backstory instead, it goes like this:

Alabama Real Estate Guru Jack and I own a rental house together (along with Marty Sunshine, but it gets tedious to write Jack, Marty Sunshine and I own a rental house together, especially when I am pretty much speaking for Marty most of the time. Unless he tells me otherwise. See! This is why you should have clicked on the link above). The month after Harold moved in, his lady friend (Haroldine)'s portion of the rent bounced. I wasn't happy and Haroldine begged me not to tell Mr. Jack.

I did anyway--though she doesn't know it.

Haroldine pays some obscure portion of the rent. Though I have never quite understood it, the amounts range from $137.64 to $486.39 any given month. Harold sends me a money order. Haroldine sends me a check. Or, she used to. Sadly, she bounced another check.

Right after I found out the check bounced, I called her, only to find out all forms of communication between Harold/Haroldine and I were invalid. That irritated me to no end.

Generally in these situations I send a letter or send over Carolsue to make the tenants cry. In this case, because Jack lives in the general area, I sent him over instead. I can do a pretty good bad-ass over the phone. Jack, however can do a better one in person.

Last Monday, Jack hand-delivered the letter I was planning on mailing. Apparently he spoke with Haroldine while he was there. About fifteen nano-seconds after Jack left, she called me. Now, I don't know what was said, but I bet whatever Jack conveyed was as good as anything Carolsue could have thrown out there.

Even with Haroldine's thick drawl, I could tell on my voicemail her voice was quavering. She let me know she was very sorry about the bounced check. All future monies would be in a money order (my mandate) and this wouldn't happen again. (sure, whatever)

And, did she mention she was sorry? Very sorry? By the way, here are all the numbers to get in touch with Harold and Haroldine.

And, one more thing, next time there is a problem, there is no need to involve Mr. Jack. And certainly I didn't need to send him over. I could just call Haroldine myself if that was ok with me.

Jack also sent me an e-mail later in the day. All it said was, "done."

I Was Thisclose to a Ms. Kathy-Free Zone

As I left the post office Friday, cursing Ms. Kathy's name, my wise Polly asked, "But she paid you? Why are you mad?"

Yes. It is true. I was holding an envelope with a return address of Ms. Kathy. It appears she gets to spend Thanksgiving in my home. She paid just enough to keep me from throwing in the towel. It isn't everything, mind you. After all, paying what she actually owes would be such a novel concept.

The fact is, I already had Saturday's blog written. It talked about how happy I was Carolsue was finally going to serve Ms. Kathy. Ms. Kathy would soon be out of my life. I had psyched myself up for a Ms. Kathy-less existence. I was doing my Ms. Kathy-free dance. But no! Ms. Kathy had to go and be all annoying and pay just enough.

Dang her anyway!

I am going to stay mum with Ms. Kathy and see what happens in the short term. Her lease is almost up. I will figure out then what I wish to do about her. But, I don't really wish to talk to her in the mean-time. At least until next month, when we get to play the Ms. Kathy game all over again.

A Bit of Bizarreness

The next home on my list of Kirby's to do list is Ms. Kathy's home. Formerly Mr. Smith's home. Oddly enough, Mr. Smith lives across the street and Ms. Kathy will most likely be moving in next door with her sister.

I have already told Kirby to be on the lookout for another neighbor to move in.

Tapped

Friday I got a cryptic e-mail out of the blue from Mr. Partner. For whatever reason, he wrote us saying if the company needed money, that was too bad. He was tapped out.

I have never asked Mr. Partner to contribute a penny more than Marty or myself. And, we have only done so during dire emergencies--like multiple tenants have upped and trashed our homes. Nor have I given Mr. Partner any indication we were at some sort of critical juncture where we needed an influx of capital.

This was a random e-mail.

More to the point, all I could think about was what must be going on in Mr. Partner's life that he needed to write us. Just because we are business partners, doesn't mean I would feel proper about asking him about something so personal. Besides, if there is one thing this accidental business has taught me is that listening for the message comes from what isn't said more than what is.

All the best to Mr. Partner. I hope whatever dragons he is fighting proves to be a victorious battle.

The Tenants Not Taken

Last week, Kirby informed me he had potential tenants for the house in Leeds. Two unmarried couples (one with a small child), wanted to share the home. The folks in question were in their early 20s and didn't have rental history. However, all of them worked retail jobs and could manage their end of the rent.

"How well will they fit into the neighborhood?" I asked Kirby after searching for a nice way to ask what I really wanted to know.

"Perfectly," Kirby answered and my heart sank.

There were so many things wrong with this scenario. But it boiled down to my stomach lining was seizing and I was really, really unhappy with this.

I don't like to rent to people who aren't used to renting. They don't know how to handle the basics of home management and are cutting their teeth on my asset. Newly mandated household chores, like taking out the garbage without a parent telling one to do so, doesn't always come naturally. People who haven't really done much renting don't always have the basics: lawn mowers, brooms and vacuums.

I really hate to rent to unmarried couples. I have done so before and have had mixed results. But, essentially, you can have the happiest couple in the world, and one of them decides to go to Helsinki for a semester of school. What then? If the one who remains behind can't make their end of the rent, they might leave. Or, they might take it upon themselves to find another roommate. Someone I didn't want in the first place. (As a disclaimer: there are circumstances when I would be ok with this--but they would be along the lines of me having known the person since they were four and trusting them with my child-type circumstances.).

But, more to the point in this case: There would be two (that would be more than one for those of you paying attention), young twenty-something females sharing a home. Marty Sunshine tells me the Chinese symbol for war is two women under one roof.

Then, I was thinking about the circumstances of the lease. Four people responsible for only a couple hundred dollars each still brings issues. Say Tenant number 1 couldn't pay one month. Would the other Tenants pitch in to cover Tenant 1? Or, would they send in what they had with a note saying, "Go after Tenant 1 if you want the rest?"

And, if Tenant 2 helped pay Tenant 1's remaining rent, would Tenant 2 be short on their portion of the electric?

All these thoughts, and plenty more were going through my head as I sorta agreed to this. Except, because they had no rental history, I asked Kirby to increase the deposit amount.

The tenants balked at that. And, in two short days, managed to find another chump landlord who is willing to rent to them.

Yes, I have a vacant home. Yes, I feel like I let poor Kirby down (I can't imagine he enjoys showing this house given how long it has been vacant). But, I don't believe Mr. Partner would have chosen them either. I had such a bad feeling about approving them to begin with, that I am thinking my gut was telling me I was bringing in trouble.

I feel bad for Kirby. Part of me feels like I undermined Kirby's judgement. I don't want to hurt that relationship. My bank balance isn't going to be happy either. My stomach lining however is feeling better than it has in the past week.

The Thelma Dilema

All apparently seems to be eerily quiet on the Daphne front.

Nothing has happened for days. Even the dogs have disappeared from Daphne's house next door. I would be relieved except, Thelma e-mailed me on Friday with her police report info, telling me I should have it "just in case anything happens to her or the house."

The only thing more disturbing than the e-mail was that the police detective last week suggested she buy a handgun. Thelma said no. She had a shot gun. And, she doesn't have to aim with a shot gun.

It Appears She Wants to Go

Ms. Robin got back to me. Apparently offering to lower the rent didn't really make that much of an impact on her. She tells me they are in the early stages of looking for another place to live. Though, she doesn't know when or where she is going.

If I had to figure this out, it looks like this. Because of life circumstances, the Robins are behind on some bills. The are fervently working on catching up. Because that's how they roll.

Mr. Robin says--quite accurately--they can save a few bucks by finding a cheaper place to live. However, Ms. Robin doesn't think of where she lives in terms of her rent payment. She defines her residence this way: it is a four bedroom, two bath home, with a few extra perks. It is a rather large home and she once told me it is one of the nicest she has ever lived in.

In order for the Robins to move, they will need to 1) find a place 2) cough up the deposit and first month's rent. Given where they are with their bills, I am guessing the second part is going to be a bit more challenging.

I am also guessing this process has no time frame. It will really depend more on how adamantly Mr. Robin pushes this and how solid their marriage happens to be.

So for now, I am holding my breath, biding my time. Because pretty soon I am going to get the e-mail I dread.

Leeds

So, Kirby hasn't rented out the home in Leeds just yet. He lowered the rent a bit. Not that I expect lowering the price to make that much difference. Even frugal renters have standards.

Recently Kirby wrote me that he showed the home to someone, but they didn't like the area. My response to Kirby was, "What's not to like?"

The next door neighbor is an aspiring sculptor, specializing in rusted metal. He doesn't charge admission to admire his works of art. After all, isn't that the way in the Cultural Capital of the eastern part of Jefferson County?

And, if he isn't enough reason to move in, where else can you get a crash course on the civil rights movement than from the neighbor across the street?

Sigh... Maybe it is time Kirby started showing this home in the dark.

Today's Request

It has been two years today since this young woman disappeared off the face of the Earth, leaving no trace. She left behind a young son and a lot of questions.

If you have a quick moment today, please send a good thought or a prayer her way. Her family could use them.

All She Wanted Was the Dogs to Stop Barking

Instead, a very big man showed up on Thelma's doorstep on Sunday. He announced he was with the head detective with the Birmingham PD's domestic violence department. He has been personally assigned to Thelma by the chief of police. His job is to check in on her. He even gave her his personal cell and told Thelma to call if there was any suspicious activity at Daphene's home next door.
Additionally, the detective said there are hourly drive-bys and if Thelma needs anything, she is to turn on her porch light if she can't dial 911. This will alert the powers that be Thelma needs helps. Like a Batlight. Only more subtle.

Thelma is a bit concerned that if no other activity happens at Daphene's she will look like a clown. I would prefer her looking like a clown to any other alternative. They also want to make a bust, so could Thelma please tell them when there is something to report--like the dogs or other activity. As if Thelma wasn't doing that in the first place!

In her e-mail to me, Thelma said she is a bit overwhelmed. I can only imagine. I am way over here and I feel helpless. This must be maddening for her.

The Ugly Side

Legal Eagle has made it very clear I amuse her. That's nice. Hopefully that gives me a discount on billable hours.

Or not.

I apparently don't amuse her too much, because last Friday I called her with a conundrum, hoping to hear back and haven't just yet.

You see, I have a bit of a situation. And, before we go any further, Gentle Reader, let's just get this out in the open: this isn't a politically correct blog. So, if you are a bit sensitive, you may not want to read any further. I am not a bigot. I am not stereotyping. I am telling the truth--and the truth today is pretty darn ugly. So, please feel free to call the Political Correct Police and report me. I don't care.

I have a home next door to what my tenant refers to as a "ghetto rat" and a "crack whore." Apparently Thelma is having some issues with Ghetto Rat Daphene. Daphene it seems has allowed her adult daughter and her daughter's two gang-member friends to move in and take over her home. What was a quiet home and quiet neighbors is turning into a very suspicious situation, with unsavory people coming in and out at all hours of the day and night.

Additionally, the gang member friends have been breeding pit bulls in Daphene's yard. But, they aren't doing much else to the pit bulls. They chain them in the front yard--or the back--depending upon their mood. They forget to feed and water the dogs. They also hurt the dogs and encourage the dogs to be aggressive to Thelma and Thelma's animals. In exchange, the dogs bark and whine until they are hoarse. And, they do it at all hours of the day and night.

When this started, Thelma politely asked the gang members (Thing 1 and Thing 2) to please take care of the dogs. She also suggested to them some time in the past she didn't appreciate them stealing from her cable box. Thing 1 growled at Thelma something along the lines of "try to create trouble and see what happens."

Undeterred, Thelma called Daphene's landlord and explained the situation. There are thugs next door. There are several dogs next door who do not shut up. The dogs are being treated cruelly. The grass is five feet high. There are rats in the grass. There are health and safety issues related to this entire situation.

The circumstances have escalated to an unreasonable point. The landlord has been out a few times. The police have been called and are now driving by on an hourly basis. However, at one unfathomable point early on, a police officer actually stood on Daphne's door and pointed towards Thelma's home--indicating it was Thelma who called them out. Because of that, the East Precinct, narcotics division and the sheriff's office are now stepping up patrols.

But, that isn't quieting the situation any. Daphene has been walking around the street, talking with neighbors, pulling high school girl games. But the message is clear: she is furious at Thelma for calling the landlord and the police and (according to Daphene), Thelma is going to get it. I don't know if that means her tires slashed or my home firebombed. I hope neither.

Thelma has taken this threat pretty seriously. And, so have I. Everyone with any power has been put on notice. In fact, Daphene is in the Section 8 housing program, and her case worker has been made aware. They are supposed to drop in and say hello this week. That isn't going to make Daphene any happier I suppose.

But evicting Daphene takes some time. Having her or Thing 1 and Thing 2 arrested for drugs takes evidence. It doesn't really help the immediate situation. Thelma doesn't really have the compunction to call the police every time they look cross-eyed at her. Instead, she stays in. And, she keeps her pets inside.

Why I want to talk to Legal Eagle? Well, I am willing to pay for Legal Eagle to write a letter to Daphene's landlord, explaining if anything happens to Thelma or my home, his ass is mine. I want him on notice.

If Thelma is willing to fight to take back her neighborhood, so am I.

Should She Stay Or Should She Go?

Remember when my biggest concern was whether or not my crummy tenant would leave when I started an eviction?

I do. I recently read through a smattering of old blogs and thought, "Holy cow! I put up with THAT?"

Of course the reason I put up with "that" is because at the time it was the lesser of evil. My choices reflected the circumstances. I can honestly say, the majority of the choices I made in the past few years I am happy with when it comes to my accidental business.

Times have definitely changed. My problem children are currently Ms. Kathy and Ms. Robin. Neither would have hit the radar two years ago. Ms. Kathy has always been Ms. Kathy-like, but two years ago she wasn't anywhere near my biggest annoyance.

Ms. Robin has only been an issue for the past few months. And, I know what caused her circumstances. She isn't a problem child, per se. She is in a problem situation. And, right now, Ms. Robin is my biggest going concern (given that I have another week to see if Ms. Kathy took my threat seriously).

Ms. Robin is in a tough spot. She is trying to get through their bills from when she was out of work. She is muddling through her own set of circumstances which has led her to where she is now. And, her circumstances are affecting me. Because if she is late on the rent, I have a problem.

Mr. Robin's solution would be to rent a less expensive home. He can find one I am sure, but probably not one as nice as the one they live in now. The home they live in is four bedrooms, quite large and a bit more pricey than most of the ones I own. If they move, I can probably get what I am asking right now. However, if they move, I would give it to Kirby and let him put it in property management. Hence, I wouldn't see as much money.

That led to an interesting quandary: do I let Ms. Robin go, do I lower the rent a bit to what Kirby would charge or do I do neither and find my own tenant and manage it on my own? I picked lowering the rent and seeing if Ms. Robin would bite.

I don't know if I can lower it enough to make Mr. and Ms. Robin happy. But, I took a stab. If it doesn't work, I will be back in the same place I am in now. But I will be doing it with a brand new person who I might not like nearly as much.

Humility

There is nothing so humbling as re-reading posts from six months ago, one year ago or two years ago. I feel like I am finally getting the hang of this landlord thing.

Cute is for Kittens

Last week I got an odd e-mail from the manager of my bank, Jenny. You see, she contacted me because she is interested in buying her first rental home. She knew I was a real estate agent. And, she knew I was a landlord. Could I help her?

I am convinced she must not know any other real estate agents in the entire Phoenix metro area, because Jenny does have access to my rental's bank balance. Even owning a gazillion rental homes, it is safe to say we aren't rolling in dough (but that is for another blog).

On our first journey into rental home shopping, Jenny, Mr. Jenny and I stopped by a condo she had picked out. As soon as I met Mr. Jenny, I knew there was trouble. He isn't on board with this whole rental home thing. It wasn't just his body language or his outward hostility towards me that clued me in, it was these exact words he uttered to his loving wife as we crossed the threshold into the first property, "I don't want to buy a rental home."

I can tell you, as a real estate agent, and more importantly as an investor: if one party isn't on board, there is no reason to continue. If Mr. Jenny had to be talked into driving out to see one condo, it wasn't going to get any better than this--no matter how much Jenny put a positive spin on the situation.

That said, I knew I was in trouble when we entered the home and Jenny started gushing about "how cute" the place was. These are not words spoken by investors. These are words spoken by someone wanting an expensive hobby. A true investor isn't looking for something "cute."

So... Saturday, I sat down with Jenny over iced tea and spelled out the situation to her.

First, she is starting a business. No matter if she is buying her first home or her twenty-seventh, Jenny needs to think like a CEO. CEOs don't look at homes and use the word "cute." They look at homes and say, "I can make $300 a month positive cash flow."

Next, in order for this whole rental property thing to work, both parties in the marriage must be on board. If Jenny forces Mr. Jenny into buying a rental home he doesn't want, no matter what happens there will be trouble. The tenant is a day late, it is a major stress. The garbage disposal stops working, Mr. Jenny won't take kindly to it. Essentially, make sure Mr. Jenny is saying yes to a long-term commitment and not saying yes to placate Jenny and her new shopping hobby. It will not get any better from there.

Jenny and I also talked about what she wanted for a tenant. She started with a "nice family" but not a single mother. When I pointed out she was looking at 2 bedroom condos, and families tended to want 3 bedroom homes, she didn't exactly understand. Spelling it out, I asked Jenny: who rents 2 bedroom homes?

Jenny then changed her criteria to anyone who could afford the rent. Although that is very nice, I know she doesn't mean that either. From there she picked someone with a 720 credit score. I pointed out people with 720 credit scores don't rent for very long. So, expect to turn the property over every year or so.

Eventually we got around to the crux of my question: depending upon where she was looking, would depend upon what kind of tenant she got. Look near the university, she was likely to get a student. Look in Scottsdale, she was likely to get a single white-collar professional. The difference being, Jenny will pay a different price for a student condo than she will for a Scottsdale condo. In exchange, she will get a different rent amount and different headaches.

A student may stay for a few years, but they won't fix much or take as good care of Jenny's asset as someone renting in Scottsdale. Jenny might get more rent in Scottsdale (and pay a higher price to begin with), but she probably won't get a long-term tenant. However, she will have a higher appreciation when she sells. It was an interesting exercise. And, there really isn't a right or wrong answer.

Jenny finally asked me what I thought. My basic response was this:

Buy the biggest, nicest property in the best possible neighborhood for the lowest amount of money. I recommended looking in lower crime areas of some of the suburbs. Try to find places near major employers. Don't be afraid to spend a little more for nicer places or places that have better amenities (such as pools and garages--which are gold for a townhome or condo). These are costs that can be passed along to a renter.

I explained to Jenny that spending an extra $10,000 might be the difference between a neighborhood that is appreciating at a reasonable rate, and a place that was in a neighborhood that probably is past its prime. Neighborhoods that are past their prime will probably not attract desirable renters. I also explained one of the myths about owning rental homes--it isn't a get-rich quick scheme. Monthly cash flow is important. But, the real money to be made is from buying low and selling high--just like with the stock market.

I gave her some hard numbers to look at and left her with a quick thought: because she is starting with a few extra challenges (like Mr. Jenny), it will be worth it to get a property management company involved from the get-go. Let them find the tenant and manage the headaches. Everyone will sleep better at night. Her marriage will be stronger for it. And, she won't have to write a therapeutic blog.

Rethinking My Priorities

The reason I have turned to a full-time real estate diva is partially because I am addicted to groceries, water and electricity. However, the rest of the reason is that we are hoping the extra income will go towards fixing our under-capitalized issues. That is, it would if we had any left after paying for groceries, water and electricity (Have you any idea how much food a 43 pound 8-year old can consume in one day?).

Anyway... I have been doing the real estate diva thing. This week I showed my clients a home waaaayyyy out in the Western part of the Phoenix metro area. As we pulled into the driveway, we were greeted by a stray pit bull. We weren't sure what to make of him, but my client decided I was in charge and thrust me between the dog, her and her three year old son. Turns out the dog was harmless.

However, the dog on Thursday I have my doubts about.



His name was--and I am not making this up--Rambo. (Yes, yes, yes! I am sure in other circumstances he is adorable.)  Rambo didn't have an ounce of fat on him. What he did have is a serious attitude problem. He followed us into every single room of "his" home, growling between the doorway and our destination. About half-way through this home, Rambo decided our tour was up. We heartily agreed. 

But, if Rambo wasn't enough. Also on Thursday we went out to the very Eastern edge of the Phoenix metro area--a place known to the rest of the educated society as the State of New Mexico. And there, coiled on the edge of the driveway--a million miles from civilization was a huge snake. I am pretty sure it was an anaconda.  It laid there, daring me to come closer. No problem on my end. I was done with that house. I didn't care if my client was or not.

You know, maybe I am making too big a deal of fixing my under-capitalized issues (or taking hot showers).

I'm Not Ms. Kathy's Clown

Well, Ms. Kathy backed down from her arrogant stance of paying me when she darn well feels like it. In her e-mail back to me, she included about six different versions of an apology.

Apparently in my e-mail the line, "if you are unclear on this particular point let me explain it to you: your luck, and my patience have run out," was completely effective. Or, maybe it was when I called her a liar. Who knows?

It's a good thing she backed down too. I still don't want to spend the money to evict her. Nor do I want to deal with two former tenants living within arm's reach of this vacant home.

I gave her until her next rent check to get current. She agreed (interspersed between her apologies). Now let's see if she follows through. I wasn't bluffing, but I certainly don't want to prove it.

74 Days (or So) To Go

Ms. Kathy had three things going for her last week when she sent me an e-mail telling me the remaining rent would be coming in $50 increments for the next several weeks.

1. She sent me enough money to make the eviction process not worth it at this time.

2. I was sick enough to know that if I wrote her back I probably would use words with way too many syllables for her to understand exactly how furious I was. And, being sick, I wasn't sure I could control my syllable count.

3. Carolsue was going to call her and be the good cop. You know, "Hey Ms. Kathy, this is Carolsue, I don't know what has gotten into the landlord, but boy was she mad at y'all when I mentioned your name.... what happened?" Even as stupid as I think Ms. Kathy happens to be, I am not sure she would believe it if Carolsue called her and was friendly (no offense Sweetie, but you scare the hell out of me so Ms. Kathy must cower under the bed when she sees your name come up.).

Last week, when I started growling about kicking her out, Marty Sunshine pointed out this was a terrible time to find a renter. Why not wait until January? We didn't have to renew her lease. We could ask her to leave then. Carolsue echoed similar sentiments. Neither impressed me.

And though that seems like pearls of wisdom, neither of them are personally dealing with a woman who puts bailing her brother out of jail over paying her rent for her and her kids on a regular basis. This task is left to me. So, even though I was thinking through an Alka-Seltzer induced haze, it made perfectly logical sense to have a vacant home for a month or two than deal with Ms. Kathy and her stupidity.

And yet, like most everything Alabama that has happened to me in the past few years, Providence stepped in. Legal Eagle contacted me. Mr. Smith was fired from his job. He is neither working right now (I also checked on Facebook) nor is he doing anything productive. He is also still living across the street from Ms. Kathy's home (still with his father-in-law). Mr. Smith also found out I was trying to garnish his wages. Apparently he wasn't very happy about that (but as he isn't employed right this second, it doesn't matter).

Now I really don't want a vacant home. Just what I need, Ms. Kathy living next door with her sister and Mr. Smith living across the street. Two evicted tenants with an ax to grind and an empty home. I made an executive decision: Ms. Kathy gets to stay.

Please! Somebody please remind me of this next time I start threatening to kick her out sooner.

Come early January, I can politely tell her I am not renewing her lease, and thanks for the laughs. Bye-bye now.

And, you never know. Maybe by then I will have convinced Mr. Partner that Kirby is worth every penny and we need to lower the rent on the home. I have 74 days (or so) to accomplish that task.

There Are No Accidents

Last Sunday night, I wrote my previous blog. I actually didn't know what direction I was heading with it. Only that I feel the need to justify Kirby's existence.

On Monday night, my left foot went in three distinctly directions all at once. I have the x-rays to prove it. The result was my short-lived kick boxing hobby is now on hold for the next four to six weeks.

There seemed to be a decent metaphor there: I equate this to my life prior to Kirby. My foot was going in three directions then too. Except it didn't physically hurt as much.

On Tuesday, I caught a mind-numbing cold/flu/pleurisy/Legionnaire's disease that has left me flat.

On Wednesday, I was whimpering on the couch, handling real estate calls, making a voodoo doll of Ms. Kathy when Kirby called. The Fultondale home has an electrical issue. By any chance did I have an electrician I use? Yes, yes I do. Call him. Tell him to fax me the bill.

I also asked Kirby to give me a fair assessment on what I can get for rent on Ms. Kathy's home next time he was out towards Leeds (the houses are three miles apart). Speaking of Leeds, he has had several showings. I haven't thought much about it actually.

On Thursday Kirby e-mailed me. The Fultondale home has a bad potty in the master bath. It amazes me Artie and Candy never once mentioned either of these issues. Ever. Nonetheless, please call Mr. 114 or my new plumber friend. Have them send me the bill.

And on Thursday, I felt well enough to say I can't quantify Kirby. What Kirby affords me is freedom. I have had the freedom to work on other things: like being a wife, mother and real estate agent. My hobbies have transitioned from full time landlord and blog writer, to taking up kickboxing, watching baseball and reading. Yes, I write the check when something breaks, but there is some safety and sanity in hearing news second hand.

After years of going solo (with Carolsue's help), I am realizing the price of freedom is never too high.

Money Well Spent?

I don't exactly struggle with my decision to hire Kirby as much as I feel some sort of need to justify spending the money. Essentially, he is doing what I have been doing for years. And, he costs more.

I think of it like owning a family pet. Fluffy eats the food you buy, lives in your dwelling, but doesn't really provide any actual quantifiable value. Yes, your feet might be warmer on a cold night while Fluffy carefully lays on them. But, after feeding, vet bills and other expenses are you really getting your money's worth? Find me one pet owner who says no.

Statistically, my sample size to justify Kirby is two homes--the ones in Calera. Is it fair to judge Kirby by the success or failure of these two homes? Statistics can be a messy quantifiers. For example, Ian Kennedy, starting pitcher for the Arizona Diamondbacks, managed to eek out nine wins this season. Statistically, that is pretty darn awful. However, what isn't said is the Arizona Diamondbacks bullpen (that would be the relief pitchers for the uninterested) managed to blow a majority of Kennedy's games, rendering him a fabulous pitcher with a loosing record. In fact, the bullpen managed to blow 50 of the 96 losses the Snakes made--which makes Kennedy's nine wins more amazing. The bullpen didn't blow those.

Essentially, I pay Kirby a portion of the first month's rent, and then a percentage of the rent every month thereafter for the duration of the lease. In return I still have some headaches and still have to write the check when things go wrong. This is where I get lost. As much as I appreciate Kirby, I am not sure I need him.

It isn't as if I plan to fire him. But there is a part of me--probably the high-strung type A part of me that has control issues--that feels like I should have held out longer. After all, with Carolsue's help, we were surviving without Kirby for years. Now I have Kirby and Carolsue.

My rhetorical question is: what have I spent my money on and was it worth the cost?

To be continued.

Big Time

I have reached the big time: I am now getting x-rated spam in my comments (deleted immediately).
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Recently, I noticed a mundane blog post of mine kept getting anywhere from 50 to 80 hits every day, all coming from two locales in former eastern block countries. Then this same mundane post started getting a hit or two from Yemen and a country or two ending with "stan". I was flattered for the attention, but thought it best to pull the post.
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And finally, if you would like to see what a very clever 10 year old can do with Legos and a great imagination, check out his youtube videos (you will love it Alec!).

This Will Hurt Me More Than It Hurts Her

Ms. Kathy's lease is up February 1, 2011. I don't know if she is staying or going. Given her sister lives next door, Ms. Kathy has no money to move and deems me as a pushover for a landlord, I am guessing she is planning on staying.

On January 1, 2011 I can officially give her a 30 day notice, asking her to leave. I envision my overall joy of not having to deal with Ms. Kathy's stupidity ever again. And, as of this week, the stupidity level is pretty damn high.

I hate the fact I put up with her and her excuses. I hate the fact I feel trapped, because her stupidity is the lesser of evil. On one hand she pays. On the other hand, she is under the impression I care about her problems and the reasons why she repeatedly pays late. She is also under the mistaken impression I believe her when she apologizes. Over and over again. I can honestly say, if Carolsue weren't riding her I would have evicted her long ago.

I have been running a few scenarios through my head about what I wish to do January 1, 2011.

1. Keep Ms. Kathy. Keep dealing with this nonsense. Keep writing in my blog. After all, I know her game. I know the rules. She takes decent care of the place. She has roots in the neighborhood. She is happy. She doesn't ask for repairs. And, she generally pays her rent on time. At this moment keeping her is cheaper than evicting her.

2. Give the property over to Kirby to manage and let Ms. Kathy stay. This seems the most sensible solution for my sanity. However, if Ms. Kathy is aware I am still in the picture, I would imagine she would still pay late. Kirby would then probably either make the executive decision to evict her or more likely ask me how I felt about letting her slide--which puts me back at square one. Meanwhile, I will pay Kirby a monthly fee to field the same drama and pass it on to me.

3. Ask Ms. Kathy to leave and continue managing myself with Carolsue's guidance. Ms. Kathy would probably go, but not by January 31, like her lease states. I would then end up lowering the rent about $50 to $100 to compensate for the overall market rent going down and the fact it is a one bathroom home (the realtor lied to me when I bought it). I would also have a vacant home and an unknown factor of what I will get for the next tenant. Meanwhile, Ms. Kathy would probably live next door with her sister. I will probably have the home vacant for six to eight weeks.

4. Ask Ms. Kathy to leave and give to Kirby to manage. I would end up lowering the rent $50 to $100. He would charge a property management fee on top of that. I will not break even if Kirby manages this home and I lower the rent. I will probably have the home vacant for six to eight weeks.

I am trying to figure out a win-win scenario. The easiest is to keep Ms. Kathy--though I don't feel like it is a win-win situation if I do. Ideally, if I keep her, she will loose her sense of entitlement. Ideally I am a size 5 too.

When I wrote her today, I ended my e-mail by saying, "I am tired of this game." Anyone want to bet she either takes offense to that or feigns ignorance?

I have some time to figure out my choices for Ms. Kathy's home. Meanwhile, I am keeping an eye on homes for rent in Ms. Kathy's area of town. The schools are very good. Maybe if I have to make a move, it won't be until closer to summer. Or, maybe Ms. Kathy will figure out how to pay her rent on time and save me a bigger headache.

But probably not.

Going Steady

Kirby e-mailed me on Tuesday. The woman who he has been courting for my Fultondale home for the past three weeks finally committed. She brought the deposits, the rent and a portion of her personal belongings to the home today and signed on the dotted line.

It appears she likes long-term commitments. She has had the same job for 16 years. She lived in the same place for quite a while too. She believes in being low maintenance, so she is going to have her rent automatically deposited in Kirby's account on the first of the month.

If she doesn't come with baggage, she will be a match made in Heaven.

The Leeds Glitch

Having a real estate license and owning a gajillion rental homes poses a few problems when it comes to fair housing. As a reasonable person, I should be voluntarily willing to accept a tenant no matter what the color of their skin, their religion or handicap happens to be.

Also as a reasonable person, I really don't care about the above. I just want the most sane, normal and employed people I can find with the least amount of unnecessary drama. I don't blink twice if they have green skin with purple spots, a three noses and/or worship a hedgehog named Hortense.

I didn't really know much about fair housing laws until I got my license. Since then, every time I have to take the class, my real estate instructors, to drive their points home, share stories of HUD testers, purposely looking for agents who violate federal fair housing laws, imposing stiff fines, jail time and the potential loss of my license. I first heard these stories when I was a lowly agent. When I opted to own rental homes in the South, I started paying closer attention.

My former Arizona and current Alabama tenants come in many colors and many religions. They come from different parts of the world. Some are single. Some are married. Some have handicaps. If anyone ever suggests I discriminate based on the government's defined protected classes, they would have a hard time proving it. Because I don't.

However, there is a philosophical issue the bureaucrats and I seem to be at odds about. I don't see how I can put a non-white tenant safely in my Leeds house, because the neighbors of don't seem to care two figs about fair housing violations.

Before I opted to give Kirby this home to rent, I discussed this particular issue with him. He has a license too. I wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into. As he grew up in the South, I didn't have to say much for him to get a pretty clear picture.

I have also discussed this in great length with Legal Eagle. Her outrageously expensive hourly rate recommendation is simply not to deny housing to anyone. However, I can let a potential tenant figure out for themselves if they want to live in the Leeds home.

So, I can't tell anyone, "No, you can't rent here because I don't trust the next door neighbor not to put an oiled cross in the driveway if your skin color is anything but white." Instead, I always tell the would-be renter, "Drive around the neighborhood. Check out who would be your neighbors and make sure this is a place you want to live. Be sure you feel like you would be a good fit."

So far that has been enough of a discreet warning.