That's How He Rolls

I heard from Mario on Tuesday. It looks like he has an application for my house on Hysteria Lane. He managed to get it rented in less than two months, and in December--the worst month for finding a renter.

Oh yea. He totally rocks.

In Other News...

Along with Ms. Shirley, on Monday, I sent a rare text to Ms. Angie asking where my rent happened to be. It isn't rare to text Ms. Angie, as I prefer communicating with her this way. I actually understand what she is saying. It is rare Ms. Angie is late on the rent.

What I got back was a text from Ms. Angie, telling me rent was going to be late because she had used part of it to buy Christmas presents for her grandchildren. My reply was, "What a coincidence! I was going to use that same money to pay the mortgage on your home."

In no less than 47 seconds after I sent the text I received a frantic call from Ms. Angie. I believe she was apologizing and explaining I would see rent this week, but I can't be sure. She said something about being sorry but the rest was lost in the translation. I just cannot decipher Southern black woman when Ms. Angie is upset.

When things seemed to be square between us, Ms. Angie then started talking very quickly again with her thick drawl. She did this for another 15 minutes or so, with the only words I completely and utterly understood were "drive-by shooting" and "next door."

Yep. No mistaking that.

I am certain she told me nobody was hurt and the folks were caught. Or at least relatively certain. I might text her later just to be sure.

The Games Ms. Shirley Plays

As far as tenants go, Ms. Shirley is acceptable. She keeps the place in good shape. She doesn't have pets. My biggest complaint about her is the once a month game of getting my rent check. I half-wonder if she gets some sort of satisfaction out of me calling and hunting down what is legally owed. 

Ms. Shirley is one of those who knows more than she lets on. Once in a while, she will say something out of the blue about one of my homes--actually mentioning the location by the street name, giving me the distinct impression she is stalking me. Or, she would be if I was living closer. However, I have often wondered if she has found this blog. It wouldn't surprise me, given some of the things she has let slip over the course of several years and her slight fascination with my business.

So, if Ms. Shirley is reading this today, this one's for you. Or, it is about whomever now has your phone number--the same phone number you have had for four years.

I sent a text out to Ms. Shirley today asking when I can expect December's rent. It isn't as if this is a new concept to her: I ask every month because she can't be bothered pay on time or volunteer the information on a regular basis. However, this time I got a reply back asking who wanted to know. When I replied, "the landlord" I got another text feigning registering confusion. My reply was, "I'm not in the mood for this today."

Now then, if I hadn't spent several hours prior paying bills and coming up with creative ways to make Kirby pay for his inability to rent out my homes, I might have been in a better frame of mind. But I did spend the morning juggling around this and that to make sure property taxes were covered. And, I did spend the morning googling how to make this (for Kirby). And I really, really wasn't in the mood for games.

I would be willing to give Ms. Shirley the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps she had changed her phone number, if the person who texted me back had identified themselves as NOT Ms. Shirley. Or, if the person who has the number I have always associated with Ms. Shirley hadn't called five times in a row immediately after I sent my text.

Or, if I hadn't gotten an e-mail from Ms. Shirley telling me when rent was coming less than three minutes after I had received five phone hang-ups in a row.

That's not an odd coincidence is it?

A Funny Thing Happened On My Way to the Zen Garden

I haven't written of late, because I have been focused on other things that are not in Alabama. Some of it is real estate. Some of it is life itself. And then there is the fact Sue Grafton's latest novel hit the book stores (it was awesome by the way).

And of course, there has been nothing new worth writing about. All is status quo. More or less, with the more irritating items on my Alabama agenda sending me into a frenzy and then to my happy place to chill out for a bit before I can rejoin civilization.

This past week I found out that Kirby has known for a month that he needed the gas turned on for an inspection at the home he supposedly found a renter for. So, there is no renter at this time. And, the inspection still hasn't happened. The first he mentioned it to me was two days ago. Actually, he mentioned it to Marty Sunshine, completely bypassing me. I think this is because he might find me to be a tad bit of a loose cannon when he tells me he dropped the ball.

In all fairness to Kirby, I didn't yell at him. I left a politely bitchy message explaining that I was confused he was now bringing this to our attention--after knowing about this for the past four weeks and don't we have a property management company that is supposed to turn on the gas for us? And could he please clarify my confusion. Because there are nothing left to tend to in my zen garden/happy place and I am on the brink of a stresss-induced aneurysm.

And for those who are wondering why Kirby is still employed by me, it is simply because Mario hasn't proven himself any better--though, he does talk a better talk. Mario does return phone calls. Mario gives feedback. But Mario hasn't rented out my home on Hysteria Lane up to this point. Of course, it could be the time of year. But essentially, Mario hasn't earned the rest of my business.

For the past two days, Marty Sunshine has been calling the gas company and can't seem to get a live person on the phone. It looks like the gas won't be turned on until at least next week. And soon thereafter will be asking Mario to earn his keep and rent out Hysteria Lane so I can transfer everything else over to him and head back to my happy place.

Magic Words

So... I was working my "y'all" job Saturday--the job where I get yelled at by folks with poor planning skills who need trucks right now but didn't think to call in weeks ahead of time when they first found out they would be moving speak with people from all over the country, helping them reserve white and orange moving trucks.

That job.

Anyway, a woman from Alabama called. She was brisk and borderline snotty. And, she certainly wasn't in the mood for me to run through my script--even though I do it anyway because I am addicted to a paycheck. When she told me she was from Tuscaloosa, I automatically said, "roll tide."

She responded in same and the conversation went from snarky caller to a woman who wanted to invite me over for Sunday dinner. And yes, she reserved a truck.

Does Hallmark Make A Card For This?

Ms. Angie graduates from college today. Ms. Angie will also be celebrating Christmas in a few weeks. After that, she will watch her favorite football team (presumably) win the BSC College championship (roll tide!). After that she will celebrate her birthday, her children and grand children will also celebrate birthdays. Then there will be Christmas all over again.

And my gift to her, for all those events and many more to come is a new roof.

To Be Fair, If She Had Just Texted, "Roll Tide" I Wouldn't Have Raised an Suspicious Eyebrow

I got Ms. Kathy's rent check on Tuesday. I skeptically looked it over, wondering what could possibly be wrong with it. It was a cashier check--something I have forced her to resort to years ago. It was for the right amount. But it didn't stop me from muttering, "What is wrong with this?"

Apparently nothing.
I guess she really wanted to say Merry Christmas after all.

Roll Tide

I would like to tell you this is an exaggeration.

But it isn't.

Why am I Suspicious?

Remember Ms. Kathy?

For those of you who are new here to Sage Business, Ms, Kathy is my tenant who has been living in my home for three or four years now (I don't remember which). She only calls on the Friday of a three day weekend to tell me about some pending disaster which will immediately need a plumber or electrician to handle.

For a very long time, she would send me e-mails, long after the rent was due, making up some sorry excuse as to why she didn't have the money she owed me. One such excuse involved using her rent money to bail her brother out of jail. After several months of me cursing her name and Carolsue cursing her face, I got sick of the whole thing and let her have it. I used big words and essentially got it through her brain I was done with her shenanigans.

Since then, she has more or less behaved herself. I think there was an occasion last summer where she gave me heart palpitations for a week or so, but for the most part, Ms. Kathy and I have managed to co-exist with her paying the rent more or less on time and me being happy about it. We don't talk, chat or e-mail. Rent comes with some regularity and I cash the check. Its a very peaceful, low maintenance and high-functioning relationship as far as I am concerned.

So then, imagine my surprise when I got a text from her Saturday. She just wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas and tell me she mailed off the rent.

That was it. No broken faucet. No electrical fire. No crazed former tenant was breaking in wanting to come come in and pine for his former home.

No nothing.

Just Merry Christmas.

Accurate and Utterly Useless

There is some old joke about a man in a hot air balloon asking for directions. He frantically calls down to someone on the ground, asking where he is, and the guy on the ground replies with something like, "You are in a hot air balloon." A completely accurate and utterly useless answer.

This past week, Ms. Angie had a roof leak. I don't have a roofing person. Carolsue, my Alabama go-to girl, doesn't have a roofing person. Mr. 114 doesn't live very close, and hasn't answered my call for help just yet (hopefully he will). But, in the mean-time I asked Kirby if he had a roofing person who could help us out.

His reply, "yes, give me the address and I will send him out to the house."

All accurate, and utterly useless. I would actually like to speak to this person, get an idea of his rates, coordinate a time for Ms. Angie to meet him there to take care of this. I don't want him showing up without my tenant knowing. My fault for not clearly explaining: do you have a roofing person I can speak with and coordinate an inspection with?

I'd ask Kirby again, but it is probably more expeditious to just wait for Mr. 114 to call me back.

I've Heard It All Before

If I had to give a list of top three least favorite tenants, Mr. Smith would be on there. Depending upon my mood and my criteria for the day, he vacillates between the ranks, but usually ends up third--only because he is the only one of the three who probably didn't commit a felony in my home.

Just for the record, I am not saying the other two did commit felonies. We are clear on that. Right???

However, Mr. Smith is the one I absolutely liked the least. Mr. Smith annoyed me to no end. He would call me on a regular basis to tell me I'm great, offer me building supplies and construction services I didn't want or need, and in general ran up my cell minutes with me trying to get him off the phone. This happened about once a month, whether I wanted to hear from him or not.

Mr. Smith could talk a good talk. And I suspect he always had the best of intentions. But he is one of those people who has big plans and bigger excuses. The only consistent thing about Mr. Smith was that he promised what he wasn't able to deliver. I was thrilled to get him out of my life--even if he did just move across the street. Unfortunately he made me go to court to do it.

And, when I went to court that fateful day I told the judge what he owed me and it is now a matter of public record. Where ever Mr. Smith goes, that will follow. And from what I understand, it is following.

Thursday night, I was checking my e-mail found a friendly note from Mr. Smith. He inquired about mine and my family's well-being and then he slipped in that he wants to make good on his judgement. And oh yes! He misses his Ms. Kathy's house. And by the way, he reproduced again. Another boy.

I sent the letter directly to Legal Eagle for her amusement, because that is all it will be. I am guessing if he has a job, a garnishment is possible. But I doubt he will 1) follow through with the job and 2) follow through with the garnishment. 

Today's Bittersweet Gem

Diamond Jim called me out of the blue last week to invite me to breakfast. I knew something was up.

You see, Diamond Jim and I go to breakfast about once a month anyway, but never by way of a formal invite. I usually end up calling him because I have gotten some obscure letter from the Alabama Department of Revenue (I so wish they would stop sending me random letters. Yes! I pay my taxes! No! I don't owe them.) or I bump into him at his office because I am there using his landlord's scanner. Our conversations go like this:

DJ: "Are you going to be hungry next week?"
Me: "I think I could be hungry on Tuesday.
DJ: "Better make it Wednesday. I am up to my neck in letter writing with the Alabama Department of Revenue.

So, Diamond Jim actually calling with a formal invitation was a bit unnerving.

I must say, however, I am really glad I have reached a point in my life where I can have friends the same age as my parents. Friends who are cool. And I am glad Diamond Jim can have friends the same age as his daughter--and those friends aren't 11 years old in his eyes. Because of him I can even stomach longish talks about college football.

Sort of.

But, back to our breakfast. Diamond Jim announced he is doing the inevitable. He is retiring after next tax season. Actually he tried to retire a few years ago, but it didn't turn out the way he planned. This time he is really, really, and for true retiring. In fact, he is even selling his house this time and moving out of state.

Though I will miss my dear friend, I know it is time for him to do this. But Diamond Jim is ready to enjoy his golden years, free of tax loopholes and the incompetency of the Alabama Department of Revenue.  I wish him all the best.

Holding My Breath

Now I don't want to jinx anything here, but there is a chance I might have gotten one of my three vacant properties rented.

Please cross your fingers and toes.

Today's Helpful Tip

If you are ever in the market to buy an investment property, be sure to ask for the prorated rents and non-refundable deposits in your purchase agreement (if the home in question is already rented).

Because if you don't--and especially if I am the selling agent--I am not going to just give them to you after the fact. No matter how many names you might call me and even if you threaten to call the Department of Real Estate.

Tornadoes and Bankruptcy

Apparently tornadoes have been running rampant in the South again. Of course, this is odd, given the time of year. Leeds and Moody--where two of my homes are currently (hopefully) sitting were affected. So far no word on either of my tenants.

And a special thanks to Carolsue for once again keeping me posted.

One little tid-bit I found out on vacation was that Jefferson County declared bankruptcy. Birmingham is in Jefferson County. I wasn't surprised, as Jeff County was in trouble for years for mis-managing their revenues. I am curious what the outcome of this will look like. Probably higher taxes for me. Probably a lower quality of life for my tenants.

Somehow this seems scarier than a tornado.

Random Bama

Apparently word didn't get out that I was here for a week or two (give or take several days at the over-merchandised Florida theme parks):

And while I was gone, lots of fun-fun things happened.

Mario called me to pow-wow the home on Hysteria Lane. This is the home that has been vacant since June, Kirby swore couldn't be rented for any less than $400 lower than the rent I had been getting on it for several years. Kirby also swore the place was immaculate.

Kirby was right. The place is immaculate. However, Kirby did miss the Winney the Pool wall paper the last tenants had plastered on the wall and the dings and dents that needed attention. During my Mario pow-wow, he told me these needed to be handled to make the place attractive. When I asked him for a rental price, he told me what I had been asking for rent on this house for the past seven years was right in line with market.

____________________________________________________________

Speaking of Kirby (and I am trying to keep my attitude in check here), the two other homes I have entrusted in with are not rented. I will pause here while you all collect yourselves, because I know you are absolutely astonished at this news. Take your time...

The reason I haven't given Mario these two homes is that Mario hasn't proven himself yet either. It is one thing to tell me the kiddie wall paper must go, it is another to find me a renter.

____________________________________________________________

And also speaking of Kirby, the tenant on Waterford lane needs a new furnace. Oh yay me. Kirby sweetly gave me three choices: Option 1: pricey band-aid; Option 2: pricier but what probably needs to happen and Option 3: the HVAC guy has a great time in Paris for New Year's, courtesy of me.

____________________________________________________________

And speaking of HVAC systems, apparently Mr. Little got a new one while we were gone. I knew he was supposed to. He lives in the house Jack and I own together, but nobody has mentioned anything to me if it happened. And, because Mr. Little hasn't sent me a screaming e-mail saying he is freezing, I will assume it has been finished until I hear otherwise. I have to wonder though, how did this unit break? Was it a parting gift from Haroldine on her way out the door? The house isn't that old and the four previous tenants I have had there never said a word about the system not working.

____________________________________________________________

And speaking of previous tenants, while I was gone one of my former tenants sent me an odd letter. She told me to stop "harassing her." She said she admits she owes me money, but I am not to contact her any more. This was surprising to me, as I have never contacted her and never planned on it. My guess is someone in a legal aide type position told her to write letters to her creditors. As I am not pursuing her, I found this to be a bit odd she took the time and energy to do this.

____________________________________________________________

And finally, I received the loan modification docs from the bank. Marty signed them and they were sent out today.

Off the Clock

Leave it to Ms. Shirley, on a Saturday night, on the eve of my vacation, to be in semi-desperate need of a plumber.

I suggested Draino--which she could pick up right down the road at the Home Depot on Highway 31. And though I did not think it really needed any explanation, I did have to tell her anyway that I am not right down the road on Highway 31 to pick it up for her.

Awesomeness

Awesome is running rampant today. Just thought I would share.

1. I talked briefly to Uncle Sunshine, who lifted my spirits just because he is wonderful. I can't wait to see him. I don't know if I mentioned this, but I am going on vacation soon. 

2. My sinus infection is on the mend. I am so grateful for the massive antibiotic and steroid I am on. I can almost breathe again. I am crossing my fingers I can sleep somewhere other than the couch tonight. Do I dare dream?

3. Kirby took loosing the house on Hysteria Lane like a man. And, he tells me he rented my home in Futondale--quick back story: tenant didn't pay; tenant got kicked out. Be happy you missed the drama. Because Kirby doesn't keep in touch like he should, I missed the drama too.

4. I got word on Friday that my loan modification is being approved. I haven't seen it yet. Nor, have I ever heard of anyone who has gotten a loan modification approved. But, that is what I am told. So, this is a first. And a relief.

5. And finally, a special shout-out to Bliz and Baseball Guy (who sent me a celebratory text) for their Saint Louis Cardinals--the World Series champs.

Why Yes, I am a Total Pain in the Neck

In one of life's crueler ironies, I have a bad-ass sinus infection and I am scheduled to be on an airplane in mere days. In case you haven't heard, I am going here:

Provided I can breathe well enough to board the plane.

This sinus infection has kept me up nights, with me propped up on the couch. At 2 a.m., there really isn't much to do but think and decide. So, in the wee hours Wednesday morning, I made two decisions: 1) It was time to break down, see a doctor and get an antibiotic; and 2) It was time to take away at least Hysteria Lane from Kirby.

It is actually probably time to take away more than just the house on Hysteria Lane from Kirby, but I am not sure about my new guy, Mario, just yet. So, I am beta-testing him to see what he can do with one home before I go gung-ho.

This morning I wrote Kirby and told him Hysteria Lane wasn't his concern any more. Hopefully he just says, "ok" and recognizes he still is in charge of many more of my homes. Or he can say, "I need a 30 day notice," and then proceed to lose the rest of my homes (in 30 days). Or he can say, "You are a total pain in the neck, here are the rest of your properties. Go away!" I am comfortable with any of the above, though the second choice has more drama and I would prefer not to have drama.

I did put a blatant veiled threat in my e-mail. It said something like, "I will be out of town soon. It would be great to hear that the rest of our homes are rented by then."

In typical Kirby fashion, I haven't heard back just yet. I will give him a few hours, and then this time, I will take Kirby's silence as consent.

Let the Cliche's Begin

After all these years, I am finally working with a vender named, "Bubba."

It Was a Rhetorical Question

I don't work on Monday--which means I get to sleep in past 4 a.m. Unfortunately, Milt at some pest control company in Birmingham didn't get that memo.

When I answered my phone at some heinous hour, he only managed to get out "Good morning Mrs. Landlord, this is Milt at some pest control company in Birmingham, how are you today?"

"Milt," I growled, "It is some heinous hour of the morning. Why are you calling? Is my home on fire?"

Milt gasped, "Oh no ma'am. Your home isn't on fire. You know what, I'll just call back later today."

Note to Milt: it is ok not to call back.

Securing a Loan Modification

There is nothing so humbling as doing a loan modification. The one I am working on is no exception.

Last July we contacted the bank, asked if there was something they would be willing to do for our situation. You see, we had a balloon payment due August 1 on a second mortgage. We were happy to continue paying on a regular basis, but we just didn't have the money in reserves at that time to pay a huge chunk. So, would they be willing to work with us.

Part of the initial process was to write a letter, explaining our circumstances. The bank responded in kind asking for substantial paperwork, akin to a small Bavarian forest.

And just to make life interesting, they communicated what they were looking for using their super-secure method that made me tear my hair out. The password had to be at least 10 characters, use capital letters, lower case letters, non-alpha numeric characters and a number. Not in that order.
 
My password was something like !3thisBiTez. Once I opened up the super-secure messages, I would have only a set amount of time to handle the task on hand. That would be great if I had the endless amounts of time available. But in July, you might remember, I went to two funerals, mourned three friends and worked one full-time job and another part-time job (along with rearing children and other such necessities). I also found out, if I let the e-mails sit until I had a moment or three to read them, they would still expire, leaving me to beg the very nice person at the bank and ask them to send those tasks again, via their super-secure methodology.

Just to be fair, I did ask them if we could act like reasonable people and bypass the super-secure method of communicating--and, I know I am going out on a limb here--talk via e-mail or phone. I was told no. But, that didn't stop me from being passive aggressive and ignoring their process.

By the way, in case it ever comes up, it is never a good idea to be passive aggressive and ignore the super-secure method of communicating when you are dealing with a bank who is offering to do a loan modification with you. I'm just saying...

A typical loan modification requires tax forms, w2s, a letter of explanation and a few ancillaries. A loan modification for an investment home requires all of the above and a few other ancillaries. A loan modification in an LLC, owned by four people requires all of the above, financial statements, bank statements (from every bank account we have) and several other documents. When I was done with the initial paperwork, I had 84 sheets of paper. And no, that is not an exaggeration. I counted.
 
In order to get the bank their paperwork, they required I play by their rules (see above mentioned passive-aggressive failure). Everything had to be scanned. I will not bore you with my scanner issues, only to say I am married to a computer geek who does all sorts of computery thingys in his job. I own a scanner. However, it hasn't worked since the last presidential administration.

"My" scanner has been my real estate office, which was just down the road. In July, my real estate office relocated 20 miles from my home. The UPS store across the street charges $1 a page to scan. I did find sympathy and a scanner to use in Diamond Jim's office. And at this point, I am there so often, I am shocked nobody in Diamond Jim's office is charging me rent.

The bank has been just great--that is, in a asking politely for me to give them more and more answers to questions I can't believe they thought of. However, every time I turn in one item, they ask for three others. Most recently, they asked for updated financial statements, requiring Bliz and Diamond Jim to both sign and return using their super-secure methodologies. They are also asking for explanations for things that happened two years ago. I don't remember two days ago, much less two years ago. But luckily I can BS with the best of them.

The ugly truth is, if they don't approve the second mortgage refinance, we are going to be in a world of hurt. And actually, so will the bank, because they also own the first mortgage on the property. It truly is in their best interest to grant a modification. If they don't they may just end up with a foreclosed property on their books--sent to them in a super-secure method.

An Analogy

There is this TV show that us in the Sunshine homestead watch with great anticipation and regularity. It is a cross between a game show and a cooking show.

In it, four professional chefs (or anyone who managed to pass the screen test for Food Network) have a set time to whip together four mystery ingredients into something palatable. The winner gets a cash prize. The ingredients are never anything like vanilla, eggs, milk and flour. Instead, they are given items such as squid ink, fava beans, buffalo tongue and kumquat juice and told they have 30 minutes to make an original meal.

Then there is the judging section. Three pretentious asses judges scrutinize each meal, saying things like, "I find your use of fried duck feet to be uninspiring," or "I was hoping there would be more crunch in your tomato puree," or (I hear this often) "I was sorely disappointed because your dessert was sweet."

The contestants, in turn respond in one of two ways. Those who have never watched a single episode of this show, are offended by the judges disregard for their culinary creation. Those who apparently have watched the show once or twice just smile politely as they are told by the alpha pretentious ass judge that his or her dish needed salt. Those who smile politely live to see another round and compete for the prize. Those who don't talk smack into the camera as they make the walk out the door, thus ending their participation in the show.

And just to let you know, getting a loan modification is a lot like this game show.

Solutions, Not Problems

I will spare you the ugly details of the past couple months, instead giving your the Reader's Digest version. But first, let me just say this: My vacation is weeks away. I am thisclose to:

  

We have vacant homes. This has caused a tremendous financial hardship. And even "tremendous financial hardship" does not seem to really drive the point home enough. Kirby is still currently our property manager. However, Kirby doesn't seem to really grasp the enormity of the situation, even though it has been explained to him, using one syllable words and 8  x 10 color glossy photos.

Kirby also doesn't understand that he isn't the only game in town. Well, he might get that now, given his conversation with Marty Sunshine Monday. You see, I am no longer able to speak civilly to Kirby. So, that leaves Marty Sunshine to filter what I am thinking to a more pleasant and professional demeanor.

And Monday, Marty Sunshine told Kirby we were going to pull a couple of homes and give them to the other property manager we have courting. The new guy, Mario, is offering up everything from promising to call us back to "great customer service" in order to get our business. He had me at calling me back.

When Marty conveyed this to Kirby, Kirby was floored. Don't ask me why. It seems obvious to me that having three homes vacant, one for four months, is something akin to not doing his job. But, that's just me. Kirby is asking for "a little while longer," whatever that means. Marty is handling this and I am doing my level best to stay away from it, as a string of profanity seems to escape my mouth when the topic comes up.

But, I did get Marty to agree to one particular item: If  Kirby doesn't have a tenant for our Calera home by Thursday, he can just go ahead and get a key to Legal Eagle. Then he and Mario can both look for tenants. Whoever finds a tenant first can rent and manage it. And, once we have handled that, we will start working on giving Mario the next vacant house.

Still Here

Nothing, I repeat, nothing, about our situation in Alabama has changed. There are still vacancies. There is still a deadbeat. And yes, it depresses the heck out of me. Writing about it makes it feel more real. And more scary.

I realized today, with vacation inching upon us, that I have been relying heavily from inspiration from Marty's Uncle Sunshine. He always is a source of inspiration when I see him. But that doesn't mean that I should 1) wait to see him to elicit change and 2) expect him to be my catalyst.

Change is coming one way or another. I am just hoping it is going to be in the right direction.

$44.29 Billion*

Ms. Kathy lives in a cute little house--more like a cottage--in a cute little community called Moody, in the outskirts of Birmingham. Though abutted to Leeds Alabama, for whatever reason, people flock to Moody as a bedroom community (or, they are running from Leeds, take your pick).  Ms. Kathy is no exception. She was raised in the neighborhood. She actually knew most of the neighbors long before she moved in, having grown up with the children of the long-time residents.

On Friday Ms. Kathy, in an utter tizzy, sent me four texts in 14 seconds. You see, in conjunction with all the weird electric issues she was having last week, she also had a representative from the local power company coincidentally show up on her doorstep and politely asked to check the meter.

Ms. Kathy, made sure he said he was who he said was, but still walked with him around the home to the meter. The Power Company Guy then pulled off the meter only to find something melted on the inside and a humongous glob of fused wires and stuck thingamabobbers. I wasn't there, but from what I understand Ms. Kathy--who is a bit electric phobic--almost fainted on the spot.

According to Ms. Kathy, the power company guy told Ms. Kathy to "stick it to the landlord" and make me pay for all of the damage. She then dutifully reported that she would do no such thing. And Power Company Guy offered to fix whatever was melted and horrible for free.

"Was this just random?" I asked. "Did he just show up on your door, or did he do this to every home in the neighborhood?" Ms. Kathy wasn't quite sure. But, she said the Power Company Guy said this should help her electric bills. Then, Ms. Kathy dropped this bombshell on me: Her monthly electric bills are consistently equivalent to the gross domestic product of Tunisia. 

I live in Arizona. I have two air conditioners on my home. I know what pricey electric bills can look like. Ms. Kathy's home is cozy--that's a buzz word for small. She has a living room, kitchen, three bedrooms and a bathroom. There is no reason her electric bills should be higher than mine.

I used to work for the local electric company. At the time I worked there, when someone had consistently high bills--especially living in a cozy cottage like Ms. Kathy's--certain assumptions were sometimes reached. Like was the house in question a grow house? Is it possible someone at the Moody Power Company reached similar conclusions?

So, I said without thinking, "Why so high? Do you have a grow house or something?"

Ms. Kathy had no idea what a grow house was. So then I had to explain it. Which sent Ms. Kathy into another tizzy. And then I apologized. And for the record, I never, ever thought she had a grow house. Honest.

But I do want to know what prompted the Power Company Guy to show up on her door. And I really want to know why her electric bills are super-high. That needs to be remedied. And I really want to know why some gizmo melted on her meter.

*Estimated for 2010--According to the CIA World Factbook

Hopefully The House Won't Burn Down

Tuesday I got a phone call from Ms. Kathy. There was no point for niceties, but we went through them anyway. It was storming at her house and sunny at mine. Her kids are fine. As are mine. Her new job is going well, thanks for asking. All of this was quite unnecessary, as I happen to know any time Ms. Kathy calls there is some sort of extraordinary crisis. 

Frankly, I go into cardiac arrest every time Ms. Kathy calls me. She won't call me to tell me rent will be late. She won't tell me if the septic is stopped up until 5:01 p.m. the Friday of a holiday weekend (and did). But, she will call me if there is an electrical issue. Apparently "electrical issues" are the 9-1-1 of landlord calls in Ms. Kathy's vernacular.

I gave Ms. Kathy the electrician's number and suggested she find a time convenient for both of them to get this resolved. I guess I was a bit more lackadaisical about it than she was anticipating--though I am not sure what she was expecting me to do from here. Hop the first plane to Birmingham with my volt meter and a Phillip's screwdriver? I recommended, under the circumstances, just not using the light socket until the electrician has had a chance to take a peek.

Ms. Kathy has been renting from me for just shy of three years. She reminded me there was the same electrical issue years ago. I don't remember. But I will take her word for it. I do remember something about a loose wire and Ms. Kathy having some sort of fear of the house burning down. But, that's about it. Hopefully my electrician remembers better than I do. And hopefully he has a Phillip's screwdriver.

Only In Alabama

I got an e-mail from the bank I am working with in Alabama today. My representative included this as part of her signature.

Personally, I don't have any problem with this whatsoever. And I am glad that Freedom of Speech is running rampant. You don't see this from bigger, more corporate banks.

Sincerely,

Ms. Prunella Bank Officer

Some Heroes Wear Capes Mine Wear Combat Boots

In GOD We Trust

High Expectations

I got an e-mail about my Calera home the other day. My Calera home is probably my nicest home. It was built a few years ago and is an upscale area. This person sent the following e-mail:

"We r very interested in this home. Our credit is really bad right now, but we will be able to buy in a few years. Do u want to sell? Will u take $600 a month?"

I am pretty sure you can't rent a cardboard box just about any metropolitan city for $600 a month, much less in Calera.

Nah.... He Doesn't Have Time to Read

Kirby knows I have a blog. But, I have never given him the address. So, unless he has found it by other means (and hello if you have), he has no idea that I have been writing about how I am a tad frustrated this past week.

However, Kirby has taken the last day or so to answer my e-mails in a timely manner. Of course, the first one Monday said something like "Hey Dude! I have now asked you this simple yes or no question three times in the past week. What gives?"

The answer to that question happens to be the deadbeat is still living in Fultondale and she refused to come to the door when Kirby showed up.

In Tuesday's e-mail exchange, we discussed the potential tenant who has my home number. She has called Kirby about 17 times. Apparently she isn't interested in my home in Centerpoint. It isn't "modern" enough for her. I am not sure what she was expecting, given the homes in that area were built in the late 1970s.

She might be interested in the home in Calera, but Kirby is making her fill out an application before he hauls her around anywhere else. So far she hasn't gotten back to him. I won't cry if she doesn't. I don't need her calling me every month throughout the duration of her lease.

Kirby also hit me with this bombshell: he hired another person to do what he does. This person will take half of his load. But, he assured me he kept me as one of his landlords and passed on others to the new person. Personally, I am guessing he did it because he didn't want to scare her on her second week.

Take Your Baggage Elsewhere

My Y'all job has come in handy with dealing with jerks. There is nothing so satisfying as being ultra polite to some jackass who is flying off the handle because he is inconvenienced by having to drive an extra half mile to pick up his truck, only because his desired location still has a collapsed roof after Hurricane Irene.

This particular life skill came in handy on Monday when I sorted through the litany of soon-to-be homeless callers who left articulate messages asking me to call them back. And might I say, this week's crop was much more pleasant.

When I got to Ms. Tyler, I listened to the voice mail one last time before calling her. She was one of the more articulate, but it is always best to make sure I have her name and number correct before dialing the phone (one of the really cool things about Southern etiquette: if I can't catch the last name, I can add "Mr." or "Ms." to a first name and be considered polite--Ms. Patty or Mr. Todd are just as acceptable as Mr. Jones or Ms. Smith).

Now then, back to Ms. Tyler.

I called Ms. Tyler and inquired if the person who answered the phone happened to be her.

She barked, "Yes it is! I don't know who y'all are, but y'all need to stop calling me. Have I made myself clear? Don't call me again."

I replied, "I am terribly sorry to have troubled you. I was under the impression you had called me inquiring about one of my homes for rent."

And as I was hanging up, I heard her yell, "Wait! Don't hang up."

To which, I did anyway.

Today's Tip

If you want to rent a home, please don't send me the following text: "Who es dis?"

She Got It

Mrs. Sherwood caught me a few minutes before my Y'all shift was to start. You see, she wanted to make good on some of the rent she owes. "Are you going to be caught up soon?" I asked with impatience, eyeing the clock to make sure I wasn't going to be late. Y'all is cranky if I am late. And I need the job right now.

"I hope so," she replied with a sigh. "This has been really hard for us." "This" being her husband out of work and having to relocate to a small isolated boarder town in the desert. Then, as an after thought, she said, "I didn't think about it until now, but it was probably pretty hard on you too."

I love Mrs. Sherwood. Have I mentioned that?
I admitted that her paying rent late hadn't been ideal, but Mrs. Sherwood and her situation was special. "There are only a handful of tenants I would extend this courtesy to," I explained.

"How many?" She naively inquired.

"One." And I meant it. The rest of the tenants who took it upon themselves to pay late last month just did it without my blessing. (Are you listening Ms. Shirley and Ms. Kathy???). Though, I might be willing to extend a charitable hand to Ms. Angie if she asks.

As we continued to chat, I asked her if she knew of anyone who wanted to rent a home or four. And then Mrs. Sherwood put it together. "You have four that need to be rented and I paid late?" I could hear it in her voice. She had every idea what August was like for me.

Yes, yes I did.

Mrs. Sherwood told me she would ask around--but only to those she thought I would "be able to stand." In the meantime, she would send a prayer or two my way. Thank you Mrs. Sherwood. I could use a few.

Danielle and Daphny

I really hate tenant screening. And yes, I know I have a property manager for this sort of thing. And let me assure you, with the number of phone calls and e-mails he has gotten this week, he knows that I know he should be doing this. 

I had two interesting phone calls today.

The first came from Danielle. What caught my attention about her was that she had a 602 area code for her phone number (that would be Phoenix, AZ area code, for those who aren't in the know). Danielle was articulate, interesting and pleasant to talk with.

She wanted more information about my Pinson home. However, she isn't moving until Mid-October. That wouldn't work for me. In fact--I am going to go out on a limb here--given the number of calls I am receiving, I am willing to bet Pinson is going to rent in less than two weeks. However, I gave her Kirby's name anyway and told her to call him about my Fultondale home. The Fultondale home isn't on the market just yet.

Heck, I don't even know if the Fultondale tenant is going to leave quietly or not. Hopefully she will. But at any rate, it is better to be proactive, than reactive. So, if she wants it, Godspeed.

I also had a call from Daphny. She was articulate, well spoken and left a lovely message. However, in her voice mail, she didn't tell me which house she was interested in renting. When I called her back, she responded to my introduction by asserting, "I need you to call me back in five minutes. I'll be waiting."

She can wait all she wants. I am moving on.

Random Bama

Kirby is alive! I know this because he responded to Mr. Noble's request to return the keys to the home and carefully cc'd me.

Of course, Mr. Noble is holding my keys hostage until Sept. 14--the day his lease officially ends. No amount of logic, "You no longer live there, why don't you just return them, I am planning on giving your security deposit back to you, let it go already" seems to be working on Mr. Noble.

___________________________________________________________

I got a call today from someone on the Birmingham line inquiring about my homes. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the caller, except my skin prickled and the hairs on my neck went up. During the course of his voice mail he said he was interested in renting any of the homes I have available. Mind you, the homes I have available are about 40 miles from each other. Why isn't he picky?

At any rate, I think I will call him back next week if I am really desperate. My landlord sense is telling me to pass on him.
___________________________________________________________


I'm probably overreacting, but one of the e-mails I received about the home in Centerpoint came from "Sandra." Actually, her name wasn't Sandra, but a derivative of that. And her last name was actually a middle name. Like Sandra Louise. The name was eerily similar to a former tenant of mine who trashed my home a couple of years ago.


I passed the message to Kirby with the following note: I had a tenant with a similar name. If this person also goes by the name "Sandra White," "Louise White," or "Laverne Louise White," don't even bother showing the home.
___________________________________________________________


In the morning I have my monthly Diamondbacks/Oregon Ducks/Harry Potter book club breakfast with my dear Diamond Jim. When we set this up earlier in the week I asked what he thought of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I am glad to hear he liked it and can't wait for the next book I am dutifully bringing him.

Rookie Mistake

I didn't call the litany of inquiries who left coherent, polite messages on my voice mail Tuesday. I realized around 1:45 that I just didn't have time. So, I convinced Marty Sunshine to please, please, please do it for me.

As I was rushing out the door, I was giving last minute orders: "Now, if they are impolite, we aren't renting to them. Don't give them any false hopes. If they are rude now, they will be a nightmare for the next year." And, "No pets. No excuses." And, "If you like them, give them Kirby's number." Marty assured me all of these directives were obvious, as Marty Sunshine has been hearing me do this forever.

Of course, what I forgot to give him was the rental amounts for each home. So, while I was meeting with my client he sweetly called to ask. It worked out well. My client was intrigued enough with whatever B.S. pearls of wisdom I offered Marty, and I manage to score a few points, as my client is a landlord as well.

When I got home, Marty had dutifully gone through the list. He proudly presented me with a paper with copious notes, and in a few cases, frowny faces, depicting people who will not be renting from us. He then threw this bomb at me: he had given a few our home number for folks to call us back at if they had any questions. "Our home number?" I gasped in horror. "Tell me you mean my cell."

Nope, he didn't. Because at that moment, the phone rang and it was one of Marty's favorites calling back. She was lost and needed directions to the house in question? And, while we were at it, when would I be over to show her the home? "You need to call Mr. Kirby." I repeated as patiently as I could muster for the thirtieth time. "He is the one who has the keys."

That didn't seem to convince her nothing could be done, but it got her off my home phone for the time being. And I predict, no matter if she rents or not, I will not have heard the last of her now that she knows how to get in touch with me.

Update: She called again. At 5:30 a.m. this morning. Marty may never hear the end of this.

Don't Mess With a Passive-Aggressive High Strung Type

There was no amount of prodding, affirmations or amaretto that could make me call the 17 people (yes, 17) who left voice messages for me Monday wanting to know about my vacant homes. Of those 17, I have already axed about four, who couldn't follow the simple directive I left on my voice mail:

"If you don't leave your name, I won't call you back. You are renting my home. You play by my rules." Ok, I might have only put the first sentence in my voice mail. The rest is total subtext.

Of the 13 calls I will return later today, most of them were for Ms. Robin's former home. The others were for Mr. Noble's home which isn't technically on the market until next week. There were two calls for the home on Hysteria Lane in Calera. One wanted to know if I would take a section 8 tenant. The other wanted me to hold the home until December 1. No. And, No.

Note to caller who wants to move in December 1: bless your heart. I am calling you back last.

I am sure Kirby is doing some sort of mega-advertising blitz, on my behalf, but I haven't heard word one from him about potential tenants. The advertising did point out something I had wondered: are there renters? Apparently there are. Just not in Calera. Good to know Kirby isn't slacking.

Later this afternoon, (a day where I haven't worked for Y'all and handled real estate in the same day), I will call them all back. I will start with those who I put little stars by their name--the stars telling me they won the "who can leave the most professional message on my voice mail" lottery.

I will then have those callers bombard Kirby's cell phone. I suppose I could have them call the office, but why take a chance he will miss the calls? Just to be sure, I will also send Kirby a list of potential tenants.

Micromanaging? You bet.

Let the Fun Begin

I ran three ads in the Birmingham News on Sunday. Do you know of anyone else anywhere who has their own personal rep at the newspaper?

I have 12 voice mails to listen to and return today. I put a notice on my voice mail that said I would not return any call where the caller did not clearly leave their name.
I hate screening tenants. But I hate empty homes worse.

As Good as it Gets?

I am not in the South. I really don't get the South. But I do know a few things about doing business there. Namely, don't piss off the ones who help you.

Which brings me to this particular dilemma. I have Kirby. Before Kirby, I had a terrible property manager who should not be in business. Thanks to a letter to the Alabama Department of Real Estate, they have been put on notice. 

Before that fiasco of a company, I interviewed several property management companies in Birmingham and hated them all. Simple things--like actually not giving the keys to my vacant home to total strangers prospective tenanats was too much to ask. I understand this is common practice in Birmingham. But it doesn't take a county fair psychic with a Magic 8 ball to figure out how wrong this could go. 

Essentially, Kirby is the best legitimate property manager I have found in Birmingham. I have Carolsue as well, but she isn't licensed, and she also has her own life. So, Kirby it is.

Kirby understands property management. I know what he does all day. He knows I know. His job isn't for the faint of heart. Now that he manages over two hundred and fifty homes with a skeleton staff, he is busy. He once told me another landlord sent an unSouthernlike e-mail to him, suggesting Kirby should actually return a call or an e-mail. Kirby said to me, "I think that was a little uncalled for. He should know I would get back to him."

Though Kirby's lacadaisical behavior doesn't bode well in the rest of society, it seems to be perfectly appropriate in the South.

But I am not in the South.

And I have two vacant homes.

And two others coming vacant.

And a deadbeat in Fultondale.

And a high-strung serious type-A personality (no, that is not redundant).

And a Kirby who can't seem to return an e-mail or a phone call in a timely fashion.

Marty Sunshine and I have been discussing this. Or, more to the point, I am fretting, and making veiled threats to fly out to Birmingham to yell at Kirby and Marty has been nodding and smiling. Most of my property management contracts are coming due and I don't have to renew them. But, I really don't have anyone else to take them over. Those I speak with don't know as much about property management as Kirby does (or, for that matter I know). I don't want a sales guy to sell me his services. I want someone who can handle my homes. And rent them out.

Something else Kirby told me the day we were talking about the other landlord who offended Kirby. He said he always calls me back first. He knows how patient I am and he knows I understand what he does. Kirby said he was confident I understood, beyond a doubt, that Kirby would call me back as soon as time permitted.

I am glad Kirby is confident about that. I am not so sure. I think I would rather have a phone call or two a bit more often instead.

You Didn't Think I Would Forget Did You?

Today is National Bliz Day.

Happy birthday my dear friend. Thank you for all of your sage advice (like yesterday's text for example) and continued friendship. You are a treasured friend and a beautiful woman. I am honored to call you my friend.

Hello, You Must Be Going

Kirby manages my home in Fultondale. The tenant has been there almost a year. This particular tenant has had the same job for 16 years. Her last residence she lived at for several years. When she moved in, Kirby said she seemed reasonable. I checked her friends out on Facebook (yes, I do that) to find them to be somewhat normal, with hobbies in Alabama Football and Jesus--basic standards for all polite society in Birmingham.

From about the second month she moved in, she has had drama of every kind. First it was a major car accident that landed her in the hospital. Rent was late, but paid up after Christmas. Kirby even went to her hospital room to check up on her. And to collect the rent check.

Then there was the tornadoes that swept through Birmingham last April. Fultondale was devastated. Except my home. My home was fine. However, she paid late because she said she didn't have any power and had to stay in a hotel for a week. From what I heard power was only out for 24 hours in her section of Fultondale.

She paid late in May because her brother died and she had to pay for his funeral. I have several issues with that one. The two biggest being that the funeral for her brother was pretty cheap because my rent isn't very high. And the second being that I have had two tenants use this one on me before. When I mentioned that to Kirby, he chuckled, he has heard it before too.

She paid late in June, and probably the only reason she came up with the rent money was that Kirby drove over to her home and showed up with a notice to vacate.

She paid late in July.

She hasn't paid for August. When I found out she was late again, I told Kirby to let her know one of two things: either her rent when her lease is up is doubling, giving her reason to move, or just let her know I am not renewing. I don't want her money.

Kirby took option number two. He has started the eviction process once again, letting her know if she goes quietly I will refund her deposit (less any fees--like rent and late fees owed). And, if she goes quickly and quietly, I will not garnish her wages. By the way, I am guessing I won't see August's rent.

Life it too short to deal with crummy tenants. I have a property manager so I don't have to deal with this nonsense. As far as I am concerned, once a tenant who is in property management becomes my problem, I might as well just have them leave. It is defeating the purpose.

Washed Out

Mitch and Tonya are buying a home. I know this because I am their agent. The home they are buying came with a ready-made tenant--which is pretty cool because I don't really want to put the time and effort into helping them find a tenant for a home 45 minutes away from me. But for these folks, I would.

Cassie, the ready-made-tenant, has been living in this home for five years. She has a six-year-old son. The home was originally purchased by Cassie's sister, allowing Cassie a place to live. Now that Cassie's sister is dumping the house, it was Mitch and Tonya's for the taking. 

When my clients first put an offer in on the home, we were told by the selling agent the washer, dryer and refrigerator belonged to the tenant and were not part of the deal. No problem.  My clients would either get their own or let any future tenant put them in.

Last week, three weeks before closing I sent Cassie the lease. Mitch and Tonya had made a special trip to Arizona in July to see the home, meet Cassie, find her utterly charming and then offer her a reduced (less than market) rent. Their thinking was if Cassie wanted to stay, she was taking fantastic care of the home, it would be tons easier to take $100 a month less than have her move out, have a vacant home and go through the process of finding a new tenant.

After I sent Cassie the lease, she in turn sent me an e-mail. The selling agent was wrong. The appliances weren't hers. Would Mitch and Tonya be willing to buy them from the owner (her sister) for some outrageous amount of money?

No. No they wouldn't.

Cassie tried another approach: she said she would be willing to buy them from her sister, but because money would now be tight, she wanted to know if she could get a lower rent amount to compensate for not having appliances. And oh! By the way, she wants to stay for years and years. And she has the lease all signed and ready to go. She'll send it in once she hears from me about the appliances. Just let her know what Mitch and Tonya decide. Ok?

The outrageous amount of money aside, Mitch and Tonya know nothing about the condition of these particular appliances. They have no desire to take on this liability. And besides, nobody is certain that Cassie doesn't really own the washer, dryer and refrigerator already and is trying to make a few extra dollars by saying they aren't hers. Not that I am suggesting Cassie is a thief, but the first month's rent and security deposits happen to equal exactly the amount Cassie says her "sister" wants for the appliances.

Here I am, trying to negotiate this. The other agent wants nothing to do with Cassie and the rental end (she didn't even know how to write up a purchase contract for a home with an existing tenant in place). So, I am handling the lease. And the ensuing drama. And Cassie. And my clients who read Cassie's note as a veiled threat.And, with a few years of landlord experience under my belt, that is exactly how I took it too.

I looked at the situation like this: the way it stood, there was going to be bad blood on one side of the other. Either Cassie was going to feel like she had been wronged because she was out the appliance money. Or if Mitch and Tonya gave in they were not going to be so willing to do additional favors down the road for Cassie. After talking to Mich and Tonya at some length, they did the only sane thing. They withdrew the lease.

Cassie, realizing she would be homeless in two weeks and she was not going to find anything as nice as where she lived now for the amount of money she would be paying, came rushing back. You know, she probably could work something out with her sister. Golly gosh! She certainly didn't mean her e-mail to sound like a threat. And she would be happy to sign the lease today. Wow! Cassie certainly hoped Mitch and Tonya didn't think she was the type of person who would threaten to hold a lease over their heads to get a washer, dryer and refrigerator. That is not what she was saying. Uh-huh. Never.

I now have the lease. I will be getting the rent and security deposit next week. The house closes at the end of the month. If all goes well, everyone will be happy. But I suspect Cassie wont be granted any favors any time soon.

Book Club with Diamond Jim

I met with Diamond Jim for our monthly Harry Potter book club. After asking me how I am handling Attorney Jon's death, and me giving him the only insight I had, as well as explaining that was two death's ago, bringing the grand total of people in my life who have passed on in the last four weeks to three, we moved on to other topics.

Of course, we also had to cover the state of the Diamondbacks (first place--thankyouverymuch) and how they have a better record than the Saint Louis Cardinals. Then we transitioned into college football and Dear Jim's Oregon Ducks. (for the record, I don't follow the Ducks any more than I follow the Crimson Tide, but please don't tell anyone). And finally ended at the Midway Museum in San Diego before settling down to the topic at hand. Incidentally, I simply must figure out a way to see the Midway Museum now.

When we got around to Harry, Ron and Hermonine, Jim told me where he is in The Goblet of Fire. Much to his relief, I brought him the next in the series, Order of the Phoenix, promising him it was my favorite. He was glad to have it, for fear he would have to wait a day or two and not be able to pick it right up after he finished book four. (You can imagine how the rest of us felt waiting for J. K. Rowling to finish writing each book).

He did tell me how he muddled through Prisoner of Azkaban with about the same level of reverence I have for tax season. Not that I disagree. Book three was my least favorite too. I did explain to him that it was necessary, as the stories expand upon each other. I also gave him a spoiler. There is a death in book four.

Of course there is a death in book five too.

And book six.

And about a dozen or more deaths in book seven.

Diamond Jim took it well, though he did comment The Goblet of Fire seems more "adult." Yep. Harry isn't a little kid any more.

Introspective

I've been down of late. There is not enough room in this patch of cyber-space to go into all of the stuff happening in my personal life. Let me sum it up: working too much. People dying.

What hasn't been happening is me paying enough attention to my accidental business. In fact, though I loathe to admit this, I have been doing the "what if" scenario. What if we let everything go?

Freedom

Sanity

The fact of the matter is, there is no reason to give up. I've made it this far. Things are tricky right now. Kirby isn't renting out my homes fast enough. I have one vacant and two coming vacant (got notice on another tenant yesterday) and a third, my tenant in Fultondale, being asked to leave by Kirby. I have two others with short-term personal problems that have become mine--though I didn't ask for them. If I think about everything too long, it gets to me and I start letting the "what if" scenarios creep in.

One of my daily preachings to my children is never to give up. Ever. Fight till the end. How ironic I have forgotten to follow my own advice.

A Special Day

Just wanted to give a shout to a special friend. Today is Busy Mommy's last chemo!

Denial

When Polly was about four, she asked me exactly how babies get out of mothers' tummies. When I finished the technical explanation, she just looked at me and with all seriousness and innocence and said, "But you barfed up me and Buckaroo, right?"

Who says you are too young for denial? Or, for that matter too old.

Marty Sunshine sent Mr. Partner an update on all things Alabama this week. He did it because I have spent more time on this blog of late than I have dealing with anything East of the Mississippi. And, it was time Mr. Partner knew we have a vacant home and a soon to be vacant home.

And then there is the Mrs. Sherwood issue...

And Ms. Angie has a itsy bitsy problem too that became my problem recently. But, more on that when I get around to part-time blogging again.

In this case, Mr. Partner took in all of Marty's e-mail and replied, "Sounds like we are still in the RED and not breaking even."

What a relief! I am so glad we finally got that out of the way. I was worried he wasn't catching on.

Unfinished Business

Note: In the event you find this post offensive, my apologies. I don't wish to dishonor Jon's memory or the mourning process--he truly was a wonderful man. However, as this blog is the day in the life of running an accidental business, this is part of a day in the life. It isn't fun and I seriously wish I wasn't doing these tasks. But, this is what I am up to.

I've lost two special people in the last three weeks through untimely, senseless deaths. Both ripped me up. Death is a natural process, but sometimes through unnatural means. And yet, we the living are left to sort out and find meaning for what is left. Even if there is no meaning.

I had breakfast with Diamond Jim on Thursday. Our usual Harry Potter book club and Diamondbacks discussion was marred with my questions: what do I do now? I have unfinished business. And, in this case, I mean just that--business. Attorney Jon was supposed to handle two things for me that I am not sure he did.

And, given Attorney Jon was a one-man show, I don't know where to proceed. What do I do? And exactly what is the etiquette here? When can I ask Legal Eagle to take care of these things? I can't wait too long, because someone is going to go through his office. I need her find what Attorney Jon didn't do before someone comes along and my paperwork is lost in the shuffle.

And for that matter, how do I find the paperwork? Attorney Jon had the originals. He also had a wonderful paralegal. Will she go through his papers? How do I get in touch with her? And precisely when is the appropriate time to try to leave a message for her? After all, technically she doesn't have a job any more.

Worse than that, Legal Eagle and Attorney Jon were friends. So I have to burden her with the added work when she is grieving. It seems heartless.

All of it.

Jon

I spoke with Legal Eagle briefly yesterday. Through our tears, we talked about how much we loved Jon. Everyone loved attorney Jon. I wish you all could have met him. He truly was a shining star, far above the others. He was a man of great character. He once told me his father told him to always shop at businesses that display the American flag. He said, "Those are businesses who understand we are in the land of opportunity." I am blessed to have known him.

This was in the Birmingham News today.

Horrible News

Some days just totally suck. Today is one of them.

My dear Attorney Jon passed away yesterday. He left behind a wife and five daughters.
Rest in His peace Jon.

A Small Price to Pay

So, Katie and Cole are looking to purchase a rental home. Luckily for them, they have found one. And, as luck would have it, there is a ready-made tenant in place.

Tammy and her seven year old son have lived in this home (under another landlord) for six years. They pay the rent on time. They take care of the home. The son goes to school just five minutes away. Grandma and Grandpa live around the corner and have watched the son since birth.

Currently Tammy is paying $800 a month. Truly a steal. This house could rent for much more. Tammy has told me she can swing $900.

Katie and Cole are buying this home for cash. Their monthly outlay (with home owners' association dues, taxes and insurance) is under $200. They want $950 a month. What did I think?

I think we are talking about $50 a month, or $600 for a year. What I explained to Katie and Cole was just that. What were they getting for a "loss" of $600? They have a tenant who hasn't moved in six years. Tammy takes great care of the home. She has put down roots and is truly happy where she is.

Meanwhile, Katie and Cole don't have a vacant home from the time Tammy moves out until a new tenant is found. They don't have to screen prospective tenants. They don't have to take a chance on a new tenant who might not be so kind. Katie and Cole don't have to pay for general maintenance and clean up when Tammy moves out. And, I assure you, the repair for the television Tammy currently has mounted to the living room wall will cost a good portion of the $600 they are "saving."

Conversely, what if Katie and Cole just came right out and asked for the additional $50 a month? Tammy might just pay it. But what if Tammy isn't stretching the truth?

I am convinced more drama takes place over a tenant living outside their budget than necessary. The tenant wants to stay. The tenant (normally) doesn't want to disappoint. The additional money troubles more often than not become the landlord's burden. And trust me, landlord's don't want to deal with a tenant's burden.

In this case, I happen to believe Tammy. I met her on Sunday. She and I were discussing baseball and she casually mentioned she cut her cable cut off because it wasn't in her budget. I saw the coupons sitting around the counter. Though we didn't talk outright about her rental situation, the conversation turned to the economy and her current state of affairs.

Tammy isn't a victim. She is trying to make it. She doesn't want to uproot her son. When Katie and Cole met her Sunday as well, they saw the same thing and they saw my point: $50 a month is a small price to pay to have a stable, long-term tenant.

Dream A Little Dream With Me

This is where I want to be right now.

 
This island is on the Gulf side of Flordia. You can only get there by boat or by plane. The beaches are pure white. The water is blue--not mucky ocean water. But blue.
 
There are no cars on the island--except the fire department. They have two trucks. And a boat.
 
Marty Sunshine's uncle lives here. Uncle Sunshine is the greatest human being in the world. Being around him inspires me.
 
 

I really want to go on vacation this year.

 

Really.

 

Really.

 

Really.

 

 

I would even suffer through seeing the over-stuffed commericalized mouse in Orlando just to go here.

 

 

This week I paid all of the home owners' insurances for our accidental business on my credit card. The LLCs have reimbursed me. Why? My credit card gives me frequent flyer miles for my (hopefully) vacation. 

 

I'm crossing my fingers and toes for a Decmeber vacation.

Surprise

So, it appears Ms. Robin is moving out. This comes as no surprise to me. She has been struggling to make the rent for the past year. Last week she came to this astounding revelation and took the time to share it with me on Thursday.

The funny thing was she would have come to the astounding revelation with or without my help. She was getting served by Carolsue on Monday--only because I figured it would take me until Sunday to catch up enough to make it happen.

There was a time when this was a no-brainier.  I (with Carolsue's help) get it rented, deal with tenant screening drama and a new person to write about would emerge. Not this time.

This time, I am letting Kirby handle it. There is still drama, but I don't have to be in the front lines. I don't have to answer the calls from the throngs of Birmingham's soon-to-be homeless wondering if I will accept king cobras, space aliens and Dodger's fans (no, yes as long as they have a job and NO WAY).

That is of course, if Kirby will take this home--because he still has yet to call me back. But no matter. I will probably loose track in a day or so, and by the time I get around to fretting that I haven't heard from him, he will be on my phone. Kirby's good that way. And I will be the one suprised.

Silliness

"That's silly," was the response from Bliz, when I told her what I had to do to avoid spending $11.95 per month in fees for one of our bank accounts. And, yes, the end result was silly.

You see, my bank has started charging business accounts this fee if they don't keep a minimum balance or pay three bills out of the account every month. For my other business accounts, it isn't a problem. For the account for the LLC we have with Jack, it is not going to happen. We have one house. We pay one mortgage every month (when the AC goes out or there is a minor snake infestation maybe another bill or two). That's the extent of it.

When I told Marty Sunshine of this, he said a lot of non-sunshiney type things and threatened to close shop at this bank. However, this bank has two things going for it. One: it has locations in Alabama and Arizona. And two: it has lower fees than other banks with locations in both places (are you listening Well's Fargo and Bank of America???).

My favorite bank manager, Jenny, who is now on her third branch since we met, helped me out by opening up a personal checking account. This simple little change should eliminate these fees.

Of course, I won't get all the additional business perks like.... um.... oh yea! like free cashier's checks (which I have never used). I will also have the added benefit of trying to explain to Jack--who is a signer on the old account--that he can be a signer on the new account by jumping through an amazing number of hoops.

Hopefully he won't think the whole thing is very silly.

And as a public service announcement:

I would like to point out if you are looking to rent a moving truck, and you opt to be totally nasty to the moving truck employee on the phone--who, by the way, is holding your entire future in your hands--you might end up being transferred to the wrong number or to a location where the employee is totally aware that particlar location is closed for the day.

The only reason you are transferred to one of the above locations, dear nasty customer who wants a moving truck and decides to call the employee trying to help you a "half-wit minimum wage grunt" is because the phone line at the location in the far reaches of hell is busy. I'm just saying...

Not that I would do something so unprofessional. But there are others who might.

Random Bama

The Y'all job is keeping me hopping. I enjoy having money coming in. I am not appreciating the lack of consistency in the hours. I was finally getting used to 6 *(@!*& a.m., when they changed the schedule and gave me afternoons. Except Friday and Saturday this week where I have both.

But, the afternoon schedule will hopefully give me some time to handle some of the real estate items I have on the front burner.

Just for the record, the best way to avoid this particular lifestyle is not to buy homes on credit.
___________________________________________________________________

It appears Kirby is asking my tenant on Fultondale to leave. At least that was the game plan as of last week. I do recall a time when I was frustrated Kirby wouldn't contact me on a regular basis. Now he waits for me.

But, back to the tenant in Fultondale. Allegedly she paid May's rent. However, because she was peripherally affected by the devastating tornadoes in April, she asked us to hold May's rent (she couldn't get to her home for several days because of downed trees and power lines as well as debris peppering the main drag of Fultondale. She said she had to stay in a hotel).

June's rent hasn't materialized and for whatever reason Kirby doesn't think the May check is good. So, he is bribing asking her to leave. He is going to offer her $200 if she just goes and cleans up on her way out the door.

Hopefully this will be resolved soon.
___________________________________________________________________


Mrs. Sherwood called me last week. Her dilemma? Mr. Sherwood got a good in Yuma, Arizona. Did I know anything about the place? Well, yes I do. But Yuma is affectionately referred to as an armpit--though I think that is probably an insult to armpits everywhere.

Mrs. Sherwood will not be joining Mr. Sherwood until she finishes three more semesters of nursing school. But she was curious about rents. Mr. Sherwood was told he could find a modest one bedroom apartment for the $1800 a month range. Did that sound reasonable?

As a matter of fact, it did not. I suspect she might be able to find a mansion in Yuma for less than that. I need her to be able to afford my rent along with the Yuma rent, so I offered to do some checking. I hate to loose Mrs. Sherwood.  Perhaps Yuma won't be real popular with Mr. Sherwood either.

The Main Thing

A long time ago when I worked for an itty-bitty pet food megastore chain (which has since become a gargantuan pet food megastore chain), one of the VPs had a sign up in his cubicle:

The Main Thing is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing

Now then, I'll be happy to wait right here while you process that. Take your time.

Ok now, this particular ditty applies to all walks of life. Including being a landlord. If I had to pick the main thing for being a landlord it would simply be: pick the right tenant.

I know, easier said than done. But I have to tell you from my own experiences, my life is infinitely easier when I have picked the right tenants.

And of course, sadly the converse is true too. Pick a crummy tenant; start blogging.

Good tenants aren't always the ones with the best credit or the highest income--although that does weigh heavily in my decisions. But really, the best tenants are the ones with the best character.

Character means the person on the the application in front of me looks an awful lot like the person I am speaking with on the phone. Character means everyone understands this is a business relationship, and the person renting my home is aware they must do their part to make this business relationship work (pay on time+keep the grass cut=don't get evicted).

Everyone has personal issues. But being accountable for the stuff life throws your way goes a long way in my book. Someone with a history of doing such, will probably continue acting the same way once they move in too.

Just Blowing Hot Air

I have been paying more attention to this blog of late than I have been to the properties in Alabama (and if you are still with me, you know how often of late I am updating). That is, until Wednesday.

Coincidentally, Wednesday I called in sick to my wonderful job (a company that sounds a lot like "y'all"). But, I am wondering exactly how life would have gone if I hadn't. Wednesday, the new tenant for the home Jack and I own started out our day by e-mailing me at 5 a.m. to tell me the air conditioning didn't work. And, not to worry. He had someone coming out right then and there. The company he sent out told me I need a new unit and they would be happy to oblige.

The new tenant now knows not to call AC companies without consulting me first.

Speaking of AC companies, I got a nice message at 6 a.m. from Glenda from the Most Awesomist AC Company in Birmingham (I believe Mr. and Mr. Awesomist now own a beach house on some remote island thanks to me and my rentals). You see, Ms. Angie has been having AC problems and Awesomist AC has been going out to take care of them. This is strange because the AC is three years old. The first time it was a part under warranty. The second time it was low on freon. The third time it was low on freon again.

It turns out one of the neighbor kids has been huffing freon from Ms. Angie's AC unit. I am not amused. Ms. Angie is not amused. "What is wrong with kids these days?! Whatever happened to just using White Out?" I asked, before I could catch myself.

Ms. Angie, the perfect tenant, came forward with her own solutions. She asked if I minded if she got a dog or a gun to keep the neighbor kids out of the back yard. Did I have a preference? I actually preferred a padlock. Cheaper, less mess and less liability for me in the long run. Hopefully she will pick option three.

Hmm... Maybe I Really Did Win The Alabama Lottery?

Let me back up a bit. A long time ago, I got a call from a woman who did not leave a name or phone number. The call came from an unidentified number, so there was absolutely no way to get back in touch with this woman even if I wanted to. The woman in question told me she was a lawyer and to call her back immediately or her "client" was suing me.

Once in a while I have also gotten phone calls from a variety of attorneys in the past. Generally the calls go like this, "Hello Mrs. Landlord, this is Prunella Jean McGillacutty, I am legal counsel for Mr. and Mrs. Jedidiah Wronged, I would like to discuss with you the impending situation and how we can come to a peaceful resolution. I would also be happy to discuss with Attorney Jon--your attorney of record--if you are unavailable or would prefer. I can be reached at...." (As a quick disclaimer, I have never been sued, nor do I do things to get me sued--but that doesn't stop those with a sense of entitlement from trying).

As you can see there is a big difference in quantity and quality of information. The first caller used words like "lawyer" and wanted to sue. The second one used words like "counsel" and "attorney." The second caller wanted solutions.

So then, fast forward to this past week. Though this could be about anything, because all his been eerily silent with Haroldine of late, I jumped to some conclusions. I got an unusual phone message from a 205 area code. It was a fast-talking, southern drawled woman who said, "Hello Landlord. My name is Roberta Rooster. You need to call me back." She didn't leave a number; she didn't give a reason.

Of course, I have her number from caller ID, but I don't have a compelling desire to run up my cell minutes talking to a stranger who couldn't be bothered to even give me a reason to call back. What I did find very interesting about Roberta's call was that I was given the option to reply via my voice mail--suggesting she had called me on a cell. Do attorneys call on cell phones at 2 in the afternoon?

Anyway, I decided to sleep on this latest crazy phone call and then I opted to do nothing. If this woman is a lawyer representing Haroldine, there is no case--Haroldine wasn't my tenant.

If she is an attorney representing Harold, I have a bigger issue--but the law is on my side. However, I would have to haul myself to Birmingham and spend more money than necessary to prove I am right--which I am.

I have no idea who this woman is and the reason she called. For all I know, she could be calling to tell me I won the Alabama lottery. However, I really don't feel like finding out. But more to the point, her phone was a catalyst to take care of something weighing on me. I sent Harold an accounting of everything paid in. I should have done it weeks ago. It was a pretty letter, with big, multi-syllable words with a twist of professional bitchy thrown in.

I should have sent it out weeks ago, once it appeared Haroldine was "confused" where Harold's deposit might have wandered off to. I made it very clear this time, there was no room for confusion.

I explained because they were late, they opted to move out instead of being evicted and because they left the place clean, I would not legally go after the remaining owed rent in form of a garnishment of Harold's wages. And no, they aren't getting their security deposit back, no matter how many names they call me.

Of course, when they were living there, I didn't use words like "eviction" and "garnishment." I merely suggested moving out because they couldn't afford to stay. That was cheaper (so far) and a lot less messy than an eviction. But the meaning then and now is the same.

Harold should be getting the copies of the letter via certified and regular mail early this week. I would like to believe the matter is now closed, but I am guessing Haroldine will be calling (or her friend Roberta) sometime soon.

Musical Homes

Might you step back in the wayback machine to last year. I had my tenant on Hysteria Lane move out. I only found this out because a neighbor managed to hunt me down and bawl me out for my poor choice of renters. The reason this was news to me is the tenant continued to pay rent, long after she left.

Once Kirby tracked her down, through my begging directive, Kirby offered to let her out of her lease if she would just go. But, she didn't want to. She essentially paid a lot of money to store a few belongings in an empty home (and pay the utilities and keep up the yard). Truly a storage locker would have been significantly cheaper. But in the end, she held up her end of the bargain.

Fast forward to October of last year. Her lease was about up. I was getting my home back. I was happy to have that chapter close, knowing I would get a new tenant eventually who would actually live in the home. And that's when  the tenant in question came back and asked to move back into this home. Pretty please.

My only concession was I wasn't willing to give her a year lease. I wanted her lease up in the summer so I would have a better selection of potential tenants to choose from. She obliged.

Coming as no surprise to Kirby or I, the tenant on Hysteria Lane gave her notice this week. She's moving out at the end of June. I am a bit sorry to see her leave. She pays on time and from what I have been told, maintains the property.

Though I have to tell you the neighbors next door don't seem to like her and her evil ways. Did you know she homeschools? How awful! What that woman is doing to her children! Can you believe it?! Yes, the tenant who hunted me down last year gave me an earful on that one too.

In an odd turn of events, I have a new renter for this home. My tenant who lives at my Waterford home would like to rent it. He is ready, willing and able to switch over as soon as it comes available. This is great news, as the one on Hysteria Lane costs slightly more. However, the home in Waterford is harder to rent.

My only requests to Kirby about the whole thing were to please make sure at least one (but preferably both) clean up on their way out. I don't need to spring for two cleanings. Also, allow us to show the Waterford home while they are moving. And, more to the point, have the soon-to-be-ex-Waterford-tenant sign a new lease, ending in the summer. I think this is going to be something I insist upon in the future. I don't want leases ending in November.

An Ego Boost

But first: a shout out to our dear Busy Mommy. She is half way through her chemo and kicking cancer's butt. Stay strong and keep the faith my friend.

I did Ms. Shirley a favor recently. I let her pay late when she announced she was paying late. And, thanks to my alternative work schedule, at the time she told me I was too dull-witted to give her any grief.

Tuesday I received a text from her. I have no idea what prompted it and I am not going to read too much into it or wonder if she accidentally sent it to me instead of the local postal worker. It was a very sweet message and completely out of the blue. Simply, she wrote me and thanked me for my kindness.

Welcome to my alternative universe.