Farewell to a Dear Friend

I had breakfast with Diamond Jim today. Actually Polly, Buckaroo and I met Diamond Jim for breakfast.

I didn't know it last night, but Buckaroo went to bed fully dressed, including his sneakers and got up at 5:30 a.m. announcing he was joining me. Ten minutes later, Polly flounced downstairs (Polly always flounces) and seemed shocked I was not as receptive to the idea as they expected me to be. But no matter, Diamond Jim isn't my own personal accounting buddy. He belongs to the world. So, the kids came too.

Our breakfast was as normal as they all tend to be. If one were to replay all of our breakfasts over the years, this one would be about average. We discussed baseball (Boo Dodgers!). We discussed books. Sigh... We are just going to have to agree to disagree on The Catcher in the Rye--unless somewhere there is a better version written, perhaps about baseball catchers. That book would be much better.

We discussed children, mine and his grandsons, Timmy and Ricky. For that matter we talked about his son and daughter too. But they are my age. He shared a story about flying here one February in the 1980s from sub-zero weather on a propeller plane. All the while I just kept wondering if there was something else we could talk about to keep the conversation going just a little bit longer.

This is Diamond Jim's last tax hurrah. He is boarding a plane in a couple of days and heading to some remote town in Eastern Oregon to retire with Mrs. Diamond Jim. I knew this day was coming, but even so, I was not fully is prepared. I am not sure if he was conscience it was our last breakfast. If he was, he didn't let on.

I know Diamond Jim would probably still do my taxes if I asked. But, he has been a CPA for more than 40 years. He has earned his retirement. In that respect, seems like a bigger kindness to just let him go. 

I noticed when he hugged me and kids at the end of our visit he didn't say good bye. Neither did I. I hope someday I will get a chance to see him again. Maybe before that I will even pick up The Catcher in the Rye and see if it gets any better so I can tell him how much I love the book.

Sit, Roll Over, Stop Calling

I have dear friends who now live in another state and rent out their home here. I have written about them before. Recently, their tenants bailed, leaving them in sudden need of new renters. They have contracted me in my professional capacity to help them find a qualified tenant for their home.

And I am banging my head.

As we all know, there is nothing more desperate in this world than a landlord with a vacant home. The second-most desperate person on Earth is the one who is contracted to find a viable tenant for the landlord. This isn't just a client, it is a friend in need. I don't mind helping them out. I just mind disappointing them or finding the wrong tenants. And in all fairness, they read this blog.

For the past week, I have gotten calls that remind me clearly of why I have Kirby and Mario. The people calling--who really should be making an effort to provide a good first impression--lack basic telephone etiquette. For example, when is it acceptable to leave a message for someone inquiring about anything and not leave one's name? 

When I got these kinds of calls for my own properties, I wouldn't call back out of general principal. If a person is that obnoxious when they want something from me--a chance to view their potential future home--what kind of fresh hell will I be living with if I agree to rent to them? (And in case you want to know, feel free to dig through the annals of this blog.) In this case, I don't have the luxury of ignoring these people. It isn't my decision to make. So, I am calling them back and offering them a second chance to prove they were raised right. However, I am not getting very far. I am getting questions asking such things including how many bedrooms does this home have (it is in the ad they called about), what is the rent (ditto) and is there a pool (yes. THERE IS A PICTURE OF IT IN THE AD)?

My clients have a lovely home. They aren't accepting pets. Frankly, I don't blame them. When I speak to potential tenants I am very careful to explain the owners are not accepting pets. It is also clearly stated in my ad and on MLS. One man actually said to me--and I am not making this up--"But it is a small golden retriever." It really doesn't matter if it is or not, it is still a dog.

Another man said to me that each roommate had a dog and they (the pets) all "got along." For grins, I inquired how many roommates we were talking about here and he said there were six men and nine dogs. 

The home is in a great area and I suspect it will attract a quality family. Hopefully fairly soon. In the mean-time I am saying a prayer all these people with pets stop calling.

She's Alive

Ms. Angie is a dear, dear tenant. And yes, she did get back in touch with me at 5 a.m. Saturday morning. She sent me a text with a wild story that involves the town of Leeds and a guy named, "Your Honor". She also told me on the way home from her unpleasant experience she had a blowout on the interstate.

To Ms. Angie's credit, she has not regaled me with these kinds of antics in the four years she has been my tenant. Which is why I believe her.

However, the subtext is that rent isn't happening. She didn't exactly say this, but that was seriously implied. I haven't written her back just yet. I may wait the weekend and see if she comes up with a solution all on her own. That would be best.

Here's my thoughts: she is a great tenant. She takes care of the house. Even before Kirby's property management cut, I will never (ever) get what I am getting for rent from anyone else if I kick her out. It doesn't make sense to start the move-out process over this. Hopefully Ms. Angie will find a solution so she and I don't have to go meet another guy named Your Honor.