Oh... there is never a dull moment in Landlord Land. Today was no exception.
Luigi's assistant, Ms. Amy, called me today. You see, she has the perfect potential tenants who are ready to rent my home. And please, oh please! Would I approve them and their demand for an eight month lease? And just so I knew, they originally wanted a six month lease but Ms. Amy told her up front I would not accept anything less than an eight month lease--so at least that was taken care of. And what did I think?
When I asked why a short term lease, Ms. Amy told me the potential tenants in question are building a home and the builder told them the home would be ready in six months. "So basically they would be moving out in six months no matter what the lease term was?" I asked. "And, they wouldn't care if there was a hit on their credit for skipping on their lease because at that point, they would owe their home and they have nothing to loose?"
Ms. Amy was silent for a moment or two before she replied, "I hadn't thought of that." And then, as if she had completely missed the gist of my comment she said, "Maybe I could ask them to sign a one year lease instead."
"Won't they still be moving in six months either way?" I asked. And again Ms. Amy was at a loss for words.
With all due respect to Ms. Amy, I will pass.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Sunday, April 13, 2014
The Daisy Chronicles--The Last Straw
For you three long-time readers, you may remember Baseball Guy. I don't write much about him. Baseball Guy is a tenant from years gone by. For a while he lived in Ms. Angie's home--long before Ms. Angie lived there.
He happens to be related to Carolsue, which would chalk him up higher in my esteem if I didn't already think the world of him. Baseball Guy is former military, he has done a plethora of odd jobs for me over the past ten years and he likes baseball. He is dearly protective of me and posts some funny things on Facebook. What's not to love?
In the beginning of January, Baseball Guy got wind that I had a vacant home in Centerpoint. This particular home had been vacant for a very long time, and in all fairness I had turned down two Section 8 tenants in the months' past who appeared on paper to be train wrecks and would have probably caused me carpal tunnel syndrome blogging about their shenanigans. However, the house in question was perfect for Baseball Guy. And right after New Year's he asked me if I would rent to him. I didn't blink and immediately gave Daisy a call, filled her in on Baseball Guy's awesomeness and directed her to contact him immediately.
Now before I go on, let's make sure you and I are on the same page. If you are a property manager and one of your best landlords tells you, "Rent this house to my former tenant and friend," you might want to be very careful what you do, lest it gets back to your best landlord. At least that's how I think. But apparently not everyone agrees. But then again, "Everyone" isn't employed any more either.
Though Daisy knew she was to coordinate with Baseball Guy, she managed to blow this in epic proportions. Many things happened that are too numerous to write about in this segment of cyber space. However, Daisy utterly ignored my directive and then brushed off Baseball Guy. Twice. I am not sure how she thought I wouldn't hear about it. After some frantic nudging from me, she managed to finally meet him and get his security deposit. However, even as I write this, Baseball Guy's cash security deposit he gave to Daisy never made it back to Luigi's broker's account (Luigi has since eaten this).
Fast forwarding through three weeks of drama... February 1, Baseball Guy contacted me at some insane hour. He had moved in the Friday before. However, the house was dirty, the stove didn't work, and he wasn't able to turn on the water because he didn't have a lease. Stoves can be fixed. Homes can be cleaned. But he didn't have a lease!? This was news to me. Daisy gave him keys but didn't give him legal rights to the home. I am still having trouble processing that one.
For those of you who aren't outraged by this last statement, let me please explain: If this was anyone other than Baseball Guy, once the tenants are in the door, moved in and hanging up the "Home Sweet Home" sign, they may not feel so inclined to sign that lease. And THERE WOULD BE NOTHING I COULD DO ABOUT IT UNTIL I WENT IN FRONT OF A JUDGE TRYING TO PROVE I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS ARRANGEMENT.
When I am truly angry, it is best to give me space. Once I confirmed with Daisy that she really did indeed do something so heinous, I needed that space. And sadly, Daisy did not give it to me. She kept calling. And texting. And e-mailing. Her excuse was, she was "too busy to give him an actual lease" (but could give him house keys?). My answer was simply, when I am busy I find someone else in my office to handle these things for me. That's why, just like her, I work with other people who do what I do. Or, if that solution isn't possible, I don't let the tenant move in. Even Baseball Guy.
By the time I got Luigi involved, I was beside myself. Personally, I don't know if this is the final straw that got Daisy fired. I suspect she had dug her grave with Luigi and this was just more fuel. But I for one was calling for her head.
Carolsue once told me never to trust anyone from Louisiana. Daisy is from Louisiana. She is the second person I have met from there and her behavior was just like the other Cajun. When Luigi and I were clearing things up in February, figuring out what was what, and working on moving forward, I flat-out asked him if he was from Louisiana. He may have thought it was a random question, but I now know better.
He happens to be related to Carolsue, which would chalk him up higher in my esteem if I didn't already think the world of him. Baseball Guy is former military, he has done a plethora of odd jobs for me over the past ten years and he likes baseball. He is dearly protective of me and posts some funny things on Facebook. What's not to love?
In the beginning of January, Baseball Guy got wind that I had a vacant home in Centerpoint. This particular home had been vacant for a very long time, and in all fairness I had turned down two Section 8 tenants in the months' past who appeared on paper to be train wrecks and would have probably caused me carpal tunnel syndrome blogging about their shenanigans. However, the house in question was perfect for Baseball Guy. And right after New Year's he asked me if I would rent to him. I didn't blink and immediately gave Daisy a call, filled her in on Baseball Guy's awesomeness and directed her to contact him immediately.
Now before I go on, let's make sure you and I are on the same page. If you are a property manager and one of your best landlords tells you, "Rent this house to my former tenant and friend," you might want to be very careful what you do, lest it gets back to your best landlord. At least that's how I think. But apparently not everyone agrees. But then again, "Everyone" isn't employed any more either.
Though Daisy knew she was to coordinate with Baseball Guy, she managed to blow this in epic proportions. Many things happened that are too numerous to write about in this segment of cyber space. However, Daisy utterly ignored my directive and then brushed off Baseball Guy. Twice. I am not sure how she thought I wouldn't hear about it. After some frantic nudging from me, she managed to finally meet him and get his security deposit. However, even as I write this, Baseball Guy's cash security deposit he gave to Daisy never made it back to Luigi's broker's account (Luigi has since eaten this).
Fast forwarding through three weeks of drama... February 1, Baseball Guy contacted me at some insane hour. He had moved in the Friday before. However, the house was dirty, the stove didn't work, and he wasn't able to turn on the water because he didn't have a lease. Stoves can be fixed. Homes can be cleaned. But he didn't have a lease!? This was news to me. Daisy gave him keys but didn't give him legal rights to the home. I am still having trouble processing that one.
For those of you who aren't outraged by this last statement, let me please explain: If this was anyone other than Baseball Guy, once the tenants are in the door, moved in and hanging up the "Home Sweet Home" sign, they may not feel so inclined to sign that lease. And THERE WOULD BE NOTHING I COULD DO ABOUT IT UNTIL I WENT IN FRONT OF A JUDGE TRYING TO PROVE I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS ARRANGEMENT.
When I am truly angry, it is best to give me space. Once I confirmed with Daisy that she really did indeed do something so heinous, I needed that space. And sadly, Daisy did not give it to me. She kept calling. And texting. And e-mailing. Her excuse was, she was "too busy to give him an actual lease" (but could give him house keys?). My answer was simply, when I am busy I find someone else in my office to handle these things for me. That's why, just like her, I work with other people who do what I do. Or, if that solution isn't possible, I don't let the tenant move in. Even Baseball Guy.
By the time I got Luigi involved, I was beside myself. Personally, I don't know if this is the final straw that got Daisy fired. I suspect she had dug her grave with Luigi and this was just more fuel. But I for one was calling for her head.
Carolsue once told me never to trust anyone from Louisiana. Daisy is from Louisiana. She is the second person I have met from there and her behavior was just like the other Cajun. When Luigi and I were clearing things up in February, figuring out what was what, and working on moving forward, I flat-out asked him if he was from Louisiana. He may have thought it was a random question, but I now know better.
Wednesday, April 09, 2014
The Daisy Chronicles
When Daisy offered to take my properties instead of having them go to Mario, I was grateful. But, I was grateful that the homes weren't going to Mario, not that Daisy was somehow saving me. I figured my portfolio of homes would help her look more glamorous to a prospective employer. I was ok with that because I was getting a new property management company.
I didn't sign my homes over until December 31st, a full week and a half after my vacation just to make sure I had taken some time to check out my new company. My thought was it would be nice to have someone I had already trained and someone who knew my tenants handle things for me. A win-win.
Except things took an odd turn. For example, my home in Chalkville that Mrs. Green moved out of months ago still wasn't rented. When I pressed Daisy about it, she told me my rent was too high and there were much nicer homes for rent in that area. Also, she said Mrs. Green hadn't left the home in great condition. None of this made sense to me. I had always had it rented at much higher rent and I had seen this home last year and Mr. and Mrs. Green were immaculate housekeepers.
In February Daisy rented this home for significantly less money and to a Section 8 tenant. When I didn't show the appropriate amount of gratitude, she was floored. That situation has since been fixed, the tenant was told she couldn't move in and I eventually got what I expected for rent for a tenant I wanted. Incidentally, Luigi tells me my home is the nicest in the area.
Also, my tenant at the Grayson Valley home managed to get my work phone number. She knew enough about me--even though I am not on the title for the home--to find me. I believe Daisy gave her information about me so she could find me. I have an unusual first name and a common last name. However, I am not the only person with my name who happens to be a real estate professional in the Phoenix metro area.
Additionally, my tenant in Pinson moved out January 1st. Daisy knew this, assured me the home was picture-perfect. She told me she even went over and personally turned off the water on the property so the pipes won't freeze. Every time I asked, she would tell me she is showing the home, but it is just so far away she is having trouble finding anyone interested. She promised me it was advertised appropriately and my rent was too high--at a price less than I normally was getting. The house in question happens to be in the mountains. It is one of my favorites, with a wrap-around porch and a pond in the back. Some day I may want to live there.
It turns out the house was in no way ready to rent out. It was dirty. There was trash everywhere. It needed a coat soap and three coats of paint. And, the water was never, ever turned off. In the past week, the property was repaired, cleaned up and on the market for what I expect to be a reasonable amount of money. Luigi has been telling me every time he shows it. If Daisy had been straight with me back in early January, everything would have been done by mid-February and probably be rented out by now.
If you factor in the amount of rent I lost in the past few months with her lies and the amount of money needed to get the place back in order, she darn well better hope she doesn't see me any time soon. In fact, I did factor it all in. When this all came to a head in February I discussed this with Luigi. I didn't mince words. I could tell he had his fill of Daisy by then too. And sadly, this wasn't Daisy's biggest transgression.
But, that is for the next blog.
I didn't sign my homes over until December 31st, a full week and a half after my vacation just to make sure I had taken some time to check out my new company. My thought was it would be nice to have someone I had already trained and someone who knew my tenants handle things for me. A win-win.
Except things took an odd turn. For example, my home in Chalkville that Mrs. Green moved out of months ago still wasn't rented. When I pressed Daisy about it, she told me my rent was too high and there were much nicer homes for rent in that area. Also, she said Mrs. Green hadn't left the home in great condition. None of this made sense to me. I had always had it rented at much higher rent and I had seen this home last year and Mr. and Mrs. Green were immaculate housekeepers.
In February Daisy rented this home for significantly less money and to a Section 8 tenant. When I didn't show the appropriate amount of gratitude, she was floored. That situation has since been fixed, the tenant was told she couldn't move in and I eventually got what I expected for rent for a tenant I wanted. Incidentally, Luigi tells me my home is the nicest in the area.
Also, my tenant at the Grayson Valley home managed to get my work phone number. She knew enough about me--even though I am not on the title for the home--to find me. I believe Daisy gave her information about me so she could find me. I have an unusual first name and a common last name. However, I am not the only person with my name who happens to be a real estate professional in the Phoenix metro area.
Additionally, my tenant in Pinson moved out January 1st. Daisy knew this, assured me the home was picture-perfect. She told me she even went over and personally turned off the water on the property so the pipes won't freeze. Every time I asked, she would tell me she is showing the home, but it is just so far away she is having trouble finding anyone interested. She promised me it was advertised appropriately and my rent was too high--at a price less than I normally was getting. The house in question happens to be in the mountains. It is one of my favorites, with a wrap-around porch and a pond in the back. Some day I may want to live there.
It turns out the house was in no way ready to rent out. It was dirty. There was trash everywhere. It needed a coat soap and three coats of paint. And, the water was never, ever turned off. In the past week, the property was repaired, cleaned up and on the market for what I expect to be a reasonable amount of money. Luigi has been telling me every time he shows it. If Daisy had been straight with me back in early January, everything would have been done by mid-February and probably be rented out by now.
If you factor in the amount of rent I lost in the past few months with her lies and the amount of money needed to get the place back in order, she darn well better hope she doesn't see me any time soon. In fact, I did factor it all in. When this all came to a head in February I discussed this with Luigi. I didn't mince words. I could tell he had his fill of Daisy by then too. And sadly, this wasn't Daisy's biggest transgression.
But, that is for the next blog.
Tuesday, April 08, 2014
A Quick Summary
If you took the summation of words in the English language and added a few Yiddish ones for color, you still would not have an accurate description of what it has been like for me to own a gazillion rental homes in Alabama for the past three months and eight days. I can tell you this: I did not go to Birmingham. Everything imploded instead.
Let me back up. Last December, while on vacation, I found out that Kirby's company--the one who manages most of my rental homes--was going belly-up January 1. Daisy, who worked for Kirby and was soon to be out of a job, offered to take my properties to her new company. While hanging out at the world's biggest tourist trap in Orlando one sunny December day, I interviewed Luigi, the man who was going to hire Daisy. I liked him. I liked his philosophy on managing rentals. It seemed like a reasonable fit. Though I knew I was making a financial decision based on a 45 minute phone call, it seemed like a better course of action than giving my properties to Mario, managing them myself or interviewing more property management companies. So, Luigi won.
The deal was that Daisy would handle my accounts and Luigi would just cut the landlord checks every month. I was good with that. Except it didn't work that way. Needles to say, I was getting a bit frustrated and thinking I needed to go to Birmingham, put a boot in the ass of someone--and I didn't care who--and find a reasonable property management company to handle my affairs. I was even willing to take a drive down to Montgomery and have a chat with the Real Estate Commissioner if necessary. All I knew was I was bleeding money.
Then, a few simultaneous events happened--which are blogs unto themselves--and I wrote Luigi a quick note. I asked him to handle a few things that I felt Daisy was lacking. She said she was busy and would "get to them." However I didn't feel like I had time to wait. There also seemed to be a personality conflict between Daisy and a new tenant (also a blog for another time) and I was stuck in the middle of, mediating from 1,700 miles away. The final straw came for me when I asked Daisy a business question and she suggested I find her on Facebook and friend her. She never answered my question.
When I wrote Luigi, he did not write me back. He immediately called me instead. He wanted to know if I thought of Daisy's performance thus far. Was this normal for her? Actually no. I explained I was buying my plane ticket that day to go up to Birmingham (I was, actually) and he replied, "Let me save you some air fare. Tell me what you know." And then the dam broke. And I did tell him what I knew. And then some.
Daisy no longer works for Luigi. I haven't heard from her since. And I didn't find her on Facebook.
Let me back up. Last December, while on vacation, I found out that Kirby's company--the one who manages most of my rental homes--was going belly-up January 1. Daisy, who worked for Kirby and was soon to be out of a job, offered to take my properties to her new company. While hanging out at the world's biggest tourist trap in Orlando one sunny December day, I interviewed Luigi, the man who was going to hire Daisy. I liked him. I liked his philosophy on managing rentals. It seemed like a reasonable fit. Though I knew I was making a financial decision based on a 45 minute phone call, it seemed like a better course of action than giving my properties to Mario, managing them myself or interviewing more property management companies. So, Luigi won.
The deal was that Daisy would handle my accounts and Luigi would just cut the landlord checks every month. I was good with that. Except it didn't work that way. Needles to say, I was getting a bit frustrated and thinking I needed to go to Birmingham, put a boot in the ass of someone--and I didn't care who--and find a reasonable property management company to handle my affairs. I was even willing to take a drive down to Montgomery and have a chat with the Real Estate Commissioner if necessary. All I knew was I was bleeding money.
Then, a few simultaneous events happened--which are blogs unto themselves--and I wrote Luigi a quick note. I asked him to handle a few things that I felt Daisy was lacking. She said she was busy and would "get to them." However I didn't feel like I had time to wait. There also seemed to be a personality conflict between Daisy and a new tenant (also a blog for another time) and I was stuck in the middle of, mediating from 1,700 miles away. The final straw came for me when I asked Daisy a business question and she suggested I find her on Facebook and friend her. She never answered my question.
When I wrote Luigi, he did not write me back. He immediately called me instead. He wanted to know if I thought of Daisy's performance thus far. Was this normal for her? Actually no. I explained I was buying my plane ticket that day to go up to Birmingham (I was, actually) and he replied, "Let me save you some air fare. Tell me what you know." And then the dam broke. And I did tell him what I knew. And then some.
Daisy no longer works for Luigi. I haven't heard from her since. And I didn't find her on Facebook.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)