The Joys of Carpet Cleaning

So I am much closer to listing my Birmingham home than I was, say a week ago. According to Kirby, the painter ran out of paint, so they are a bit behind, but the house should be ready to go this week. And by the way, the home needs a good spit-shine, the water leak (news to me) repaired and the carpets cleaned.

In the South, "carpet cleaning" is synonymous with a company that tends to charge too much for someone who is probably on probation and embittered by life. I really don't need employees from these companies knowing how to gain access to my vacant home and have them help themselves to the copper. Or worse, have them move in, throw a wild party or open a meth lab when I am not looking. And because things like this happen--more often than one can imagine--I wasn't too keen on having them responsible for my carpets. Feeling a bit lost on this issue, I asked Kirby for a name of a reliable carpet cleaner and he gave me Marvin. Kirby swears he is the best carpet cleaner I will ever meet.

When I called Marvin, my call went straight to voicemail, where a male voice with a very incomprehensible drawl said something along the lines of: "Hello, this is Marvin, please leave a message." When I mentioned this to Kirby, he replied, "Yea, he is pretty country." Kirby's idea of "country" is my idea of "Southern." But regardless, I left a message.

It turns out Marvin didn't bother to answer, because he never answers if he doesn't recognize the phone number. Nor does he listen to the message left by anyone who calls and leaves a message from a number he doesn't recognize. Kirby told me this also when I called him several hours later to tell him that Marvin the Wonderful hadn't gotten back to me. Personally, that's an interesting way to do business. It doesn't work in the Big City, but perhaps it is a thing in Alabama.

Anyway, Marvin eventually did call me back (after Kirby jostled him). Marvin would love to clean my carpets! Now, again this is probably a Big City thing, but when one is hired to do a job, it is perfectly respectable to stop selling one's services. But not Marvin. As soon as I said "you are hired" Marvin broke into a sales pitch.

You see, Marvin only uses artisan spring water, that is carried by three year old yaks who are yolked with wood from old forests. The water is collected from the mountains of Tibet. Once the water is brought to a small monastery at the base of mountain, the monks then bless the water and distill only the purest of water droplets before having it sent by albatross to Birmingham Alabama for Marvin to use in his carpet cleaning machine.

Marvin then continued to tell me how he personally hand scrubs every fiber in the carpet, when he had to take a quick non-sequitur. He said--and I am not making this up--"I hope you can understand me. My teeth fell out of my mouth and I might sound funny." Personally, I just thought he sounded Southern and I would have preferred to think so for the rest of my life.

It is fair to say everything Marvin said about his carpet cleaning techniques (which went on for a bit longer) from that point forward I didn't hear. I was busy with a visual I just didn't need. My ears did perk up when he finally got around to talking about price. Frankly, he is the least expensive carpet cleaner I have ever met. I am just hoping I understood him correctly.

Yes Ma'am

I have gone through my fair share of Alabama property managers and feel I can unequivocally say I am convinced Luigi's company is the best I currently have to work with. Had Kirby not sold his company and went off to pursue more profitable vocations, I would take that statement back. And to be fair, Luigi's folks haven't been all that wonderful.

My true issue with Luigi's company is that his staff is having a very difficult time figuring out who they work for. I don't wish to belabor this point, but property management companies have one customer: the owners. They find owners renters for their homes. They handle tenant issues. They handle maintenance issues. They do not work for the tenants. It isn't that property management companies don't sympathize with tenants at times (and often curse owners behind their backs), it is that it is truly the owners who are the ones who pay for the services for the property management company. Hence, the primary customer of a property management company is the owners. Lest you think this is a philosophical issue, I assure you it isn't. This is actually contract law.

I have had my fair share of conversations with everyone at this company from Flunky, Slick Willy, Ms. April and even Luigi about this particular issue. I have written to them offering veiled threats. I have written them--using extra big syllables (and sometimes one syllable words when they were super-confused) explaining exactly how this is going to go. And somehow this has fallen on deaf ears (or in the case of my e-mails, blind eyes). However, I have two new contacts over there and though I am afraid I may jinx something, I think I have finally gotten Luigi's folks to see things my way.

Ms. Elsie apparently comprehends, "The tenants will be taking care of the yard." and "The tenants who ruined my hardwood floors will be paying my hardwood floors," and other such ideas. Not only am I getting a "Yes ma'am" from her, I am getting these kinds of e-mails from her, proactively explaining how the tenants are now being charged for their contractual transgressions. I would tell you it is about time but frankly I couldn't get any other property management company to comply with this prior to recently, so a new precedent has been set.

In addition to this, it appears I have a new contact in the maintenance department. Flunky is now apparently handling billing, though I am half-paranoid enough to believe I have been schlepped off because I may have suggested once too many times that he is incompetent. My new contact has been wonderful.

Ms. Mary sent me a note the other day, saying she was following up about the house in Moody. There had been a tree that had fallen in the yard. It hadn't been taken care of. The tenants were also complaining that I agreed to pay for flooring for a bedroom and hadn't followed through. That got my attention. Both of those issues should have been remedied a month ago. I let Ms. Mary know I was highly disappointed this hadn't happened.

I also let Ms. Mary know these are long term tenants and by no means did I want them to think I had dropped the ball on them. Because I hadn't. I sent her my correspondence with Flunky, showing that I did my part. I didn't say so in so many words, but essentially I double-dog-dared her to throw me under the bus and blame me to the tenants for not taking care of this house. Fortunately, it appears Ms. Mary has more integrity and sense than that. At least I hope so because I am quickly running out of big syllable words.

Waterworks

My Plumber's Dream Home. Probably.

I am expecting a very nice postcard from some exotic location from my plumber this year. I don't even know what I owe him just yet, but I am guessing it is a figure close to Iceland's Gross Domestic Product. Here's hoping he can live it up on his new beach house in Fiji, Barbados or the Maldives.

On Sunday, Mrs. Sherwood sent me a message saying, "The water problem is back. It is flooded and the floor is ruined." You may also remember that a few weeks ago my home in Alabaster had a similar issue. In that case, it was because nobody bothered to tell me the weather stripping needed to be replaced. And better yet, that issue wasn't conveyed to me right away. Instead, upon hearing there was flooding I went with "call a plumber."

This time, raw off that experience, I asked a couple of relevant questions to indeed find out 1) there is a problem with the washing machine drain and 2) a plumber is truly necessary. The best part was this entire exchange only took five minutes, versus the seven hours it took with Flunky. And by the way, this house isn't in property management. I may be seeing a pattern.

I resolved the water issue simply with Mrs. Sherwood calling my plumber and setting up a time for them to meet her out there. I would be the one paying the bill. When I asked her about the flooring, she assured me she would take care of it. It wasn't in a very conspicuous place and she felt letting it dry out and cleaning it would take care of the issue.

But, Mrs. Sherwood has been living in this house for almost 10 years. And frankly, if she looked around, she would figure out she is paying more than market-priced rent. And, she is a rock star of a tenant. So, if there is a flooring issue, I would rather pay a little extra, replace the floor and keep her much longer than let her be the least bit miserable. However, I don't feel that way about all my tenants.

Also this week I got a note from Mrs. Roebuck. In her home there is one potty and apparently it is broken. She told me this as I was driving my teenagers from one particular location to another--which frankly, is all I have done this week. And because I was not in a place to take notes, I told her the same thing I told Mrs. Sherwood: call the plumber. My big concern about this is that this was probably a rush job--which always costs more. However, it sure beats not having a working toilet.

So far, I haven't heard from either tenant or the plumber, so hopefully they were easy fixes. If they weren't. hopefully my plumber and I are friendly enough at this point where I may just call him myself and ask if I can borrow his beach house for a week or two. After all, I financed it.

Closer to Selling

My house I wish to sell in Alabama isn't on the market yet. This isn't a terrible shock, but a situation I would prefer to rectify sooner than later. In order for this to be done, many stars must align. You see, my former tenant sweetly left me a bit of a mess. Apparently she couldn't haul her used mattress, old boxes and a few other items to the curb for the trash to pick up. So, before anything else could be done, Kirby took care of that.

The house also needs a fresh coat of paint on the inside and out. If it would stop raining over there, the exterior could be painted. I am told the interior has been done. I have no idea what color, and though I would like to ask, it would probably emotionally obligate me to this process. And right now, I don't want to be emotionally obligated.

Then there are a few other things that must be done. The house needs to be cleaned. The former tenant took the shower heads. There was a rotted window header that needed to be replaced. Kirby allegedly "hired" someone to cut the bushes in the front, but I suspect he did it himself. And when all is said and done, the carpet needs to be cleaned.

Oh yes, I made the executive decision to replace the Formica butcher block-looking counter tops with some other more modern looking Formica counter tops. I have no idea what I bought, just because I don't want to be emotionally involved. I am told, as I write this, there are currently no counters at the house at all. Hopefully by tomorrow there will be.

This photo above, by the way, is a picture of the kitchen (with the Formica butcher block-ish counter tops). I believe Carolsue painted the cabinets for me years ago. The hardware looks like her handiwork too. Also at one time the kitchen walls were beet red. I painted those walls and cursed the tenant who made me buy six cans of Kiltz to cover up that ugly color.

Though it isn't on the market just yet, I have asked Kirby if he could please get me an offer $30,000 over asking price. The lucky buyers would also need to be willing to take the property as-is and close by April 30th. He thought I was kidding. But I am not.

Associate Broker

I got the word early today that the Arizona Department of Real Estate finally approved my application. This was pleasant news, after the week I had with them. You see, after 90 hours of school, 10 hours of arduous testing and then three more classes as well as a criminal clearance card, I had everything necessary to submit to the department to apply for my broker's license.

So, last Monday (on the way to the Diamondback's opening day, may I add) I drove right over to their office in East Phoenix and slapped down my paperwork on to someone's desk, only to be told my broker needed to initial one little teensy spot. And once he initialed it, all I had to do was e-mail everything in and Voila! I would have my hard-earned designation.

My broker, bless him, has been rushed to the emergency room twice in the past week and I happened to catch him on the one day when he was feeling relatively well. He immediately initialed the document (and gave me an earful on the idiotic bureaucratic policies in place--which I happen to agree with). I then re-submitted, thrilled to be done, done, done! But no.

You see, the department of real estate has rules and forms. On one particular piece of paper, when I was asked on this form how many hours I work per month, I answered 160. Apparently, according to the Arizona Department of Real Estate, that answer does not warrant a broker's license. The correct answer to that particular question turns out to be "172". I know this because the person handling my paperwork told me what to write before I turned it in again. So, I re-wrote the form, re-sent it to my ailing broker and then resubmitted all of the paperwork again--to the same person.

Apparently that wasn't good enough. The Arizona Department of Real Estate then arbitrarily decided they needed the same form (with the same magic "172 hours") signed and initialed by my former broker. They didn't need this initially. But by golly, it was a new burning issue and the only thing standing in the way of having "Associate Broker" at the end of my name.

One would think getting this form signed isn't terribly complicated. We have super-wonderful technology these days that even I can master. One particular program allows me to let anyone in the world "electronically sign" a document. Real estate agents everywhere use this. And, once my former broker clicks on the link (which electrically signs their name) the document is automatically sent back to me. So, piece of cake. The entire process, if one stalls, takes about three seconds.

Now, I know one of you three readers may know my former broker. And I don't wish to make you uncomfortable in the event you two are friends. But, please understand one of the significant reasons I left that particular company because of the childish and punitive behaviors nastiness unprofessionalism of this person. I didn't leave on bad terms, but my laundry list of examples of her poor behavior and unprofessional issues is fodder for a whole 'nuther blog site (Aptly named, "Bad Brokers and Ulcers").

And, in the event I ever thought of going back, I guarantee after this experience, I won't be. You see, my broker documents are time sensitive. My former broker knows this. So, last week I e-mailed this former broker. I called this former broker. I texted this former broker. I even sent her the form which needed attention--a form she has signed many times for other people on many occasions. I did this three times. And for my efforts, I couldn't even get a "I will get back to you." or even a "No. I will not sign this." In fact, when I called her at work twice, she refused my calls. It isn't like she doesn't know who I am. I was with that company for 12 years.

Frustrated, I bandied about a few solutions with others in my office who have dealt with her (there was a mass exodus from old company to my new company, so there are a lot of us who feel the same way). I was given suggestions from driving over to my former office, blocking in her car and not letting her out until she signed my form, to just going over to her home and giving her children copious amounts of candy until she signed my paper. There were a few other ideas which were questionably legal and my colleagues offered to start a Go-Fund-Me account for bail if I felt the need to follow any of their totally reasonable suggestions.

What I did do was a bit more passive aggressive. After giving Ms. Former Broker one more chance to take care of my very normal, and three-second request, I went to the Arizona Real Estate forum site on Facebook. This is a site I happen to know she trolls regularly. I posted asking if anyone on the forum was a member of the Realtor Association's professional standards and practices committee, and if so, would they please contact me because I needed advice.

Three members in the first 10 minutes after I posted contacted me. But even better, within 15 minutes of me posting and asking for assistance, Ms. Former Broker had returned my document. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I suggested it was a coincidence. I was immediately blackballed by the rest of the folks in my office who had once worked with her. In fact, one of these agents said, "Nothing with her has changed." Nope. It hadn't.

After that headache, I am now an associate broker.

I would like to tell you that getting my business cards was super-simple, but apparently I will have to find another social media site to take care of that issue. But with any luck, they will be arriving next week.