Something is Rotten in the State of Denmark... Er, Britian

My apologies to Shakespeare. But, this latest episode just isn't passing my smell test.

Earlier this week, I received an e-mail from Mr. Thomas. He wanted to rent the home in Leeds. I gave him the standard, drive by and tell me if you want to call Carolsue e-mail response.

Monday I received another e-mail from Mr. Thomas. He lives in England. He is moving to the US on behalf of his company. He wanted the deposits broken down and wanted to know what he was responsible for. He wanted interior pictures.

I gave Mr. Thomas an application, broke down the deposits for him and told him the only photos I had were the ones he saw on Craig's List. I also told him he would need to give me proof he was able to work in the US.

I don't really get the whole "transferring to Birmingham Alabama" thing. Personally, I don't see what Birmingham has to offer as far as a great international employment destination. I happen to like Birmingham. I like the people. I like the city. I like the tourist destinations. I like the hiking (Check out Oak Mountain!). They have the basics for shopping (Costco). The traffic isn't that terrible--though the locals disagree with me on this point. I looked up his company. They have a location in the metro New Jersey area and San Diego. Now I am even more confused about the Birmingham connection.

Mr. Thomas e-mailed me again today. He said:

Thanks for the details on the apartment, i am satisfied and will like to go ahead with the renting process, i will like you to go ahead and reserve the apartment for me. I want the 1 year lease to start on the 25th Sept. 2008, i will also want to notify you that i have in the mean time arrange with an interior decorator who will be handling the purchase of furnitures,entertainment system and other appliances that i will need in the property,they will as well be incharge of moving down my luggages down to the states. So the check of $4700 will be sent over to you which is a relocation grant by my employer, and all you need to do is deduct the deposit $2000 and you will forward the rest to the Decorators so i can have the place all prepared for my arrival. I look forward to meeting you and hope to have a good relationship as a tenant with you.

Mr. Thomas hasn't sent back the application. Which I told him today would be the first step. I thanked him for his enthusiasm. But, pesky little administrative tasks still need to be handled. Like proving to me this isn't one of those Nigerian (British) money laundering schemes. Or, like this guy is legitimately who he says he is. And, I do need to verify his ability to work in the United States--like, say... a work Visa? I really don't need someone renting a home from me with no practical means of income.

Mr. Thomas also told me he was an insurance claims adjuster (insert groan here). A Christian. A family man, married to a "lovely woman" and had a young daughter who would both be staying in the UK. He told me he was "reserved in Nature" and was a non-smoker and didn't keep pets. He is perfect tenant material with the exception of a few minor issues--like his inability to fill out a simple form.

Next, let me get this straight: an interior decorator? For a house in Leeds? Leeds Alabama? And, I am to take this money and divvy it between this interior decorator and myself? I understand Mr. Thomas doesn't know the logistics on my end. But, certainly, there seems to be some level of common sense that if he can get one check--for my deposits--that he surly can get two. One for me and one for the interior decorator. His company he says he works for is a very large insurance company. They can handle cutting two checks.

If he works for this large insurance company which has international offices, why do they not have a relocation person handling Mr. Thomas' move? Why is Mr. Thomas doing this by himself? Why have they not sent him out to look over the area? Why is he moving overseas for a year without his family? Why is he unwilling to show me a letter from his company proving they are moving him and guaranteeing his income?

All that aside. Let's assume for a moment, Mr. Thomas is legitimate. He still hasn't proven to me I want to rent to him. I don't know a thing about him. I appreciate he wants to live in my home. But, it all ties back to that application. Fill it out. Surly he can fax it or scan it back to me. Which brings me to my final question. If this guy works as an insurance adjuster why is he resisting filling out some basic paperwork?

Nope, something doesn't smell right.

Yea, Right...

I hadn't heard from Christy. Until today. And, technically, I didn't hear from her today either. I heard from Karen.

Karen left a message for me, informing me she and I spoke "extensively" last week about my vacant home. In her message, Karen told me they would be "scraping" the deposit together and should have it next week. She actually said "scraping"! She then proceeded to tell me they would be ready to move in immediately after that.

Here's a tip on how to impress a landlord: don't use the word "scraping" when referring to deposits or rent.

I am so glad I got Karen's message as a voice mail. I am even more thankful that when I called back I got Karen's/Christy's answering machine. I left a message stating if they were indeed that interested, I would be happy to get an application to them as soon as possible. I would also need the application fee before I ran the checking credit, criminal background and eviction history. I would also need two pay stubs so I could verify employment. I explained these were just part of the standard rental proceedures. And, as I was sure they were aware, this was just a simple administrative matter.

Karen called back, admitting she never spoke with me. Instead, it was her daughter who had called. She then told me their landlord has agreed to let them stay for a mere $300 a month.

Of course this landlord did! I believe this. I believe in Santa too. The landlord has also found a cure for cancer, takes in stray animals and has solved the crisis in the Middle East all in the landlord's spare time. A noble woman that landlord.

At any rate, Karen asked me to call her if I didn't rent it out by the end of next month, because they will probably need it then. Sure thing. I will get right on that.

These Rentals Practially Manage Themselves

I have a business partner. Actually, I have three. One happens to be my husband. The other two are a couple we know. Mrs. Partner is about as silent as they come. Mr. Partner asks questions and gives valuable input. He lets me manage the show.

Yesterday I sent him Lana's note. But, I realized he was completely out of context. He has no idea what goes on behind the scenes. Yes, he has a few rental homes. But, these homes are less than ten minutes from his residence and there are only three of them. I could show him this blog, but then again, there might be a time when I want to complain about him.

In the past two months I have:

· Evicted a tenant, found a beekeeper, two lawn guys, fought with an insurance adjuster and found someone to take care of the work at Wayward's home.

· Battled the IRS on our company's behalf--and won.

· Dealt with the US Bankruptcy Court regarding another tenant's Chapter 7.

· Listed and negotiated the sale of a home which didn't pan out.

· Put two homes up for rent.

· Found a tenant for one of those homes--after weeding through several looses to get to the one I picked.

· Handled repairs for an air conditioner, electrical work, plumbing and lawn care. And, that includes negotiating with these vendors for better pricing.

· Filed two separate police reports.

· Begun the eviction process of another tenant.

Yep, piece of cake.

Alpha-Boss May Kiss My Sub-Floor

Last Friday, after the most maddening phone call I had in a long time, I got angry. Alpha-Boss pushed me beyond my good nature.

Hell hath no wrath like a public relations professional scorned. I drafted a letter to the Alabama Board of Insurance and another to Alpha-Boss's home office. I bandied around phrases like "standard of care." I explained Alpha-Boss NEVER said he wouldn't cover the flooring because it wasn't an insurable item. Instead, he had magically read Wayward's mind, knowing she wanted the ugly tile underneath the former carpet as her floor covering of choice.

I kept my letter professional, steering clear of Alpha Adjuster's God Complex and other unbelievably inappropriate personality quirks. Keeping with my crusade, Legal Eagle also gave me the name of an attorney who handles this kind of nonsense. Carolsue (who also happens to be a paralegal--and worked for this guy at one time) tells me this new attorney is tough. According to Carolsue, you would rather meet God at final judgement than this dude.

This morning I called my insurance agent and discussed with her what I was planning on doing. I explained my logic: simply there was no reason not to cover the missing flooring. I was going to start with a letter writing campaign to anyone who would listen to me and see what that accomplished. If necessary, I would pay this new attorney $300 to write a letter, on his letter head, explaining why I have been damaged and how the insurance company should fix it.

In my conversation with my agent, I asked her for a reality check: was my request to have the flooring covered as part of the insurance out of line? We discussed a few other things too--like the amount of time this claim has taken and the loss of rent that has come from the ineptitude of Alpha and his boss.

In truth, by the time I had called my agent this morning, I really had given this up as a lost cause. I had been noodling whether I wanted to spend the rest of the week fighting over the cost of flooring or if I wanted to let it go. After all, I can fight over principle and just spend my money and time, gaining nothing. Or, I can just get the flooring replaced and move on.

But, before I had to make this decision, I got an e-mail from Lana. It said: I have spoken with Alpha-Boss regarding your carpet and loss of rent. They will write a supplement estimate for the carpet. If the repairs go past the month of Sept, they will pro-rate the loss of rent.

I may have lost Friday's battle. But I won this war.

Why Wouldn't She Think I Would Talk to Carolsue?

Last Thursday, I put an add on Craig's list advertising my Leeds house for rent. Thursday afternoon Christy called me. She wanted to see the house. I followed my standard procedure, take a drive by, if you like, call me and I will give you Carolsue's number.

Christy told me she lived in Trussville. I thought it odd that she would have any interest in a home in Leeds. It would be the equivalent of living in Gilbert and moving to Buckeye. Or for you St. Louis readers, living in St. Peters and moving to Florissant. Very different living styles.

Friday morning Christy called back. She loved the house, but would I lower the deposit because there seemed to be some issue with the back steps leading up to the deck. (NO!!!) And, what was Carolsue's number?

Christy called me an hour later. She hadn't heard from Carolsue. No, Carolsue works. In fact, I mentioned this during our first and second call. If she doesn't call you by Sunday, let me know. But, please give Carolsue some time to return your call.

Two hours later Christy called again and we went through the entire drill. Carolsue would NOT be calling at least until after work hours. Christy also gave me a few extra tid-bits about her life. She had a husband and two children. And, she has two cats.

Carolsue did meet Christy and her crew out at the house today. First, it isn't just Christy, a husband, two children and two cats who would be residing there. It is Christy's mother, another child, a soon to be born baby, FIVE indoor cats and two dogs residing in this 1,200 square foot home.

Christy marveled at how I taken care of the back steps so quickly (I hadn't), but lamented to Carolsue that I had agreed to let her husband do it. She also told Carolsue I had already approved her for the house. Carolsue nodded and smiled, knowing full well I have a six page application, and I do a background, criminal and credit check.

Christy also went through the home, announcing to Carolsue she would be painting the master bedroom red and black. She would be painting the front bedroom teal. She would be ripping out the shrubs in the front. I apparently had approved this.

Carolsue made polite conversation, asking what they did for a living. Every time this came up, she watched with amusement as the three adults changed the subject and scurried out of the room, looking for more things I had already approved to be remodeled.

By the time they left, not only had they been pre-approved to rent the house, but they were planning on moving in just as soon as they had the deposit money together (which apparently, they confided, is a bit of a challenge). They were already writing out their formal Thanksgiving dinner invitations, ready to invite more family and friends to cram into this tiny house with their five indoor cats and two dogs.

Before Carolsue left, she checked the house. It turns out Christy and Co., opened two windows so they could sneak back into the home. As a real estate agent, I know this trick. And, I was pleased Carolsue took the time to check for this. And, Baseball Guy is planning on going out there again tonight and tomorrow just to make sure Christy and Co. haven't moved in. And, I have already alerted the Leeds police to look for anyone lurking over there. "You mean like another lawn guy?" joked the policewoman who took my call. She knew what I meant. My tax dollars at work.

As for Christy and Co., I haven't heard from them. Which is fine by me.

Referals Aren't Only for HMOs

Calvin no longer mows lawns where bees may or may not be present. Carolsue didn't seem to think this was the end of the world, as she swears he doesn't do a great job anyway. Nevertheless, I still had the county's certified letter, telling me I had mere days to take care of Wayward's yard. Or else.

I called Tenant 114, who told me he wasn't willing to drive that far. Fair enough. Wayward's home is 40 miles. One way.

My next step was a blanket e-mail to several folks--mostly tenants--who might know someone. In fact, I sent my note out to about 10 people. I had a response from six of them. And, one mowed my lawn today. Just in time to spite Jefferson County's Lawn Inspection Department. But, just in case this guy doesn't meet Carolsue's minimum standards, I now have the name of five other potential lawn guys.

This is how things are done in Alabama. I marvel at how unusual and slow things are there. And, though there is nothing wrong with the way business is done there, I am used to a different level of professionalism.

In Alabama, one's reputation weighs more than a checkbook. I am more likely to get something done in Alabama because I know someone, instead of randomly calling lawn services. This is true for everything from appraisers to process servers and every profession in between.

He Woke Me Up For This?

Today's frustration is brought to you by Alpha Boss. I can't think of a realistic way to describe this guy. Patronizing. Condescending? No, that isn't harsh enough. However, I already used up my daily supply of four-letter words talking to Legal Eagle today.

Alpha-Boss called me at some unholy hour this morning wanting my e-mail address. He didn't want to speak with me. He just wanted to send me photos. What is he afraid of? I am going to come through the phone lines and make his life a living nightmare? Well, I am. But, I didn't know that at the time.

Instead of giving Alpha-Boss my e-mail address, I made him tell me what he would and would not cover. After a lot of hedging, he got to the point, simply stating, "I am giving you the benefit of the doubt."

I would like to go on record right now by stating NOBODY questions my integrity. That is certainly one way to get me riled up. Another way is by not honoring your word. Alpha Boss was batting 500 today.

Alpha-Boss will cover the missing sink. He will cover the holes in the wall. He will cover the missing light fixtures. Apparently the banister is also covered.

He will NOT cover the broken garage door. That apparently is "tenant wear and tear." Huh? Someone backed into the door!

He will not cover the missing flooring. Alpha-Boss actually told me the reason he would not cover the flooring was because the tenant was--and these are his words--"making the home her own." I explained to Alpha-Boss that we have a lease. If she wanted to "make this her own" she could get a mortgage and buy the place. Then she would have the absolute right to "make it her own." But, the purpose of a lease was that she would honor my right to keep it as MY own.

At this point, Alpha-Boss suggested he was giving me the benefit of the doubt again. Yes, he made that snappy comeback twice. Gotta love originality.

I am really uncertain as to why Alpha Boss is being so stingy. After all, it isn't like he is paying this claim out of his pocket. I don't regularly go around putting in claims. I have had properties in terrible condition. But, they did not have structural damage. I just want the damage covered. And, that includes the missing flooring and the garage door.

Because I had nothing better to do, I stupidly asked why this claim has taken so long. Alpha-Boss told me he respectfully disagreed. Well, thank goodness the house didn't catch fire. Would that have also taken a month to determine they weren't going to cover the structure? I explained I have performed in less than 24 hours each time I was asked to do so. Alpha-Boss didn't really have an answer for that. But, I think he was fresh out of giving me the benefit of the doubt comebacks.

I explained that the amount of time this place has sat vacant (because of their inability to determine what damage looks like) makes the house more vulnerable. And, because there have been several burglaries for air conditioners and copper piping in that neighborhood, I am explaining my concern at their delay.

Alpha Boss said, "are you telling me you are planning on putting another claim in?" Well, that is certainly an original way of questioning my ethics.

Lana, Lana's boss and Legal Eagle are working on this now. But, because I am not done here. The Alabama Board of Insurance is going to get involved. If I have to call Alpha-Boss' boss, that will happen too.

But for now, all I can do is fume and write about this stupidity.

For Sale

I woke up this morning to an offer waiting on my fax machine for my current vacant home. The earnest money was only $250. The buyer wanted us to contribute more than $10,000 in closing costs and down payment assistance. This wouldn't be too bad if the offer hadn't been ridiculously low.

As a real estate agent, I refuse to be insulted by some buyer's assessment of value. They are entitled to their opinion, and I don't have to sell my home at their price.

The deal died a quick painful death. Apparently, anything less than us being absolutely charitable wasn't going to get this house sold. Sigh... Time to get it rented out.

Take a Number

Mr. Smith and his nasty little ways really got to me this weekend. I have no idea what he is doing to my home. So, I let my imagination run wild, thinking the worst. Looking back, I have to wonder why I wasted my time thinking about him. What can I do if he has ripped a hole in the wall? Fix it. It isn't like I haven't done that before.

One of my biggest concerns about Mr. Smith's home is that it will be more of a challenge to rent out. I am fully aware it is one of the reasons Mr. Smith got breaks. I know finding another renter for this home might be a challenge. Of course, that is the fear talking.

I was fretting to my husband about this when he let out a belly laugh. "You always have people lining up to rent from you."

"I do?"

"How many people want Wayward's former home?" He asked.

He is right. I have two applications on it. Both haven't stepped foot in the interior and know they won't be able to until the place is fixed up. Both have driven by, seen a jungle of a yard and a broken garage door. If they have looked in the windows, they have seen a missing kitchen sink. And yet, they want the house.

Right after my husband mentioned this, I checked my e-mail. In there was a note from some perfect stranger, who heard about me from someone I have never heard of. Did I have any vacant homes she could rent? She needs to move right away. I do have one available. And, there is Mr. Smith's home if "right away" means in the next month or two. Mr. Smith's home is in a very good school district. And, she can always toss her hat into the ring for Wayward's.

Fear Isn't All It is Cracked Up to Be

The other day, I had an interesting conversation with a neighbor. This beautiful, Godly woman told me she is motivated by fear. Fear of financial failure, fear of being homeless, fear of not having enough, fear of disappointing her children, family and friends. I marveled at her insight to know this about herself. And later that day I realized I recognized myself in her description. Eek!

My husband, the happy-go-lucky guy that he is, lets me do the fretting. If I say something like, "We are on the brink of disaster," he will (rightly) say, "Why are you planning for that?" He is little Marty Sunshine.

One of the areas I had some clarity from my conversation with my neighbor was when it comes to Mr. Smith (which is his real name). I tolerated Mr. Smith's annoyances because I have been motivated by fear. Fear of him doing damage to my property and to my reputation.

But then I got to thinking. After all the garbage I have gone through with Wayward, I had to laugh. Is there anything he can possibly do to this house that I haven't seen before? Puleeze! Been there, done that. Got the voodoo doll of Alpha Adjuster to prove it.

Last July, when handed the foreclosure notice, Mr. Smith called me, offering me a solution he thought was viable. I agreed to it, knowing he was buying time. I went along with it not because I believed he would perform. Instead, I knew I had Wayward's home on the deck. I knew my resources were being stretched if I took on his house and Wayward's. His mortgage payment is significantly less. He could wait.

The day he offered the solution, he said, "If we can't make it, we will pack up and leave on August 1. You won't have to evict me. I promise." Well, it is August 31 and he is still there. Glory, (former tenant number 1), confirmed that yesterday. She called me from his driveway, with Mr. Smith peering out the window. Glory thought it was funny. She has met Mr. Smith before.

The eviction process was started last month. If the courts don't screw up, it will probably go until early October, when the sheriff comes over with a couple of inmates and a box of trash bags. They will then take the Neptune washer and dryer, the 60 inch high-def television and all of their other worldly belongings and move them to the front yard.

I have fantasized about being there, sitting on a lawn chair, sipping wine and watching the action. Perhaps I can even drag Trusted along. He would be great company. Mr. Smith once threatened Trusted. Trusted laughed at him when it happened--which was not the affect Mr. Smith was going for. But, it pretty much set the tone for the dynamic between them.

In my fantasy, I will watch the inmates take his belongings out and I will give Mr. Smith a friendly wave as he walks out. I will be secure in the secret knowledge that he will pay me. I will file a judgement against him. I am going to garnish his wages. I am looking forward to this.

One way or another, Mr. Smith will be out of my life. He might trash my house. Then again, he might not. And, if he goes that route, I have insurance. And I have Legal Eagle. He might trash my name. But, does anyone really take him seriously?

I Stand Corrected

Well, it WAS Flunky who went out with Baseball Guy. He told Baseball Guy he hadn't "really looked around" last time he was in the house.

Ya think? I guess that is how he missed the fact there are no air vents on the ducts and the variety of holes the size of hippopotamuses in several walls.

So, now Flunky only needs to give his report to Alpha. From there Alpha makes a determination as he sees fit. So, I am still at Alpha's mercy.

Just Subtract Two Hours

This morning, my phone started ringing at 5:31 a.m. This is not unusual, because there are those nice folks five states away who just don't understand time zones. Today it rang so much before 7 a.m., that I just gave up crawled out of bed and started returning my calls.

Calvin called to fire me again. I think this time he means it. He got stung by another bee. I really am sorry this happened again. I like the guy. He does good work. The County sent me a certified nasty-gram telling me I had until September 9 to clean up the yard. I called Carolsue begging for a name of a lawn guy who isn't allergic to bee stings.

The electric company called. Remember back to January and the vacant home? Handyman #3 (Mr. Smith, the upstanding citizen that he is) put in a hot water heater for me. The electric hot water heater was courtesy of the power company if I converted from gas to electric. Mr. Smith told me at the time that he sent back a form, stating that yes he did install it (and I had no idea this had to happen until he told me this was protocol). Apparently if this form is not filled out, I will be charged $300. Guess why the power company called this morning?
I also heard from Clay. He works for an HVAC company. He was called out to one of my properties because the air conditioner wasn't working. Clay tells me the unit is ancient and needs to be replaced. Second opinion time! The second opinion was similar to the first, but more expensive. A call to the gas company confirmed what Clay and the more expensive guy told me. The unit should be condemned.

So, after talking to Clay again, I recognize his last name. It is an unusual name and I haven't run into many folks from a German descent around Birmingham. Stupidly, I ask if he has any relatives in the area. Yes he does but he doesn't really know them. I mention I once had tenants by the same name. He said, "Good tenants or bad? Then I will tell you if I am related." I explain they were very good tenants who suddenly stopped paying. I am under the impression something happened in their life and they just didn't want to work it out with me. He said, "If they were deadbeats and owe you money, I don't want to know them." I like Clay.

My last call was from Lana. Had the Flunky been back to the house? I actually didn't know. So, I called Carolsue again. "You lost another lawn guy? It has only been 30 minutes Sugar," she drawled when she heard it was me.

No, I needed to know if Flunky called. Yes he did. But, she sent Baseball guy out there on her behalf. And, it wasn't Flunky this time. This time it was Alpha Adjuster! And, he went out there on a Thursday. According to Carolsue, who heard it from Baseball Guy, Alpha does now believe the home needs some work. When he will get around to writing me a check is anyone's guess.

One for the "You've Got to be Kidding Me" Files

The Alpha-Adjuster's boss called me today. He tells me Alpha doesn't feel there is enough damage to warrant a claim. He--or Alpha--could have mentioned this weeks ago and saved me having to keep this place vacant.

After delving deeper with Alpha-Boss, it turns out the flunky they sent out last week only found a missing sink. Apparently, Flunky is also an adjuster.

And, I agree, a missing sink is less than my deductible. However, Flunky missed a few major things. For example, there is water damage to the kitchen cabinets where the sink was ripped out. There is a permanent stain on the bathroom counter top. The carpeting has been ripped out. The banister for the staircase is missing. The garage door is broken. I could go on and on. And, I did go on and on to Lana, with a carbon copy to Legal Eagle.

Lana, who has a heart of gold, called me immediately. She was going to have Flunky contact me to set up a time with Carolsue to see the property. Carolsue was then going to point out where the soft spot in the master bedroom floor was, as well as all of the other obvious items wrong. You know, like a lack of flooring!

Flunky did call me. His only question after getting Carolsue's number was, "Was it the banister going up the staircase or going down the staircase that was ripped off?"

Last time I checked there was only one staircase and it went both directions. And, the railing was lying on the floor. But, hey! I am not the adjuster.

Legal Eagle wrote me back too. She said, "I love someone else's drama."

So do I.

Adjusting My Expectations

Well, it is Tuesday. And you know what that means don't you? The adjuster is in the office ignoring my vacant home.

You see, the adjuster did get the quote--from his own contractor. And he decided it was too high. I really couldn't argue. I personally thought the quote was outrageous.

What I really don't understand is why the adjuster doesn't just go over to the house and price it himself. Isn't that what he is paid to do? What does he do with himself the other six days a week anyway?

The adjuster did send some other flunky out there. Or at least I think he did. There was a voice mail for me at 5 a.m. last Friday asking how to get into the house. Apparently this guy didn't see the notes left by the adjuster on how to get into the home. Also, the guy didn't see the note saying I would be in the mountains without cell service Thursday and Friday and to please call my residence if he needed anything. Fortunately, one of my travel companions needed to go into town Friday morning and I was able to retrieve my voice mail.

The only other sensible thing the adjuster did do is get me a liaison to discuss these meaningful questions with. I suspect Lana was called in because I suggested to the adjuster last week that perhaps if he was unavailable there might be someone else in his office, like another adjuster or a supervisor, he might be able to put me in contact with. In all fairness, I did say it in the nicest way. I was looking for a solution, not a fight.

I like Lana. She is perfectly charming, knowledgeable about insurance and landlord related issues, but doesn't have a crystal ball. From what I can tell, her job is primarily to run interference and to keep me from clogging up the adjuster's voicemail with my incessant inquiries.

Me: So, what else does the adjuster need so I can get this house turned around? After all, I can't rent it out until it is fixed. I can't file a police report until I have an amount from the adjuster. The longer it is vacant the more likely it is to get vandalized.

Lana: Bless your heart, this must be so frustrating for you. Let me call the adjuster and find out what I can.

Me: But he only works on Tuesdays. Is there someone else who might be able to answer these questions?

Lana; I am not sure. Let me call the adjuster and ask him.
Me: I really don't want the air conditioner stolen.

Lana: Well, you know you have insurance that will cover that.


My insurance company is one of the largest and most reputable organizations I have found. My agent is professional. I have gotten her involved and she swears by this adjuster. She swears he is laid back (no kidding!). I am not. It isn't a good match. Isn't there one $&!%$&^* type-A work-a-holic adjuster in the Greater Birmingham area?

My agent has called me every week since this has started to make sure I am taken care of and satisfied. She even bravely called today--knowing how I felt last week. She tells me Lana is top notch too. But, in the end we all have to defer to the alpha-adjuster. Because he is the one calling the shots.

Gotta Give a Shout-Out

Happy Birthday Bliz!

You are more than a patient, mind-reading bookkeeper. You are a dear friend! And, I am glad you are MY dear friend. The next Dairy Queen run is on me.

T. G. I. Tuesday

I have a friend who lived in China and told me tales about shopping. For example, in order to buy a bottle of bleach, it wasn't just as simple as walking into your local Wal-Mart, picking up your bleach, slapping your cash on the counter and going home.

Instead, it was a matter of going through a network of people who may or may not have seen a shopkeeper who carried bleach, arranging transportation into Beijing (these were ex-pats who lived in an international area of town), finding the said shopkeeper and then negotiating the price for bleach. She told me this process could take a week. Only a week? That doesn't seem that bad any more.

My Wayward-empty house drama is entering its third week. So far, the only thing accomplished is that I am tired of writing about it. Otherwise, nothing has gotten done except for me building up a generous amount of frustration, coupled with a healthy serving of youhavegottobekiddingme!

I might have mentioned the insurance adjuster works in the office one day a week? I am not sure what he does the other four days. I suspect it involves a boat and a fishing pole. His voicemail says he regularly checks messages and promises to call by the end of business that day if the caller leaves a message. It seems, this is true only if that caller isn't me.

The insurance adjuster did not see a reason to call me back to get information on my home. When I spoke with him today, he told me it was because he spoke with my husband last week. All my husband told him was to call me. When the adjuster called me today, he was wondering what on earth I wanted. Apparently I didn't get the ESP signals to send the estimate for damage, a police report and photos of the damage into him to move this along. I would have known he needed these things if he had returned one of my sixteen messages.

The contractor gave me a bid on the home. It took a week. And, it was missing some relevant things like fixing the the floor. Did I mention there is a soft spot in the master bedroom floor where someone dropped an elephant? The floor joist is broken. I have been assured anyone standing there will automatically plummet into the den below. The contractor did manage to include a quote for painting. Did I mention Wayward painted the walls navy blue? By the way, they can get the work accomplished in four to six weeks.

My painter also gave me a quote on just painting. It put the contractor to shame. About half the price in a quarter of the time.

The Birmingham police station tells me I need to come into the downtown precinct to pick up the police report. I patiently explained the logistics to the records officer. After clearing up I was in Phoenix Arizona and not Phoenix City Alabama (and I did not know her cousin who lives there), she and I were on the same page. I would not be coming in. Her next suggestion: send a self-addressed stamped envelope and a $5 bill to her and she would kindly send me the report. I asked if I could have someone with a power of attorney just come by with $5 and pick up the report. She considered for a moment and decided that it seemed reasonable.

So, now all I need are the photos I have been waiting for from the contractor. He was supposed to have sent them yesterday. And, all this will be submitted to the adjuster for him to review. You remember the adjuster don't you? Yes that one. He only works on Tuesdays.

The Holiest Man in Birmingham

So, what is the worst house someone ever left me? Wayward's isn't a fun experience. And it certainly had the most damage. But, as the contractor said today, "it isn't that bad." True. Sinks aren't too expensive. That said, I haven't gotten the estimate yet either.

Several years ago when Baseball Guy moved out, The Good Pastor moved in. One of the things the Good Pastor stressed to me was how important his work was. This was his calling. This was his life. He was to feed the masses the good Word.

The Good Pastor was nothing short of a pain in my neck from about the second month of his tenancy on. The main difference between he and Mr. Smith, is I wasn't as jaded back then and The Good Pastor didn't pretend to like me. Looking on the bright side, The Good Pastor essentially wrote the crib notes in my play book. About a year ago, he was my first eviction. I wasn't sorry to see him go.

I had a couple of tenants--including Baseball Guy and Carolsue--drive by and keep an eye on the place for me, waiting to give me the word that they were gone. The curtains were drawn, and according to the power and water companies, the utilities were still on. So, by law, it was still occupied. This went on for about three weeks. Finally, during one of my trips to Birmingham Trusted and I traipsed over there, jaunted around to the back yard where I broke into the house to find it newly abandoned.

The Good Pastor and his wife did not damage the house. But, they left all their worldly trash behind. They left the peanut butter on the counter. There were unpaid bills from a variety of sources crammed into every drawer. Some bills even dating from a year earlier. There were piles of clothing all over the floor. In fact, to go through the house, one had to walk between piles of clothes, toys, kitchen utensils, electronic gadgets, paper trash and books. It is amazing to me all the stuff people have that they deem important enough to put in their homes until it is time to leave.

Handyman #1 actually cleaned up the place. It took him two days, two cans of roach spray and more than 100 trash bags to get everything over there in ship-shape.

The Good Pastor, who it turns out was living in the tax-payer subsidized housing in downtown Birmingham, got wind that his belongings were being tossed out and immediately contacted me asking for everything back. I didn't really want to oblidge. It meant drawing out my relationship with The Good Pastor even longer. However, Legal Eagle, my evictions attorney, told me I really didn't have a choice. It was his stuff.

So, one morning Handyman #1 met The Good Pastor out at the house. The guy showed up in a brand new Cadillac Escalade. A vehicle so new that the plate and tags were not on it yet. He took two bags of junk, the clothes dryer and high-tailed it back out. Leaving the rest of his children's toys, family's clothes and other worldly belongings out at the curb.

Where Can I Find a Job Requiring Me to Only Work One Day a Week?

I called in my insurance claim on Monday. I need this claim so I can press charges--and yes, I will be doing that too. My insurance agent told me just to sit tight (yes really) and the adjuster would give me a call. I gave every conceivable way to contact me--with expressed directives to call me on my cell first.

Yesterday afternoon, while out doing something completely unrelated to Alabama property management, the adjuster called. My husband gave him my cell number and had the incredible foresight to take his vital information. The adjuster didn't call me on my cell. He didn't call on my Birmingham number either. So, today I called him.

It seems the insurance adjuster only works in the office on Tuesdays. Today is Wednesday. This isn't happy news to me.

I did do what any frantic person would do, call back, entered the company's telephony system (complete with southern drawl, may I add) and manically pushed zero until I found a friendly live body who would listen to my tale of woe.

I have asked for everything from a new claims adjuster to this guy's cell number. Instead, I got a round of "oh mys" and a litany of "bless your hearts."

That is one thing about the good people of the South, they always treat your situation as if it were big news--no matter what. I could have said, the front room has a missing 49 cent outlet cover, and it would have elicited the same level of sympathy. They will do this whether they they were planning on offering a viable solution or not. You will always get sincere regret for your situation. And, as likely as not, after your phone call the person you were speaking to will round up a few coworkers for an anonymous prayer vigil. Several strangers will up and leave their desks, casting aside their company business to voluntarily congregate in the lunch room for a moment or two on your behalf. There really are worse things.

In this case, the insurance company representative also did the next best thing to sending out an adjuster. They arranged for a contractor to head out and give me an estimate on Wayward's former home. From what was explained to me, an estimate can be submitted back to the insurance company. If I agree with the estimate, apparently somebody at the insurance company can then see about processing it without the MIA adjuster.

Hopefully the contractor works more than one day a week, because I happen to know he was in the office today.

Putting it in Perspective

Lest you think my blog is one big complaint--and I think I made it pretty clear this is personal therapy not a major bitch session--I usually like what I do. Even the stuff that hits me hard isn't meant as a big whiny, self-deprecating poor me-fest. Writing releases me from the stress. It is a way to give to God the stuff tormenting me, letting go of what I can't control.

Just maybe writing my experiences as a landlord will be of value to someone else out there. Maybe they will see the Wayward's and Smith's of the world and not make the mistakes I have made.

Yes, there are issues. And, when issues show up they often do it as a tidal wave instead of a trickle. I would prefer to have less negative experiences. But, the challenges of what I face make me a better business woman, better investor and overall better person. Or, at least I hope so.

My company has two components. One section deals with straight rentals. That is the part where I have the majority of challenges. These are the things that tax my good nature, test my sanity and give my two loyal readers the impression I am three sheets to the wind the majority of the time (for the record, I am not). What the hell! This is where the best blog-fodder comes from.

But, a good part of my company's focus is designed to help people who have good character and poor credit own a home. There are tons of folks in this category who need help. They come from all walks of life. They are of every color, nationality and background. Some have made it to the top. Some are still on the first rung of the ladder of success. It doesn't change who they are. Character matters. You can't find a section for character on a credit report.

I mentioned Terry once--a former tenant who still calls me regularly. There is Tina. I went to her wedding last October. She was able to give her three boys a better life by moving into one of my homes located in a better neighborhood and school district. She told me the changes for her family made a difference in their lives. Her middle son was heading for trouble. He found a mentor, the right kinds of friends and has turned his life around.
There is Penny, whose husband of many, many years had emergency surgery and died. This happened right after they bought a new-fangled RV. They were going to spend their golden years touring the country. Instead, when her grief subsided, she gave the RV back to the dealership and moved to Arizona to be closer to her grandchildren. There is a family from South Africa who couldn't buy a home because they hadn't been at their job long enough.

There is a grocery store manager. A single mother who needed to get away from her abusive husband. There is a family where the husband ended up going on disability when they were house-hunting, thus impeding their ability to get a loan. At least three of the families in my program have even owned rental homes. There are other stories too, some even too personal to go write about--even anonymously.

The part of my company that works with these folks is a very specific program. I am not looking to help the people who carelessly run up their credit card buying Fingerhut merchandise. I will go to bat for those who have had something happen--divorce, medical emergencies or death and are ready to bounce back. The banks won't take a chance because they had an event in their life wounding their credit and scarring their future ability for the American Dream. I am not talking about impoverished families. I am talking about hard-working people from all walks of life who had something happen to them. Tragedy doesn't discriminate.

Most of the time, things work out perfectly fine. Sometimes I get Wayward. If someone like Wayward came to me now looking for a home, she would not be the kind of person I would select. Thanks to experiences with people like her, I am much better at what I do. And, it is people like Wayward I have to thank for making me that much wiser. I couldn't buy this kind of education in a college course.

Today I got an e-mail from one of my tenants I never hear from. It simply said, "Thanks for taking a chance on us." That's the kind of people who make this worth my time.

Bee-Where?

I got in touch with Calvin today. Or, I left a message and he actually called me back. He was sweet enough to actually inquire about my health and the weather before getting down to brass tacks.

After a bit of finagling (read: groveling), Calvin has decided not to drop me as a client just yet. I am grateful for one more chance to prove I am not a crazy landlord out to make his life a living hell. Though I don't know if there is much I can do to the contrary. Calvin agreed to finish Wayward's home. He is also willing to take a jaunt out to Leeds to mow my other yard.

Calvin did manage to mention his experience last week has left him paranoid. He is apparently afraid of being stung. And, now, while toiling on some less crazy person's yard, is hearing bees everywhere.

I did assure Calvin the bees are gone. "Yes, Ma'am." He said quietly. "I sure hope you are right."

She Took the Kitchen Sink

Thank God for Former Tenant #2. Carolsue has been helping me out with a variety of Birmingham tasks. Lately it has been all about Wayward's home. Saturday, she had an opportunity to go in and tell me what I was looking at.

But first, armed with her power of attorney, Carolsue filed a police report. On Monday I am filing criminal charges against Wayward. You see, Wayward wasn't very gracious when she left. It wasn't just that she didn't want to pay, she decided to make a big deal of it.

The house isn't really too-too bad. I can think of three homes I have that were much worse when the tenants left. Except, in those cases, the tenants just left, but didn't take their junk. Wayward took this to a new level. She pulled up the flooring, took the air vents, painted the walls navy blue and took the kitchen sink. There are other things too, but you get the idea.

The major difference between my attitude a week ago and now is I no longer have to use my imagination. I now have concrete facts. And, with those facts I can move forward. The waiting really is the toughest part. Waiting wrecks havoc on the imagination. It causes all sorts of unnecessary stress. Usually my imagination is worse than the reality. This time it wasn't the case, but as Carolsue pointed out, it isn't the end of the world. After all, I have two different families clamoring for this house. A month from now, this will be something I will probably laugh about. I hope.

I have insurance. I have the law on my side. My own experiences have thickened my skin and strengthened my stomach lining. I have a business partner who is an experienced landlord and knows stuff like this happens. Even if the courts don't catch up with her, Divine retribution will.


Where the kitchen sink was supposed to be.

A Week in the Life

Neighbor 114

E-mailed me today wanting a dossier on the new tenants moving into Trusted's former home. I am sure he meant well. He was tickled to find out the new tenant comes with their own yard guy.

The Bee Whisperer

The bees are gone. The shrub is gone. The hive was new, the comb was small. Both are good things. And, he didn't need to bee suit. His dignity is intact.

The Smiths

Monday's problem.

Wayward

This one has taxed my good nature beyond belief. As soon as I can find something lighthearted in the whole situation--or if enough time passes that this isn't horrifying--I will write about it. For now, I need prayers for strength.

The Latest Buzz

Well, the yellow jackets aren't. They are bees. And, they are nesting quite nicely at Wayward's former home. I am floored. Wayward has small children. Between the bees and the jungle backyard, it couldn't have been a safe environment for her girls.

The bee dilemma isn't as simple as just getting rid of the things. There are several steps involved beforehand. First, it requires a formal comprehension of the Southern calendar--which I don't have. I still haven't figured out how long "for a spell" happens to be. Such as the exterminator saying, "You sit tight for a spell, and I will get over there in due time."

Then I am required to convey urgency to the soon-to-be-hired-exterminator in a way that I am certain they grasp. It goes like this: the county is fining me for the jungle of a back yard. I can't get the back yard cleaned up until the bees are gone (and I find a new lawn guy).

Oh, it also requires sorting through several know-it-all types to find one competent and reasonably priced person to handle this. You know, just like finding anyone you want working for you. In this case, some of the know-it-all types have been burned by out-of-town landlords before and they haven't forgotten the ones who did them wrong. I am required to listen to their tales of woe before they tell me yes, they will look into my situation. Or, no they won't.

The one thing I can say for certain with my experience in Birmingham, being out of town, many vendors want payment up front or won't work with me at all. I have more than once overnighted a check before the plumber/gas company/title officer will do the work. If they will bill me it is only because I dropped the right name or I have already proven myself.

So, my one hour bee removal research excursion has taken four days. And I still have the bees.

Bee Guy 1: arrives and tells me "Yes ma'am, they are bees." He does tell me it looks like they are aggressive (Calvin may have mentioned this) and there are a lot of them. He informs me the hive is in the eave and behind a very large shrub. This overgrown shrub is impeding #1's ability to get to the bees. Apparently, he needs me to cut the shrub before he can get to them. I explain to him the logistics. I am out of town. I don't have anyone available to cut it down. Can they not work around the shrub or perhaps cut it down themselves? After all, I am not emotionally attached to the shrub. No they can't. Not without a bee suit.

"You are a bee exterminator and you don't have a bee suit?" I ask.

He replied, "No Ma'am, why would I?"

Bee Guy #2: I call and ask if he has bee protective gear. Yes he does. But, he is too busy to get out there for a few weeks. How busy could this guy possibly be? Every single bee is living at MY house. He recommends Bee Guy #3.

Bee Guy #3: Tells me he is a former Marine. And, then tells me he doesn't need a bee suit. Yes, he has one, but his buddies make fun of him when he wears it. I don't get it. I thought Marines were tough enough to handle a little ribbing from their friends. Aren't they put in much more dangerous situations? Did he worry about what his friends said when he wore his Kevlar vest? Are his buddies going to be in my backyard? I tell him there is a big shrub in the way, that doesn't seem to phase him. I explain that I am told the bees are somewhat aggressive, he still is undeterred. He is the Bee Whisperer.

What he does want is keys for the inside to see if the bees perhaps built their comb inside the interior wall. Holy cow! In the wall?! That was a new one to me. Yes, definitely check this out. Thank you very much. Bee guys 1 and 2 didn't mention this. And, they were going to charge more.

Except getting keys is ANOTHER side quest. You see, Mr. H., one of my two process servers, met the lock smith at the house on Monday. Mr. H. was going to give the keys to Former Tenant #2 on Saturday morning. Meanwhile, Mr. H., had surgery Tuesday. Mr. H. doesn't live anywhere near this house. I don't know how this exactly happened but someone close to Mr. H., or Mr. H. himself, did manage to drive all the way back over there to drop off the keys. For all his trouble with this side quest, Mr. H. tells me I owe him a cup of coffee when I see him next.

So, very early Friday morning, former-Marine-turned-Bee-Guy-#3 will be there braving the elements to send the bees to their great reward. Hopefully.

I Can't Make This Stuff Up, Folks

I was recently asked if the stuff I write about is true.

Yep. it really is.

I really did have my former real estate agent tell off my tenant.

I really did have a tenant never move in because she found out the day she got the keys she had cancer (she is fine now, but living somewhere else).

I really did have an air conditioning unit catch fire.

I really did have a tenant--unbenownst to me--try to get the house rezoned for horses.

I really did have a potential renter go into a catatonic state because she didn't have the deposit money.

I really did have a well-meaning neighbor get into a nasty argument with a potential renter.

I really have gone through several handymen.

I really do hate tax season.

My bookkeeper really is that patient.

And, there is tons more.

Welcome to reality blogging. Writing is my therapy. Writing keeps me sane helps put things in perspective. And, it is cheaper than amaretto.

I Really Do Feel For Them

With the exception of Wayward, I hate kicking people out. It never gets easier. I don't care how much they owe me. They are still people.

I once evicted a mother and her three week old baby. There is probably a special place in hell for me for putting a newborn on the street. Even though I know intellectually it had to happen, it still bothers me. I am sure that mother found a place for her family. I hope they are somewhere happier now, and life is better. Living for free is stealing--and I understand the business side of this. But, forcibly removing someone from their home always pains me a bit.

Mr. Smith is still negotiating. Actually, he doesn't have an audience. I am reminded of the footage of Saddam Hussein going to his execution, saying something along the lines of, "Wait, wait. You have this all wrong." I am not making light of any man's demise. But, there is an interesting dynamic when someone is backed into a corner, what lengths they will go to in their final moments, out of self preservation. Mr. Smith is no exception.

I have gotten extremely pitiful e-mails from him in this past two weeks. He was told by my attorney not to contact me. That hasn't stopped him. I don't know if I were in his shoes, if it would have stopped me. I have not responded to him for a variety of reasons. First, I cannot seem to communicate with him without loosing my dignity. Second, there really is nothing left to say. Pay or move.

His last e-mail--which offered a payment plan, got me thinking about letting him stay. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized it would never work. if he hasn't paid thus far, why would a payment plan be any different. And, it would just prolong the inevitable.

Mr. Smith used some unusual tactics in this last note. Aside from the unrealistic payment plan, he pointed out that I don't like vacant homes. I don't, but he is unaware that I have become used to them. Besides vacant homes leave promise for paying renters. He also made a point to say some very flattering things right out of the play book.

And, he even told me about all the great things he has done for me. This little gem in particular caught my eye: "You know how protective I have been over you. I did not tell some people about (your program) because I did not think they would pay." Very kind of him. But, even if he did tell these folks about my company, I probably would have figured out they were bums all by myself.

Please understand, I am not dogging Mr. Smith. (I only do that when I talk to him because he drives me bonkers.) I feel for him. I feel for his family. I can't imagine how aweful this is for he and his wife. He is about to lose his home. All the e-mails and phone calls in the world won't change this at this point. The level of stress in his marriage must be beyond compare. His young children must feel the angst. This kind of heartburn affects everything. It saddens me. It really does.

I don't wish any ill will on the poor guy. And, I hope by getting him out of my home, perhaps he can find a less expensive alternative. Maybe he will learn about money management. Maybe this experience will strengthen his resolve. I really do wish these things for the man. But, it is best if he learns these lessons soon and learns them elsewhere.

Wayward Update

So, how is Wayward? Wayward is gone. The sheriff arrived today and put her stuff on the curb. Actually, I suspect she beelined out of there this past weekend. I know she was there until at least last Wednesday.

This week the fun begins. I hear she painted a couple of walls black. I hear the carpet needs to be cleaned. I hear she wasn't very tidy. And, of course there is that whole yellow jacket mess in the back yard. Which reminds me, I need to find a new lawn guy. But, Wayward's mess is nothing compared to what others have done. Wayward has nothing on former tenants when it comes to terrible housekeeping and being totally angry with me, the landlord. Nah, Wayward is an amateur on that end.

The good news is Wayward wasn't running a meth lab. She didn't take the toilets and other home essentials with her. There is a judgement against her and I know where she works. So, now it is Mr. D's turn for fun.

Oh yes, I have a potential tenant all lined up.

Can You Really Blame Him?

About a year ago--when life was simple and I only had one vacant home--I met Calvin. Calvin owns a lawn service and he happened to be down the street from said empty property. I needed the lawn taken of. He had a lawn mower. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

In the course of the past year, I have called with random jobs, all related to yard maintenance. And Calvin would sweetly follow through, fax me his bill and then call to make sure I did indeedy get the invoice.

Calvin is a one-man mowing service. He has a wife and young children. He makes enough to support his family. He charges reasonable rates, at least compared to what I find in Phoenix. I didn't really thoroughly shop around Birmingham for lawn care, other than to call some landscaping services and see they are much more pricey.

Last month I asked Calvin to please take a pilgrimage over to my house in Leeds to take care of the yard. I was aware it was a bit of a drive. I had no idea the condition of the yard. Calvin called me to let me know the yard was pretty awful. By the time I got there, I found the yard in pristine condition.

Sadly, not only was the yard a challenge for Calvin, but so were the neighbors--who didn't seem to realize the Civil War ended years ago. The rednecks in that neighborhood quickly came out of their rat holes and called the police on the guy for trespassing. Calvin didn't complain. I was mortified. In fact, I found out about poor Calvin's humiliation from the Leed's police. (And, for the record, the police knew the neighbors were trouble and Calvin was gold).

Yesterday I found out there was a notice from the county at Wayward's home telling me I had 24 hours to clean up the yard. Of course this was news to me, as Wayward neglected to share this tidbit. So, I called Calvin and asked for a miracle. What I got was confirmation the weeds were six feet high (the person who found that note at Wayward's house, while checking on Wayward the Deadbeat, had told me about the weeds yesterday). And, bless him, he gave me a volume discount.

Now being the desert girl that I am, when I hear six feet weeds, I don't think critters. I think weeds. Dirt. Annoyance. And, maybe a little accidental xeriscape shade. However, poor Calvin got a swarm of yellow jackets. And, while running away from them, he tore through the front yard, into the street and ran into a car. The driver--thank God--was going slowly.

Calvin is ok. Nothing broken. However, it turns out Calvin is allergic to yellow jacket stings. Turns out, he isn't litigious. Turns out he fired me. "Ma'am," he said, with a polite Southern drawl, "you have crazy houses."

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

This has been a yawn week. That doesn't mean there isn't anything going on. It just hasn't been newsworthy. Or, if it has been somewhat newsworthy, I have written it before.

For example. Mr. Smith is still renegotiating. My attorney asked about him calling my bluff. I am not bluffing. He is paying or going. I am clear on this and not feeling any more angst. Though, I have gotten to the point where I feel sorry for him. I would like to feel sorry for him while he is living somewhere else. All seriousness folks, this guy and his family could use a few prayers if you are feeling generous. I have been asking Him for guidance and direction for this family. I can only imagine the stress in that house and how it must be affecting all of them. It can't be peaceful.

My tenant who just won't leave. Still won't leave. The sheriff should be there next week. I hope.

My tenant I have been working with, I am still working with. We are dancing around deadlines. The usual. I have all my reinforcements in place, waiting for me to make the next call.

You know, yawn stuff.

I used to find the mundane issues I am seeing this week as annoying as the big-ticket items I am currently dealing with. Things like, "My rent will be late" (I gathered). "Your grass needs to be cut." (yep). "I sent you an invoice" (it has been forwarded to my bookkeeper). Now I find them to be a relief from the more intense and more bizarre.

Sitting Pretty

Whatever happened to Wayward? Well, she is still there. Living comfortably in MY home. She is babysitting the copper plumbing and the air conditioning unit. I have a variety of people checking on her every week.

Someday, somehow, some way, Wayward will find another landlord to mooch from. Actually from what I understand we are currently waiting on the sheriff's office to do their job. This particular assignment was given to them on July 8. You see, the sheriff's department has two teams of folks who go out to the homes of people like Wayward. They bring a couple of inmates and a few trash bags and empty out the place.

So far, Wayward hasn't had the pleasure of meeting the sheriff's deadbeat patrol. They are currently two week's backlogged with friends of Wayward. And, I hear Wayward's turn to meet these nice folks might happen in my life time. I have called around to see if I can hire my own posse to take care of this, but no. It has to be someone from the Sheriff's office. They have to use their own Hefty bags. I am sure there are less legal ways to pursuade her to leave. But, that really isn't my style.

There is a woman who calls me every Monday to see if this house is vacant. She hasn't seen the inside but she wants first dibs. Now, if I could only get Wayward to cooperate.

Games People Play

There are so many varieties to the game Mr. Smith is playing. What pains me the most is that Mr. Smith thinks I don't know what he is doing. I realize I am up against the smartest man in the world and matching wits against Mr. Smith taxes my meager intellect. But, here I am. Sadly, Mr. Smith isn't the only one who does this. He is the most blatant. And, I really do believe he thinks I am simple-minded.

The game dynamics are always the same. No matter who I am up against. These people didn't invent this game. Neither did I. The play book has been around for ages. To make my life easier, I picked up my own leather-bound copy at a second-hand bookstore. Here is the way the game works.

1. I call, They promise. Nothing happens.

2. I call. They don't take my calls/e-mails/smoke signals.

3. I follow up following the with the rules of our contract. Generally this involves a process server. This gets their attention. They call with excuses as to why this situation happened to begin with. It isn't their fault. They ask for special concessions. They promise reasonable things. I agree.

4. When it is time to deliver on their promise. They renegotiate because something came up. It isn't their fault. According to the play book, my role is to recognize they are trying to do right. So, I am supposed to go along with this new plan.

5. It is now time to deliver on their new promise. See #4.

6. More time goes by, they don't hear from me (because according to the play book I am fat, dumb and happy with the status quo. After all, they have outsmarted me. Or, at the very least, they think they have bought time). Sometimes they will even throw me another bone. Like a check, partial payment or a sweet letter telling me how wonderful I am and they will do what they promised at some later obscure date.

But, there is still that pesky contract. And, contracts are there for when things go wrong--never when they go right. So, I am not calling them. I am calling the professionals who handle these types of things. And, I no longer work with the game-players. They get to leave. They get their wages garnished. They will pay.

There are variations to this cat and mouse game. Such as ignoring the lawyer's letter and contacting me directly, like nothing is wrong. Sending me notes, telling me they are surprised I never received thier payments (they apparently have forgotten we have already gone through steps 1 through 6). There are even tactics like forgetting to sign or date the check. Sometimes I do play along, but generally it is only to suit my purposes.

I recognize the way the game is played. I can generally catch it in the early stages--not that I can do anything about it until we hit the non-payment stage. But, at least I have a bit of head's up so I can dust off my play book.

There Are Good Things Too

Although I write about the bizarre, weird and annoying, there really are good things that happen with my accidental business. The good experiences aren't always interesting and often it is too personal to write about. But, here are some examples of the good stuff.

1. I have met an incredible number of terrific people along the way. I have one former tenant who has been keeping in touch since he left my home more than two years earlier. He has been known to run odd jobs for me. And, sometimes he will just e-mail me to say hello. Sometimes he just sends me a note just to discuss baseball.

2. I have heard some pretty powerful personal success stories. Take Terry for example. She called me once to tell me she opened her first checking account. Everything up until that point in her 42 years had been paid by cash. And, it had never occurred to her to open a checking account until I had mentioned it a year earlier. The first person she called to tell about this milestone was me, her landlord. When Terry later bought her house from me she said, "I never thought I could own a home, now I know I can do anything."

3. I have learned a lot about human nature. Good and bad. I have had a crash course. I prefer the good, but the bad stories (and there are a few) help make me a better business woman, better landlord and overall better person. I am continuing to learn and grow from the lives of others. And, I certainly see things very differently than I did even a year earlier. My moral compass knows where to point.

4. I have learned the South doesn't deserve a good portion of their stereotypes. I have yet to meet an inbred, single-tooth yokel. What I have met are some fascinating folks, with fascinating lives. People in the South are proud, outspoken and (for the most part) know right from wrong. They are instinctive and will do business with a handshake if they believe in you. Growing up in the city, I find all of this is strange to me. But, I have been given many opportunities from those who have believed in me. And, hopefully I haven't let them down.

5. I have gotten uplifting encouragement from unusual places. I have had people offer to pray for me, I have been sent bible verses. I even had one tenant read my fortune with tarot cards! The kindness from the folks I have met is absolutely amazing. Last week, in the midst of some craziness. I heard from one of my tenants. She wrote me to say thank you and offered a few other personal words that just blew me away. What did I do? I answered an e-mail, giving her advice she sought out from me--a virtual stranger. I would have given this same advice to anyone else who had asked. But, she took the time to write and thank me.

I am floored by the genuine sincerity of the people I have met in the past few years--not just in Birmingham, but all over. I have been sent first communion invitations and baby pictures. My rewards may not be financial (at the moment). But I have been given some pretty wonderful gifts.

D.F.W.L.Y., Attorneys at Law

D.F.W.L.Y., Attorneys at Law, doesn't bother with putting the names of partners in their title. Instead, they just tell it like it is: D.F.W.L.Y., stands for Don't Fool With Lawyers Y'all. They are an exceptional firm, located in a stately building in Central Birmingham. And, one of these lawyers handles my evictions.

To give you and idea of what I pay, D.F.W.L.Y. has annual billable hours equivalent to a small oil-rich Middle Eastern country's gross domestic product.

A few months ago, my bookkeeper and I were talking over the phone. I was mindlessly opening bills, reporting them to her. All of the sudden the sound of a strangled cat left my throat.

"Are you there?" She asks.

I whimper.

Realization hits her. Emphatically, she accuses, "You opened D.F.W.L.Y. didn't you."

I whimper again.

Exasperated, she starts in, "You have no business reading that bill! Were you wearing asbestos gloves? Did you at least have on eye protection?" The questions are rhetorical, because she and I both know she owns the flack jacket. Panic sets in, "Listen to me, and listen good. You put that bill back in the envelope and step away. Do you hear me? Walk away."

Ok, that wasn't exactly how it went. I whimpered a bit more than I let on here. I may have shed a tear or two. And, at her suggestion, my bookkeeper does get the bills with the envelope intact these days. I can say to her out of the clear blue, "How much was it?" and she will know I am talking about D.F.W.L.Y.

So, why do I use them? I happen to like my attorney and her delightful paralegal quite a bit. They are both good at what they do. That kind of competency is painfully pricey. But, financing my attorney's son's college fund isn't the only reason I stay. I have called around to other firms to see what I could find.

I spoke with one lawyer who summed it up. After telling him who I use he said, "Even I can't afford D.F.W.L.Y.!" Then, when I explained what I needed from him, he was quiet a moment and then said, "Wow. You have a lot going on. The reputation of the lawyer you are using is a good one. You better stick with her."

The Right Stuff

So, I get this call from Mr. Wright today. He loved my vacant home. He thought it would be the perfect place for he and his family and would I please consider lowering the rent $100?

He then went on to tell me how great the house looked and how he couldn't wait to move in. In his next breath, he informed me the house was "absolutely filthy." Would they be responsible for cleaning it? And, more importantly, would I be willing to deduct money from the deposits for them to cover all his trouble? After a bit of probing, he told me "absolutely filthy" meant one wall still hadn't been painted (Former Tenant #2 told me she hadn't finished it yet) and the laundry room had dirt on it where the washer and dryer were living until yesterday. I confirmed this was his idea of "absolutely filthy" and told him NO, I would not deduct hundreds off the deposit.

Mr. Wright then verified that he loved the neighborhood. But, expressed concern about safety, because he has two daughters and the neighborhood doesn't "feel" safe. The example he provide was about a home at the beginning of the subdivision (about a half mile away) that looked seedy. I suggested, I, as a parent, could appreciate his concerns and encouraged him to check out the crime statistics for the area just to make sure this would be a safe place to live.

At this point, I suggested this might not be the perfect place for Mr. and Mrs. Wright, and I would certainly understand if they opted not to put an application in. After all, they didn't seem all that impressed.

Mr. Wright assured me they really did "just love" the house. But, would I be willing to consider giving him a break on the rent for him doing some unnamed odd jobs, which he assures me he is more than qualified to do. He listed about six things at this home that he could do to make it more appealing.

Appealing to whom? The next potential renter? Because Mr. Wright is definitely Mr. Wrong.

I Just Can't Shut Up

Poor Mr. D. He just brings out the bossy big sister in me. He is such a nice guy. And, I am sure he is one wildly-competent attorney too. But, none of that matters, because I can't seem to stop telling him what to do.

I have gotten to the point where I am afraid to call him, for fear my mouth will open, give marching orders and he--like the good Southern man that he is--will politely listen. He will then hang up and make a note to bill me for another hour for having to endure me for ten minutes.

He is currently working to find two past deadbeats who owe me money. So, ignoring all of the skip-tracing technology at his fingertips, as well as all of the database search services he has available to him, I suggest him maybe he ought to call the churches of these deadbeats and ask for a current phone number of their biggest deadbeat congregation member. I can even provide him with these churches, because most everyone I speak to in Alabama is very proud of their church affiliation--and they tell me.

I do realize how stupid my suggestion sounds. Mr. D. realizes it too. But, his mother raised him right. Instead, he says, "That's a great idea. I'll get right on that." With that, he hangs up and upps his billable hours.

He Must Go

Mr. Smith brings out the ugly in me. Today was my third conversation with him in a week. And, the third time I lost my temper talking to him. Yelling isn't dignified, but for some reason, I turn into a raving lunatic every time he calls me.

What it really boils down to is I expect him to do what he says. Which is amusing because he never does what he says. And, I know this. I am like Charlie Brown, waiting for Lucy to hold the football still.

Much to my delight, I called the lawyer and started the inevitable process. I should have done this months ago. Mr. Smith can go annoy someone else for a while.

Master of the House

So, you want someone to rent your house? Tenants pick the landlord just like they pick the house. They want a landlord who is going to provide a clean, functioning home. As a landlord, you have rights and responsibilities. I actually consider myself a foremost expert on this topic. And, heaven knows I have made my share of mistakes. Here is what I have learned the hard way.

1. You, the landlord and owner of your home, are in charge. This is the essence of being an effective landlord. They are beholden to you. Don't forget this and, more importantly, don't let them forget this. You owe them a place to stay. They aren't doing you the favor. Your tenants don't have to like you, but they have to respect your role.

2. Treat the people who rent from you with dignity. Most people don't rent for tbe best of reasons. They may have come on hard times through divorce, death, a bad hand dealt by life or their own sheer stupidity. The fact of the matter is, most renters aren't doing it by choice. They, like everyone else, are working for their betterment.

3. Pay your bills. You have a contract with the bank. It is your obligation to pay your mortgage. I have sadly talked to four different families this weekend alone who are having to move because their landlords are in foreclosure. One of these tenants told me she will expect to see evidence the landlord is paying the mortgage before she agrees to sign a lease. Don't be a deadbeat, it makes all of us look bad.

4. A rental home is a business. Keep it that way. Do not invite your tenants over. Do not visit them socially. Things down the road might get ugly. And, it is easier to sort out the ugliness when there is little emotional attachment. If things don't get ugly and they move out, you can then invite them over for the summer barbecue.

5. If you give them a break, only do it to suite your purposes. And, if you give them a break, do it only once. Giving someone a break because you feel sorry for them will shift the dynamic of your relationship. You are in charge. Always.

6. Fix what is broken. Do it immediately. And, fix it correctly.

7. It is your responsibility to your community, neighbors and property values to find quality tenants.

8. When you find good tenants keep them happy. You want them to sign another lease; they want grass in the back yard. Do you want to spend two months with a vacant house? Good tenants are worth it.

9. Not everything a tenant wants should be done. I had a tenant who asked if they could rip out the carpet and install hardwood floors. No. If the renovation didn't go right, or they started but didn't finish the job, I was responsible in the long run. And, I certainly didn't want to pay for hardwoods in a blue-collar lower end home. Conversely, if I have fabulous tenants who want to stay four more years, would I consider hardwoods in that same house? You bet.

10. Abide by the four corners rule. If it is between the four corners of a piece of paper, it is legitimate. So, get it in writing. For example, if you say you will consider a rent reduction in exchange for them handling pool maintenance, write down exactly what you want them to do.

11. Bad tenants aren't worth the trouble. If they don't have the money for rent, invite them to leave. Don't mess with this. Get rid of them immediately. And, don't take their calls once you decide to do this. This isn't like a normal headache. This is like a knitting needle poking you in the eyeball. Move on and don't look back. I have learned is I always get better tenants each time I turn over a home.

12. Keep your word. Always.

Don't Give Me a Reason To Write About You

I write a lot about the bad tenants I run into. But, the majority of the folks I rent to are actually good tenants. Or, they start out as good tenants, and then they give me minor heart failure and fodder for my blog. At any rate, good tenants don’t make for drama. They are primarily ignored except for once a month when I am holding their rent check thinking, Oh yea… that person does rent the house on Elm Street…

So, if you are looking to rent a home, here are a few pointers as to how to make your landlord happy. A happy landlord is more willing to cut you a break now and then and not raise your rent when your lease is up. A happy landlord is more willing to fix a broken widget—even if you are the one who broke it and they know it.

1. Pay on time. This will absolve a multitude of sins in the landlord’s eyes. You can keep your grass longer and maybe sneak a roommate in without the landlord paying too close attention if they are getting the rent on time. A place to live is pretty much a basic need. If for some reason you can't pay on time. Tell your landlord prior to the rent due date. Give a quick, and legitimate reason why (such as rent is due on Thursday, and you get paid on Friday) and then suck it up and pay the late fees. You caused the rent to be late, pay what you owe.

2. You cannot withhold rent because you are mad at your landlord. Whatever you are upset about probably doesn't cost a month's rent. And, in most states, judges frown on this type of thing. If you want to look legitimate go through the same process as everyone else.

3. Fix your own problems. If a towel bar falls off, put it back. There is no reason to call the landlord for the minor things. If you broke it just fix it. Leave the big-ticket items for us. You handle the loose door knob.

4. Unless the house has caught fire, call the landlord during business hours. Every potential non-landlord I have run into, talks about the same cliche'd dreaded call at 2 a.m. because the toilet overflowed. This is what stops them from investing. The middle of the night plumbing SOS has never happened to me. It has never happened to any landlord I have ever met. That said, we would appreciate if you would wait to tell us about the leaky faucet until at least 8 a.m. There really isn't much we can do before that anyway.

5. Clean up your own mess when you move out. We didn't ask you to bring all that stuff with you. Cart it out when you go. And, know if we are called for a future housing reference, we will gladly tell your potential landlords about this.

6. You are responsible for your pets and guests.

7. Get along with the neighbors. Here's a secret. I have probably met your neighbors. And, they will call.

8. Don't assume. You want a ceiling fan in your bedroom. Ask first. Most likely it won't be a problem. But, we don't take it well when we are handed a receipt for something in our home we may or may not have wanted. Or, we might have had a less expensive solution for the same outcome.

9. If your lease is for twelve months, don't decide to buy a home after six months. You have a contract. You are responsible for that contract. It isn't that expensive for a landlord to enforce it. Collections attorneys work on a contingency basis. We will get our money.

10. Stay in touch. If we have a way to contact you, we are happy. We sometimes need to pass along vital information. Give us a way to do it. So, if your e-mail stopped working, if you suddenly don't have a cell phone and your home phone doesn't have an answering machine, we won't go to a lot of effort to help you when you have a problem if we have had to jump through hoops to find you.

So, you see, quiet tenants aren’t necessarily good tenants. The key is abiding by the lease agreement and communication when something needs to be fixed. Landlords understand things happen. We are human. We are more willing to work with you if you give us a reason to do so.

Do You Have What it Takes?

It seems finding quality tenants is a universal problem. And, I do mean universal. I am sure there is a frustrated landlord somewhere on Planet Zapwax who is just groaning as they show their house to another set of deadbeats, wondering if great renters can really be found. They can. I promise.

I am currently working in my other job, helping two different families find tenants for their home. In both cases, the families are calling with tons of questions, wanting to extol on my wisdom. And, in one one of these cases, I am the one screening the calls from would-be tenants.

So, today's column is about being a good prospective tenant. Please note, being a good tenant is a whole different yet-to-be-written column. This just covers getting the lease. After all, you may not even want the house. But, I guarantee, if you follow these simple tips, the landlord might just call you back and ask you to rent their home. And, for the record, I have called potential tenants back and asked what it would take for them to rent from me. I have never regretted this.

1. When you call about my home, leave your name and phone number. This shows some basics: like you have acceptable communication skills. I never return a call where the caller doesn't leave a name. I am the landlord. I am in charge. I won't get in a power struggle now over telephone etiquette just to have it escalate if something goes wrong once you move in.

2. When you call, remember your manners. I once told a man I spoke with for 30 seconds I would not rent to him. He roared, "that's discrimination! I'll sue you." I explained, "I don't know what religion you are, where you are from, what color your skin is. I don't know if you have a disability. But, I do know you are one of the rudest people I have ever met, and I won't subject myself to this once a month when the rent is due." Life is too short.

3. When viewing the home, arrive on time. Don't waste my time. Don't make excuses for being late. Don't expect the landlord won't notice. Your ability to comprehend deadlines now says a lot when the rent comes due. If someone else is showing the home instead of the landlord, they are probably doing it as a major favor. So, assume they have something better to be doing and don't keep them waiting.

4. How you treat your kids and your car is a good indicator of how you will treat my home.

5. How your kids act in my home, will tell me how they will treat my home. As a parent, my children know they are to wipe their feet before entering, stay with me unless given permission otherwise and they better have their best manners on at all times. They can--and do--act like crazed monkeys on their own time. Do your kids know this? Do you enforce this? If not, please don't think I will rent to you.

6. Dress for success. This isn't something you necessarily need to wear a coat and tie to do. Nice jeans are absolutely acceptable. Be clean, neat, hide your piercings and keep your tattoos covered.

7. The most information I will ever get from you will be in the time you turn in your application to the time I approve you for the lease. Yes, I want to know factual and relevant data, the names and ages of your kids, what kinds of cars you drive or what type of dog fluffy happens to be (and, if you say poodle on your application and six weeks later I see a pit bull that answers to fluffy, expect all hell will break loose because my lease covers this and it is grounds for eviction). Your life story is very important to me and speaks volumes you aren't aware you are communicating. A long-drawn out saga about how you lost your job six months ago, why you and your spouse are separating or how you need an extra room because sometimes you and your boyfriend have swing parties tells me what I have already guessed about you. You aren't for me. I am pleased if you tell me this, because it makes my job easier.

8. Part 1: Financial issues for you, are financial issues for me. And, I am going to run a credit check and a background check. So, disclose. I understand things happen. There are reasons people file bankruptcy. Homes are foreclosed upon because situations happen. And, I won't necessarily hold it against you. But, if I find out from your credit report and not from you, I will wonder what else you might have neglected to mention. Keep in mind, as a landlord, I understand you still need a place to live even though the bank has taken your home. So, if you can show me probable reasons to rent to you (such as income, references and additional credit history), I might be able to overlook a foreclosure.

9. Part 2: Financial issues for you, are financial issues for me. If you are late on your car payment, credit cards and other consumer debt and you don't have a good reason (and going on vacation isn't a good reason), I won't rent to you. How you manage your monthly expenses speaks volumes to me.

10. Ever been evicted? You won't be renting from me. Period. This is different from a foreclosure--which may or may not elict sympathy from me--because with an eviction, there is a landlord somewhere you have already burned. And, if you do it once, it is easier the second time.

11. Never mention needing the deposits broken down over a month or two. What you are asking is for us to start out on unequal footing. I am looking for quality tenants the way you are looking for a quality landlord. You aren't it.

12. If I can't read the application, I am not renting to you. I have arthritis in my fingers. I know when it is flaring up I have terrible handwriting. But, it is much better than my husband's chicken scratch. So, if I want something to look neat and legible, I go slower. You too can find a solution to filling out an application so I can read it.

13. If you manage to overlook a good chunk of the application, I will assume I can expect this type of flakiness once a month. Go bug someone else. I would rather keep my home vacant a week or two more than start down this road.

14. If you are turned down for the lease, I may not tell you why. It could be as simple as I rented the house to someone else just like you and they turned their application in first. It could be because I found out you are an ax murderer. My reasons are my own.

So, if you really want my home, show me what it takes.

The Go-To Girl

In the past month the following has happened:

1. While I was in Alabama, I got a call about Trusted's house. After talking to Tiffany for a few minutes, I told her it would not be a good idea to rent it. Yes, Tiffany could afford the rent. But, Tiffany could not afford the rent, utilities and the overall upkeep costs that comes with a larger home. What Tiffany needed was a smaller, modest place until she finished college. As much as I would be happy to help her out, I wanted to see her succeed.

Twenty minutes later, Tiffany called me back to ask me for advice on money management. She lamented that she knows many women who look for the easy way, such as government hand-outs, instead of earning a living for her and her children. She was angry, because she was working and going to school and wanted to make her life better. She wanted a better neighborhood and all of the goodies that come with hard work or government handouts. As we talked she confided that what she was really looking for was someone else to resolve her situation.

In reality, her situation was fine. It would take time. She was studying to be a nurse. She had a decent paying job. She budgeted and saved. She was raising her daughters in a way she could be proud of, instead of caving and going on welfare--which was an option if she quit her job. She had choices. We all have choices. I told her this, and she agreed.

2. Jack, my agent, called me a few weeks ago looking for a good air conditioning repair service. As Jack grew up in Birmingham, has been in the real estate market for twenty years AND has a fifty year old home, I was surprised he didn't know anyone.

3. My attorney e-mailed Jack last week wondering if I had any homes for rent, as he knew a guy who knew a guy who needed a place to live. Sadly, it didn't work out. Because anyone Jon knows or knows a guy who knows a guy, is most likely quality.

4. Yesterday I got a call from Angela. Apparently, her best friend's cousin rents a home from me. Angela rents her own home from someone else. She called because she wanted advice from a landlord's perspective. And, what did I think? And, what should the landlord do in her situation?

I would like to say this is unusual, but I could fill up volumes with stories of this nature. I have been called by tenants looking for ways to clean up their credit report. I have been asked advice on everything from starting a business to domestic violence. I have even been sought about matters of the heart. And, I even got a call from one tenant who wanted to know if I knew how to get to Colombiana, AL, a small town of 1,000 thirty miles south of Birmingham. Not only did I know where it was, I knew how to get there.

All these from folks I really don't know and don't know me. I don't know why someone in Arizona is top of mind for questions of these nature. But, apparently for some, I am the go-to girl.

Mr. D is a Quick Study

During my last visit to Alabama, I met with a collections attorney. The first thing that struck me was how young he was. If I had passed him on the street, I would not have figured he had been out of law school for six years with his own practice, but instead was just getting his driving permit.

Mr. D. was very nice and he and I hit it off immediately. Of course he asked me the standard question, "why Alabama." And, I gave him the much longer version of my pat answer, "Why indeed." The longer version includes boring things like the cost of the house to rent ratio and some other inane things of that nature.

Somewhere in our chat, Mr. D. then started telling me about his 1950s home he is remodeling. He is quite proud of his house. He bought low, in a great area. He has upgraded and remodeled. And, he naively declares, he will live there until the day he dies.

I didn't politely hold my tongue. I didn't even titter. No, I belted out laughter like I was in the audience of a Bill Engvall show (and in my defense, this was the day after I had run into Teresa and my tact hadn't returned).

"You aren't married are you?" I asked his puzzled face.

"No, why?"

I just smiled knowingly. "You won't be living there until the day you die." I then went on to explain how this will not be the case, unless he manages to hit the jackpot and his adoring future wife really doesn't mind the home he picked--without her--he can pretty much expect to be changing residences sometime in the first few years after he gets married. And, he will never hear the end of it until he does.

He considers this for a moment. "Well, I will make sure to let her decorate it any way she wants, that should make up for it." I just smiled, watching his expression change as he finally realized what he had just said. No, this would not be the only home he ever owns.

"Well," he finally said, "I am paying my house off early, so I will have a large down payment for the place she picks."

Their Lucky Day

I caved. Actually, it was a "sound business decision" according to my dear husband. But, it really boiled down to this: half a loaf of bread is better than nothing. And, as far as I was concerned, I already have enough major priorities this month. They can wait until August.

So, I made a deal with the Smiths. It required me to waste a good portion of my monthly allocation of cell minutes and two hours of my life I will never get back hearing the long drawn out saga. That boiled down to: come Tuesday, there will be a check for half of what they owe me on my doorstep. If not, I will just kick them out anyway.

But, here's the secret: I wouldn't have moved forward with foreclosing any sooner than Tuesday anyway.

Living in a Tent with a 60" High-Def TV Seems Pointless

I find tenants who become friendly with me might as well put up a billboard telling me they will eventually fail. They want me to get to know them, like them and be willing to overlook minor transgressions. Early on, I did.

And, I would say 99 percent of the time getting to know a tenant ends ugly. Even ones where they have the best of intentions, ultimately, playing the friendly card ends in me asking them to leave. There are exceptions to this. In fact, right now I am working with a woman who I would like to see break this pattern. But, I know better and I am prepared for the worst.

A couple of years ago I met the Smiths. Mr. Smith chatted away about how great they were, how he could sing and how they so wanted a chance to be in my program. He barraged me with extraneous information about his family, sent me pictures of his kids and talked me up every chance he got.

Though this kind of attention was sweet, I have to admit, I have always kind of regarded him as a pesky little brother who I wish wouldn't call me. I dreaded hearing from him because I knew it was for some sort of bad news wound around a long-running saga. In fact, I would have traded all the photos of his family for one check arriving without drama. I am sure he has the best of intentions. I am equally sure he has a short term memory deficit when it comes to executing those intentions. He was my handyman for a short time--which if you keep up with this, know how that ended.

I knew I would be going down the foreclosure road with them several months ago. Miraculously they pulled it out. But before pulling it out I got long drawn-out stories that really break down to this: circumstances in his life changed. Yada yada.

Yawn. Everyone's circumstances change.

He paid his mortgage for a reasonably longer period of time too but then fell behind. Finally, after working to get caught up they just stopped. I would feel worse for them if they didn't have a Neptune washer and dryer, a nicer electronic equipment than my husband's and their furniture wasn't top of the line. I am not ridiculing them for their possessions, but I don't see how stuff can be more important than a place to live.

Personally, I would rather hang my wet clothes up outside (and recently did for several weeks) than miss a mortgage payment. I would rather sit on the floor instead of a couch than give my children memories of loosing a home. Who knows, maybe they bought that stuff in a happier time. Maybe their things were gifts. Who am I to judge?

I knew the end was near when they started telling me they sent their payment in, but I never received it. When I would mention I didn't get it, they wouldn't seem the least bit phased. "Oh... my payment didn't make it and the money is in limbo? That's so sad..."

When I think of the sane people in my life, NOBODY I know would sit back and not wonder what happened to a large chunk of cash. They would be stopping payment and raising hell to find out where their money went. When it gets to this point, I know I can foreclose.

The foreclosure process is different than the rental eviction and takes longer. I have to wait longer to serve the deadbeats and there are other legal factors. But, it happens.

Tomorrow, thankfully, the Smiths will answer their door to my process server who will hand them their walking papers. This will start the legalities and I will probably have to wait several more weeks to get everything accomplished. But at least I won't have to hear any more yada yadas.