Keeping Cool with Clay

Friday afternoon, Carolsue called me at 4:20 Alabama time to tell me the house in Fultondale is sans air conditioning. Argh! I wanted to show it this weekend. However, showing a home that doesn't have working air is a tremendous waste of time.

I quickly got off the phone with her and called Clay the AC Guy. Clay left his former company months ago. However, he managed to nab my number on the way out the door. I am pretty grateful for that.

There is a strange phenomena that I have noticed about those who specialize for a living. They remember obscure details related to their occupation. For example, my dermatologist can tell me (from memory) about every mole he has removed in the past six years from my body, what type it was and whether each one was malignant or not.

Clay is just the same with HVAC systems. He remembered the work on the air conditioner he expertly rigged last September. No kidding! The first thing out of his mouth after polite niceties and before we got to the gist of the call was, "How is that air conditioner holding up in your Fultondale home. It was pretty shot last year."

After deliberating, Marty and I have decided to replace the unit. Apparently, a new compressor costs almost as much as a new unit. So, come Monday, the home will have cool air. Marty and I didn't plan for this. But either we can put the air conditioner on now, or we can have Clay use chewing gum and duct tape to make it work and then replace it in a few months.

One of the REALLY nice things about air conditioners in Alabama is the cost. We were recently forced to replace the air conditioner on our personal residence. We are getting the same unit there for 1/3 the cost. Cool.

Mr. Partner and Me

I had lunch with Mr. Partner on Wednesday. The 508s weren't the only thing on the agenda, but of course, it is what we spent the majority of the time discussing. Mr. Partner wanted to make sure I am ok about everything.

Actually, I am. The house couldn't be worse. I think it is pretty much at its maximum for yuckiness. But, we have insurance. It will get straightened out. Who knows, maybe with the insurance claim we will add a basement, another bathroom, an indoor pool and a second story!

It really helps that we are of one mind about the entire thing. It also helps that we went through the nightmare of last summer. It prepared me for this. Make no mistake! This will be a migraine headache. But it is one property. Six homes at the same time is an aneurysm.

There are people I know who, after hearing about the 508 house, say they will only be a landlord if they are close to the property. Mr. Partner mentioned it wouldn't have been any different if we were next door. We wouldn't have been able to do anything until after the damage was done anyway.

I have been told by folks they will never be landlords because of people like the 508s who trashed the house. My advice is, please don't. It is rather unnerving when this kind of damage happens.

Mr. Partner and I don't have the emotional attachment to the home. This isn't a treasured family estate. It is an investment vehicle (or will be again at some later date). But, we see the potential. Real estate investing is risky. It isn't for everyone.

One of the really great parts about our lunch was talking about what was going right. There was a lot of that. We have many other homes that are currently working out. We have good stuff happening. And, that made the 508 home issue easier to swallow.

Picture

If you are standing in the bedroom in the back of the home, you can now look through this hole, peer into the front bedroom and see the front yard. Yes, that tree is in the front yard.

This isn't the worst of what the 508s did, but it is probably enough for those of you on the fence, thinking about toying in rental properties.

Mr. Richards Update

Two weeks ago, Mr. Richards called me to tell me he was sending the money he owed to me. It would be in the mail that day. I had no reason not to believe him because:

1. He took the initiative to call me.
2. He had usually been true to his word.

This time nothing came. I called with little expectations of reaching him to tell him what he already knew: the check didn't come. I didn't expect to hear from him, but I wanted to keep hope alive.

As soon as I got off the phone with Mr. Richard's voice mail, I called Legal Eagle and told her to do her magic. I don't know if he has been served yet or not. But, we all know how that goes.

Given I have the 508 situation on my hands, I am not excited about dealing with Mr. Richard's eviction. I would even be willing to work something out if he came through with some money. Just enough to let him limp along a teensy bit more before I kicked his butt out.

This past weekend I asked Carolsue if she might be willing to go over and have a chat with him. She happens to live directly across the parkway from him. Seriously, she could walk there in as much time as it would take to drive to his house.

Mr. Richards hasn't been home. Carolsue isn't in the business of harassing my tenants anyway. I certainly appreciate the effort, but this isn't what she signed up for.

So, it looks like Mr. Richards is going to leave. I am going to have to pay for Eaglet's first year at Harvard to get rid of him. But, Mr. Richards will pay me back. He's got a job. I know how to find him.

Rolling Forward

Before 8:30 today:

1. I Called the insurance adjuster, left a message.

2. I called an attorney (sadly Legal Eagle has to recuse herself on this one). The attorney said to press charges I needed to call the DA's Office.

3. I called the DA's Office. They told me to call the Magistrate's Office.

4. I called the Magistrate's Office. They told me to call Birmingham Police, homicide division (yes really).

5. I called the Birmingham Police and explained my situation. They put me through to robbery (I just couldn't ask for homicide).

6. The officer listened, told me I didn't have much of a case, offered to pray for me. After my insistence, she put me through to the East Precinct.

7. Sgt. Thomas at the East Precinct was already familiar with the case. She wasn't interested in helping me out. She said, unless I could "prove" the 508s did the damage, there was no case. I explained that Mrs. 508 admitted to me there was a broken window, a hole in the wall (that she told me she was planning on repairing) and an air conditioner that didn't work. Also, she talked with Carolsue this week and admitted she and Mr. 508 may had done the damage, but wanted more time to fix everything and it wouldn't be a problem.

I also explained to Sgt. Thomas we are looking at several thousand dollars worth of repairs. Sgt. Thomas acquiesced. She said once I got the insurance claim filed I could make a supplementary report and file felony charges against the 508s.

That made me feel better. Even nothing has happened of yet.

Hello! Now Please Don't Contact Me

I am in the business of providing a quality home for quality people. There is a contract and an exchange of money. I am fair. I am honest. And sometimes I am even a pushover. I am proud of what I do. I provide a service. I give people a place to live.

Right now, I like all my tenants. Even the ones who owe me money. I haven't always been able to say that.

Through experience, or more likely just through maturity, I have managed to separate me-the-human from me-the-business-owner. I can be friendly and know that there are times my tenants are being friendly because they may want a favor down the road. Sometimes tenants are this way. Sometimes they are just downright nice folks who just want to share.

I don't seek these people out. I don't e-mail them and ask how things are going in their personal life. In fact, I don't tend to e-mail or call my tenants at all. I like a certain degree of anonymity. I like the distance. It is nice to hear about the events in their life, but I am not a part of those events. I am just a spectator who only gets a snippet when they share.

When my tenant found me through Twitter, I realized how socially vulnerable I really am. It never occurred to me someone renting from me would seek me out. I don't think it was done as anything other than a well-intentioned friendly overture.

That said, I recently got a Facebook request from one of my tenants. I am absolutely positive this was just a kind gesture. She is a sweet person and under different circumstances, I would have said yes. But, there is a certain level of professionalism that must be maintained here. I thought that was pretty obvious. How many of us Facebook friend our boss or our banker?

One of my long-term tenants, who never contacts me, and I have never personally met, also e-mailed me today. Her mother died. Days later, her brother died. She told me she thinks of me as a friend and just wanted to share. I am flattered she thinks this highly of me. I am saddened by her loss and told her. But, I wouldn't go so far as to call her a friend. If she wasn't renting from me, I would hope she would be. She is a facinating person.

It isn't that I don't befriend the people who have rented from me. I can think off-hand of five former tenants I stay in touch with (two of whom are on my Facebook list). It doesn't seem appropriate to be pals until the business relationship is through. Maybe it is just me, but I wouldn't consider looking for Legal Eagle or Jack on Facebook.

So, in the event you are reading this and you are a tenant, please understand we are not friends. It isn't personal.

At Least the Roof Didn't Cave In

We were headed to Tucson Sunday afternoon to visit with family when Carolsue called. The exchange went like this.

CS: I want you to apologize to Marty right now for me.
Me: Why?
CS: Because you are about to be in a very bad mood.

Apparently there have been bad rainstorms in Alabama this weekend. The National Weather Service has issued warnings to gather the animals two by two. Reservations are being taken on the ark. I am quite thankful the skies opened up after I left.

However, according to Carolsue, my home in Fultondale now has an indoor swimming pool. The basement consists of a former one car garage now converted to a bonus room/storage room/office/fourth bedroom. There is also a laundry room and a finished basement turned into a family room. All of these rooms now sport about 1/2 inch of water.

Fortunately, the only room with flooring currently is the family room. Even more fortunately, nobody was living there with their personal possessions destroyed. No tenant is going to scream "toxic mold" because there is now water damage. That is interesting too--because there was no sign of prior water damage, so this is a new development or this is the first major flood in the area.

Carolsue--bless her--already assigned Sid to take care of this, assuring me the exterior wall needs some flashing and repair. Of course, I need carpet for the family room now. And, I already have a source for that too.

The water will dry. It will get fixed. It certainly is an annoyance. I am not excited about spending more time and resources on getting this repaired (it doesn't sound like it is enough for an insurance claim and I really, REALLY, dislike Alpha Adjuster enough that I don't want to even bother with something so small).

I never reached totally freaked out. And, I never hit "bad mood" because of this. I feel like I should be much more upset than I am. But I am not.

Home Sweet Home

I am sitting on my couch. Marty Sunshine knows I am tired and has graciously allowed me to watch baseball on "his" high definition TV. Marty has no appreciation for baseball. He even made me his deluxe grilled cheese sandwitches for dinner. Mmmm.. homemade food.

My trip was productive. I met with a mortgage officer who handles investors yesterday. Great meeting! He gave me some inspiring things to play with that may help us with our future company growth.

I also went back out to Fultondale yesterday and met Carolsue's nephew and helper, Jon. As he thinks I am "young" and "pretty" he is my new best friend. The work over there is coming along really well. I think Carolsue will have it ready for me to advertise for the weekend.

This morning I went back out to Mrs. Martin's former home to go over it with Carolsue. She and I went through looking for ways to "mac-daddy" it up. One option is looking at enclosing a room to make it a fourth bedroom. She is working with members of her syndicate to get me a quote.

Now that the water is on, we found out there is a leaky pipe /faucet at the washing machine faucet. As it took me several months to pay off the plumber last time I needed him, I did a quick prayer that the only decent plumber in Birmingham would take my calls. Turns out he will. Whew.

I also needed to pay next door neighbor, Billy. I gave him specific instructions: when the grass gets long, mow it. He can also park his car in the driveway of my home if he chooses. I would prefer it.

My final appointment was with Legal Eagle where we spent an hour and a half chatting about everything but lawyerly things. We then spent 2 minutes going over the other things I needed. As the 508s are supposedly moving out this weekend, I won't need to find legal counsel. I hope.

One of the major discoveries I made is how much more smoothly things run with Carolsue in the picture. I don't have to travel there as often--though I am planning on going back in the fall. My tenants are working out and Carolsue gives them a pretty thorough look-over before I ever get an application. All and all, it is going ok.

Dear Mrs. Martin

Please tell me! What possessed you to paint your kitchen blood red and why on earth did you use flat paint? I am including the cost of the four cans of Kiltz to your garnishment.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

As I sit in my hotel room, showered, fed, I have been reflecting on my day. Today being my first full day in Birmingham.

This morning, I met Carolsue at the Fultondale home. The folks that moved out didn’t leave it as clean as I was hoping. Mind you, it isn’t bad. I certainly have seen worse. But, they left behind two years of fingerprints and dust. They didn’t own a working vacuum either.

My biggest complaint is they apparently didn’t know you are supposed to turn off the water to the washing machine before disconnecting. So there is a slight flood in the utility room—which is concrete. However, it spilled slightly into the downstairs den, which is carpet. I really should be more upset about this, but I am way too tired right now.

At the Fultondale home, I met three neighbors. The most curious of these folks came by early to ask Carolsue if she could have the potted plants left outside (which, now that I think of it is a bit nervy). I suppose this was her way of finding out the dirt on my tenants who left, as she actually returned the plants later that morning when I showed up. She then spent time hanging out with us looking for more information.

The other neighbors seemed much less nosy, with the guy behind this house giving me lots of details about the neighborhood Halloween customs and the neighbor two doors down innocently asking Carolsue if she was my mother. Here’s a quick tip, if you are ever in a situation where you are going to poke fun at Carolsue’s age, don’t do it when she is standing close enough to bop you. And no, Carolsue is NOT old enough to be my mother.

After Fultondale, we hightailed it across town (which in this case is 14.84 miles) to Mrs. Martin’s former home. True to her word, she moved. And, she left the place pretty clean too. Except every room is painted some sort of hideous color. For example, the kitchen is red. The master bedroom (which apparently was—I hope—where her daughters slept) is purple, yellow, pink and has a Bratz wall boarder. The kitchen flooring is in sad shape from years of wear and tear. The carpet is debatable. There is a red stain on the carpet that I think I made worse when I went to clean it. It is now pink and bigger.

While at Mrs. Martin’s former home, we met the neighbor. The neighbor dragged his son over with a friendly suggestion that Junior was out of college for the summer and for the love of all things holy could we please put him to work and get him off the couch?

This kid, by the way, looks just like Judge Reinhold’s character, Billy, in Beverly Hills Cop. Billy is now doing the lawn, changing out the locks and he took the children’s sandbox located on the upper deck of Mrs. Martin’s former home and drug it to the curb for me.

I also called James, the former hell's angel turned carpet guy for a quote for the kitchen vinyl and carpet for the rest of the home. James has already gotten back to me with his super-inexpensive quote (cash only). Someday I am going to ask James how he is able to get quality carpet at low prices. Come to think of it, I probably don't want to know.

After Carolsue and I parted ways, I ran over to the local hardware store and purchased new door locks, Kiltz and a few supplies. Carolsue is handling most of the supply gathering, as getting the homes ready to rent out really her job. But, my hope was that if I could get a jump on covering some of the obnoxious colors at Mrs. Martin’s former home she might be able to turn that place around faster.

It took me two and a half hours to use up one can of Kiltz on the red kitchen. The kitchen is now pink. It turns out that painting in the humidity is very different than painting in the desert. Paint actually rolls off the walls instead of sticking to the walls! And, paint tends to be more runny than thick. Not only that, in the desert, you can paint a wall and then roll on another coat five minutes later. If you try that in the humidity, the paint on the wall will stick to the roller. Thus again proving everything happens much slower in the South.

When I was done with the paint, I learned there is no water at Mrs. Martin’s former home. But I will deal with that Monday.

I So Need a Vacation

On my first trip out to Alabama several years ago, Marty Sunshine made an innocent quip about me just "taking a vacation." If you have ever been in a relationship or if you happen to be female, you know the type of look he he got.

My Alabama trip is not a vacation. It is a concentrated amount of work on a very tight time schedule with the luxury of having no time differences. In the past, I have been up at 6 a.m. and back to the hotel sometimes as late as 11 p.m. Generally my trip consists of errands and a ton of running around taking care of minor things that have been put on hold for the past few months.

I also meet with all the major players (lawyers, mortgage guys, some tenants and Jack) who have been going to bat for me for an extended amount of time and discussing with them what the next steps are. Because of the uncertainty of the economy and the housing market, I don't know what the future holds. They don't either, so we commiserate and brainstorm.

A lot of what I do while I am there is essentially relationship building. I get out for a dinner with Jack and Mrs. Jack. I have lunch with Legal Eagle too. These are all business appointments. We all like each other--which makes this much easier--but I am still on the clock. I am there to work.

I will also see Carolsue--which is always a hoot. I always learn about some obscure Southern tradition or Southern history hanging out with her.

I will be checking out my vacant homes immediately (Mrs. Martin assures me she is moving out today). I may also have to go attorney shopping, as soon as Legal Eagle hears all the dirt going on and can "properly" direct me to someone who can help me with my situation. Actually, I do have some Legal Eagle type things for her that are covered under attorney-client privilege.

Oh yes, there is the whole inspection thing. But, Carolsue is handling that.

I am an serious introvert by nature. As much as I like these people and am totally grateful for their support, seven days of constant human interaction drains everything out of me. I look forward to the flight home just so I can plug in my ipod and read a Rex Stout mystery. I don't pretend to be social on the plane ride home. It is just me, Clapton and Archie Goodwin. And those three hours of solitude are my vacation.

Not Lost in the Translation

The Alabama Department of Revenue sent me my yearly "You have not paid up and where the heck is our money?" nasty-gram.

Last year Diamond Jim handled this from May to December, with the Alabama Department of Revenue finally backing down. We were finally told by those nice folks in Montgomery, Oh wow! We found your payment! The check had been cashed. Sorry about that. Our bad.

I just got this year's late notice from the good ADofR folks telling me they didn't get this year's tax check. Which they did. In April. They also cashed on April 30.

I have told them so. I have sent them a copy (front and back) of the cashed check. And, I have sent them a letter where some clerk will probably get my letter and say something along the lines of, "Well bless her heart. She was probably just having a bad day." Which I believe is Southern speak for "What a bitch."

Ok, the letter wasn't nasty. But I did ask if there are some guidelines or procedures I am not aware of to streamline this process to avoid future potential late notices THAT I AM NOT OWED. I certainly hope I made it clear I don't want this to go on until December.

The Alternative Universe of Loan Modifications

I am trying to do a loan modification for one property. Actually, I would prefer to this for several properties. However, my life is currently in drive-by administrative mode--meaning I sit at the desk for about 10 minutes at a time. Just long enough to get 1/3 of any task done until the phone rings.

March 31:

I sent the loan modification paperwork to the bank, along with a letter explaining why I was looking into this. I sent them sales comparables. I sent them everything their Web site said I needed to send them.

May 1:

I received a letter (that they sent to Bliz) dated April 4. It said they made "several attempts to contact me" and I had 10 days from the notice of that letter to respond or they would be closing my file. As I hadn't heard from them during any of their "several attempts" I found this rather disturbing.

Afternoon of May 1:

After waiting on hold for an eon, the customer service representative explained they did indeed have my phone number and current address. Yep. They can reach me. I asked the customer service representative if there were notes in my file saying when they tried to reach me. The notes said they sent a letter out April 4. "That's it?" I asked. Yep.

The good news is--according to the customer service rep--all I needed to do was resubmit my loan modification on their new and improved form. He said to include my lease for the property and my 2008 taxes and I should be good to go. Otherwise, as it stood then, the file was closed. Good bye. Good luck.

Last Week

Because of time constraints I have have been working on this on and off ever since. Last week I got my 2008 taxes finished. Yippee!!

June 2 10 a.m.

Marty Sunshine provided me with his latest paystub and I was in the process of double checking everything before I hit the fax machine. I had my new six page form from the bank's Web site filled out, my hardship letter, two pay stubs, two month's bank statements, lease agreement, sales comps and 2008 taxes.

Because my fax machine is a bit challenges with more than a single sheet of paper, I was planning on taking this over to the local UPS store when I got out where they have a high-tech machine that actually can handle more than one piece of paper.

June 2 10:15

Through some sort of bizarre psychic premonition Olivia called (whom I guarantee her first language was not English). In her opening breath, completely bypassing all social niceties, she identified herself as a person from my mortgage company, asked me to tell her the address of my home and my social security number.

Me: Which home?
Olivia: The one you have with us.
Marty Sunshine (who is standing in the background seeing the purly puzzled look on my face): What is this about?
Me (to Marty Sunshine): Some woman is calling asking me to tell us our address and asking for our social security numbers to confirm who we say we are--even though she called us.
Olivia (hearing this): Wait! I am calling about your loan modification.

Olivia then repeats the address of the home where the loan modification paperwork is still sitting on my desk.

Apparently my "dead" file has somehow made it to Olivia's hands months later and she wanted to tell me I needed to go to their Web site and download new forms so that I can resubmit my request for approval. After not getting very far asking about how this "dead" file managed to get into her hands, I decided to see about the future. What I really wanted to know was how this processs works for an investment property.

Olivia didn't know. However, she was kind enough to find out. After putting me on hold for an eternity Olivia came back and told me the bank would not work with investors.

According to the representative I spoke with on May 1, the bank was handling investor loan modifications. According to the bank's Web site the bank is handling investor loan modifications. According to Olivia who called me out of the blue the bank isn't touching them.

I don't know what to believe. But, I can tell you this: A lot of time when into getting together all of the papers necessary and I am not giving up now. By golly if I had to fill it out, they have to read it.

The Carolsue Gang

Well, Carolsue seems to think there are big-time issues at the 508s. I am not saying I don't believe her. I just can't do much about until I had something concrete to go on--like rent being late.

In fact, Mr. Partner, who has been apprised of Carolsue's theories, and I are of one mind: while we are getting rent, let the rent come in and then deal with everything else eventually. Meanwhile I checked on Monday. Legal Eagle is still recused.

Rent is now late. So, Carolsue is heading over tomorrow to slap a lease termination notice on their door. She is also slapping an inspection notice on their door. An inspection notice says because there are lease violations (in this case tall grass), me or my representatives will inspect the property on Monday, June 8 at 10 a.m.

My representatives are Carolsue and her gang of merry inspectors. She has Baseball Guy, Jon (her nephew) and Andy, the convicted-murderer-turned-lawn-guy. Between the four of them, they should be able to tell me what is going on.

Random Bama

Carolsue sent me an e-mail Sunday with "CATASTROPHE" in the headline. Carolsue has a warped sense of humor. _________________________________________

Ms. Betty emailed me today with a prayer request. It had been six days since I heard from her last. _________________________________________

I have a vacant home and I am reluctant to advertise it until I know what condition it is in. But I don't want to keep it vacant any longer than necessary. _________________________________________

I am setting up my trip to Birmingham. I set up an appointment with an investment lender. He said that currently all of his clients are investors from Arizona. HUH? Attention Arizona investors: go invest in South Carolina and leave Birmingham to me. I was here first. This is my turf. _________________________________________

I asked Legal Eagle and Carolsue if they knew anyone marginally scary looking to go with me to inspect the property that I currently can't blog about. Carolsue, of course, had a few names for me.

One Conversation I Can't Take Back

Mr. Richards: I know you are a good woman. I want to make this right.

Me: You are right. I am a good woman. I haven't strangled you yet.

To Stay or Not To Stay? That is the Question

At 5:36 A.M. Friday my phone rang with a text message. In the only coherent note I have ever received from Mrs. Martin, she asked for an extension to her move out date to June 5. Why? Because it was the last day of school.

Isn't the real question will she leave June 5 if I grant her the extension? Good grief! Why does she need to celebrate her child's last day of school in the same home? Is she going to feel the need to celebrate Arbor Day or Boxing Day there too?

I really feel like I should be deeply offended she even asked. But right now I can't seem to muster up the gall. I am settling for pretty annoyed. But as Marty Sunshine pointed out, June 5 is a lot sooner than waiting for the courts to do their magic.

The way I figure it, I could say no and Mrs. Martin would stay anyway. After all, I can't physically go over and remove her--even if I was there. I could say yes and she would still stay. I have no assurances she will actually leave on June 5--a Friday, a work day.

Legal Eagle said: "Let her stay, build a little good will and hopefully she won’t quit her job so we can garnish her!"

Instead, I went to Mrs. Martin with this: "I am coming in town. When I show up, there better be a clean, empty home."

Today's Potential Tenant Etiquette Tip

As a general rule, if you would like to make a good impression with your potential landlord, it is a good idea not to start the conversation by mentioning you haven't made a mortgage payment in a while and your company is cutting back your hours.

But that is just me.

The Cost of A Quick Phone Call

For the past week, I have kept up the chore of cleaning up the bits of cerebellum left over from my daily head explosion. This is directly due to the pending real estate transaction I am working on. Actually it can be completely attributed to the loan officer and his inability to call or e-mail once a day, keeping us apprised.

Isn't it amazing the number of times in our lives a simple phone call can make or break a relationship? I have a tenant who is on a widow's pension and social security. She is never late until this month. Because this is so unusual, last week I called her. Last week I also e-mailed her. She didn't contact me back. Instead she ignored me, probably putting her head in the sand, knowing what I was looking for.

After not hearing anything from her, Carolsue volunteered to call her before she went out there and handed her a lease termination notice. Apparently Carolsue's method worked. My tenant e-mailed me.

Her note was simple. Oops, something happened this month and here is how she is planning on making good.

It isn't that I wouldn't have worked with her had she told me this upfront. I would have been happy to oblige. I understand her situation. She has a steady income that will not be going away any time soon. She also doesn't have the money to move, so she and I are stuck for the time being. Theoretically, she is motivated to make this right. Given her background, I suspect I will see the money.

By not telling me when her situation changed and making me hunt her down is downright insulting. By the way, I did write her back. I let her know that I will work with those who keep an open lines of communication. And, it was a good thing I heard from her when I did, because I was about to have her evicted, which would have been an additional cost to her.

I am not sure she completely grasps what intrinsic damage she has caused. She has changed this relationship. By not contacting me immediately, she set herself up for no future favors. I won't consider going to any extra effort for minor repairs. Don't ask me for a reference to the local Rent-To-Own shop. And, don't expect I will be so gracious next time. And, all it would have taken was a quick phone call from her a couple of weeks ago.

Oh Please! Let There Be Light

There are very few things that could possibly make my head pound more than my current real estate transaction. Turning on the utilities to my vacant home is probably the closest. Maybe.

Now that Bliz has found better opportunities than staring at my financials full time, I am forced to take on some of her tasks (given to her by me). Granted Bliz is still working for me, but she is just not making it my priority. Darn her.

One of the tasks I took back from her was getting the power and water turned on at my vacant properties. How hard could it be? You fill out a form and the power/water/gas is magically turned on by the date I requested. Or at least that is what I thought happens.

It turns out, it is harder than it looks. There is more to it. A lot more. For example, nowhere on the Birmingham Water Works Web site does it give me a way to turn on water to my home, but their telephony system says to access their Web site for "faster service." I did find out--also through their telephony system the Birmingham Water Works is one of the "Top Five Water Systems in the Country." How nice.

I also did e-mail Birmingham Water Works and ask if I could turn the water on via the Internet. Every time I pushed the send button on my request, the Web page kept timing out. By the way, according to their site, the Birmingham Water Works is "considered to be the best tasting water in the South." I would say that too if I were afraid I wouldn't have water service.

After six years on hold, I finally talked to a live person. According to Diane, the world's most wicked customer service employee, I have a balance due. News to me. I am happy to pay the balance. But Diane couldn't help me. Nor would she let me turn on the water until my account is current.

Instead she told me she would be transferring me to a computer that would make me retype my account information three times before actually granting me my wish. Oh, before she transferred me, Diane chided, telling me if I had paid my bill when I was supposed to she could have helped me faster. I explained I never got a bill. Diane said, this wasn't her problem.

Note to Diane at Birmingham Water Works: I hope you get a flat tire. In the pouring rain.

Then there was Alabama Power's nonsense. After inputting several variations of the user name and password standards Bliz and I use, I was no closer to turning on the power than when I started. At one point, Alabama Power's Web site asked for the name of my dog before they would let me continue. However, I don't have a dog. I tried the name of Bliz's dog, along with a few alternative spellings, in case Fido is really spelled Phido, Fydo or Phydeau. No luck.

Finally I texted Bliz at her new job begging for help. Bliz offered her guidance but no concrete answers. I generally appreciate the zen-like atta-girl approach Bliz has towards my dilemmas, but not today. Today I wanted her to handle this. Or, at least by Friday.

They Can Run, But They Can't Hide

It really isn't fair to say I seek revenge on those who take advantage of my good nature. It is probably much closer to accurate to say I don't forget when I am wronged. Last year one of my tenants left me a huge mess and a owed me a lot of money. Of course, she preferred to disappear, figuring I would do the same.

Instead, attorney Mr. D. has been holding on to her file. At first he couldn't find her, and told me he would revisit this when I could give him something more concrete. You may translate that to: when I found her. No worries. I was up for the challenge. I have been biding my time, waiting patiently for her to show up.

Once in a while I would hit Facebook and Twitter and see if she had a profile. I knew she had one on Linkedin, but it hadn't been updated. I also checked the church she went to, seeing if she ever got a nod in the bulletin. She did on occasion. But no phone number or other information was ever posted.

As she owes me a significant amount of money, this lurking has been worth it. The other day I googled her name to find out she got married last December. She also graciously updated her Linkedin account. I know where she lives and I know where she works.

Mr. D. has been apprised of her new status. I am giving him a chance to garnish her wages. If he doesn't want the job, I am sure Legal Eagle will be happy to do so. Either way, I will get my money.

Near or Far

People sometimes give me a raised eyebrow on the occasion when I divulge this whole rental property in Alabama thing. "Why Alabama?" They ask. Then I explain a bunch of things they really didn't want to know anyway.

I finally figured out when people say, "Why Alabama" they are really asking, "Why not somewhere closer?"

I had a bizarre epiphany this weekend with tremendous help from my cyber-friend, Happy Camper. Managing properties at any distance really doesn't matter. Problems exist whether I am here or there. You think this would have been a bit obvious, given I have done this for years and I have managed properties less than five miles from my home.

In many ways being closer might be easier. I would see first-hand if there were problems and be able to jump on them faster--if I drove by the homes. When I had rental homes in Arizona, I never drove by them. There is a lot to be said for just collecting a rent check and letting Fate take its course.

Living closer might also make it easier to cultivate some relationships with plumbers, handymen and electricians. I am certainly not going to be the one to replace a hot water heater (though I probably could). But, I have managed to develop these relationships anyway. Besides, as Marty pointed out, I wouldn't personally meet these vendors here in Phoenix either.

Living farther away allows me to put some distance between the tenant's crisis and reality. Living farther away also makes it so my tenants don't expect me to jump late Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend when the air conditioner breaks. They know there isn't much I can do from here.

In many ways, my tenants who are farther away tend to be more self-reliant than those who lived in Phoenix. My Alabama tenants know there isn't much I can do for the broken towel bar. If they want to hang their towel up, they take care of it.

Living farther away also has a mysterious factor. I am often told by tenants that when I come to town, please let them know because they want to meet me. They want a face with the name. I prefer not to personally meet tenants. I have grown to appreciate a certain degree of formality. I am a lot more scary over the phone or via e-mail than in person.

For a while now, Marty Sunshine and I have been trying to convince Mr. Partner to employ a property management company. We have also bandyied about the concept of hiring a property management company for our two homes. A property management company would find me potential renters, collect the rent, start the eviction process if necessary and coordinate all repairs. All these things I have successfully done.

Not only that, a property management company would still contact me for a decision about the renters and payment for the repairs. I would still be on the financial hook for the eviction process (and they pick the lawyer), but there would also be a middle man involved. And, the property management company doesn't have any emotional attachment to whatever my issue happens to be. So, I would be working at their pace, not mine.

Hiring a property management company always boils down to a simple question, "Will the PIA factor be less for us for the amount of money we would be spending?" I don't think so.

Warning

*** Today's Post Has Nothing to do With Starting an Accidental Business in Alabama ***

Now that you have been warned, if you don't feel like reading along today, I certainly understand.

I have gotten several questions in the past few months about the pseudonyms on my site. As most of you know, my name isn't Fiona Dragon.

Fiona Dragon is a fictional character I made up to help teach my overly sensitive and highly-spirited daughter to read. As she wasn't willing to put any effort into reading for me, Fiona--grumpy and bumbling--would show up once in a while and threaten to eat Polly for breakfast if she didn't read something. Anything.

My daughter loved the concept. It stuck and evolved into its own shtick, with other characters such as Frieda Fussy, Bossy the Cow and Nosy Nelly showing up once in a while to tutor my daughter (and now my son) in a variety of subjects.

Now that I write about things legal and sometimes disturbing, it serves me well to keep the pseudonyms going.

My Crystal Ball

I am writing this right after getting back from my real estate client/neighbor's home. She is buying a home, leaving our quiet little patch of Mesa--if the transaction actually goes through. Which is debatable right now. I brought her over a bottle of wine to go with the bad news she needed to swallow. She was gracious enough to share.

My wine-induced relaxation is a nice by-product of a very stressful week which had very little to do with Alabama. Actually, a lot happened in Alabama this week. For the most part, I just ignored it.

Ok, not completely true. Because I have been so preoccupied with my real estate job, I just dusted off my crystal ball and figured out what would need my immediate attention next week. This was a useful bit of foreshadowing, as it will save me from lots of stress next week. Instead, I am dealing with next week's premeditated Alabama insanity this week.

For example, Carolsue got the call to serve one of my tenants. Her rent is late. After a phone call and an e-mail, I had no response, so she can serve away on Monday. I already sent Carolsue the notice. Oddly enough, I told Carolsue all this woman had to was call me back. Given the week I have had, I probably would have worked with her.

Additionally, I sent Legal Eagle Mr. Richard's file for her to work her magic. Yes really. When Mr. Richard's check didn't come this week, I left him a message telling me the only thing I would accept in his next voice mail would be him giving me the check number from his missing rent payment. I haven't heard back. I still might. It isn't hope and it isn't the crystal ball speaking here. Just a voice of experience. Legal Eagle will have him served on Tuesday. No, Wednesday. No Thursday...

I have the two homes Marty and I own together--with no other financial backing--coming vacant in a matter of days. If they don't come vacant, the way the tenants have declared they will, I will then have a bigger mess. But, I will cross that bridge when the wine wears off.

Knowing I have two homes coming vacant, I needed to make arrangements to have the utilities turned on. Normally I can do this from here, but if the tenants do not pay the utilities, it becomes more tricky. So, I needed to send Carolsue two powers of attorney to handle this. She will keep these safe until the moment comes that these properties are vacant.

Additionally, I am trying to set up a trip to Birmingham. Now that my real estate transaction is going into extra innings, I don't feel at liberty to leave as soon as I was hoping. Additionally, Marty Sunshine has a major deadline at work. Being the new guy, it isn't in his best interest to take time off work to watch the kids and/or ask for work from home favors only two months into his new assignment. So, I am coordinating a hypothetical trip at the moment. All the while, I am looking for hypothetical babysitting, as I don't have any actual dates. My crystal ball isn't that good.

Red Came Through

Well finally! Mrs. Martin and I agree on something--she needs to leave.

Apparently she jumped to this conclusion today when Red showed up on her door and handed her an eviction notice. Mrs. Martin did the only thing she ever does in these situations, she contacts me.

Today, however, she was a wee bit indignant that I was not "following through" on my end of our bargain, therefore she announced she will be out by May 31. This was news to me because I had no idea we had a "bargain." And, in the event we might have one, it would look like this: I let her live in my home, she pays me rent to live in said home.

At any rate, Mrs. Martin is now leaving. That is quite all right with me.

In her e-mail, Mrs. Martin did address the amount of money Legal Eagle says I am owed. Apparently Mrs. Martin did not add up the rents owed, late fees, legal fees and Red's processing fees. I didn't break down the numbers for her. She wouldn't like it anyway.

I did tell her to direct all future correspondence to my attorney. That actually sounds much scarier than it really is. All Legal Eagle will do is call me and say, "Guess what? You gotta hear this."

Legal Eagle is still filing an eviction against her. That will be the first step in the wage garnishment game--which I suspect Mrs. Martin is not fully aware is coming. It isn't that she wasn't warned it was happening. Legal Eagle explained it all in her letter: move out by the 15th or pay another month's rent, wages will be garnished and if there is any damage to the property I will prosecute.

Even though I think Mrs. Martin is in serious denial, I certainly hope Mrs. Martin is coherent enough to make sure the place is cleaned up. Because I am going to add the cost of Carolsue going in there there and taking her junk to the curb to her final bill.

The One-Man Band Comes to a Screeching Halt

Until yesterday, Mondays have traditionally been my work day. Up until yesterday, my home schooled kids were in "school" all day, playing with other home school kids and learning about bats, the desert and Dr. Seuss. Yesterday was the last day of school. Additionally, my babysitter/file clerk's parents have decided they should spend the summer in Canada, so I am not sure what the future holds for my "work days" at this moment.

Yesterday--my last official work day of the school year--was wasted with a mind-blowing migraine that started around 7:30 a.m. and lasted until Halloween. Marty Sunshine, who has a new position at work, had to come home and take the kids to school, because there was no way I was venturing into sunlight. And there was no way they were staying home (Marty was also was bandying around catch phrases like "aneurysm," suggesting he didn't want to scare me). In fact, I was so sick of the humming of the air conditioner, that if I had the strength I would have turned it off--even if it was 100 degrees.

When I did finally manage to lift my head, I found out I have missed three messages from Alabama. I haven't worked on the loan modifications and I haven't sent the bills to Bliz to pay. I also had a few Alabama e-mails of significance that need to be addressed, including one from Mr. 114 for some work he did and another from Carolsue wondering where her money is for some errands she has run for me.

The one e-mail that is painfully missing is from Legal Eagle telling me Mrs. Martin was served. So I guess that still hasn't happened. Too bad I took yesterday off, I could have called Red myself and asked him why this hasn't happened yet.

Teaching an Old Southern Man New Tricks

I firmly believe Mr. Richards is trainable. I am not sure exactly why I optimistically grasp to this ray of sunshine. Perhaps I just want him to be. Or, maybe because he has caught on little by little. For whatever reason, he still registers as a flake on my radar. Even after all these years.

Mr. Richards is on a payment plan that he has somewhat followed. He sent me enough money to keep him firmly situated in his home for a bit longer. However, he missed his next payment. More importantly, he neglected to call. I called him, telling him I really hated assuming the worst, but had no other idea what to think--unless of course he called me back.

To his credit, he called an hour later. He explained he was in no hurry to leave, and perhaps he could have made things a bit easier if he had called me last week when he knew he would be falling short.

Apparently Junior at some fried chicken and an errant bone stabbed his mouth with enough damage to require stitches. Mr. Richards needed the money he was sending me for Junior. Had he called me and just said that, he would have missed out on my pissy voice mail. I am starting to think he likes being yelled at. Or he is used to it.

Because Mr. Richards is almost caught up, he has a repreive for a few days. The remainder of his money should be here (according to his time schedule) by Tuesday or Wednesday. That is about par. I think he is good for it (but Legal Eagle is on notice).

But why do I think he can be trained? Because he promised me when he sent out this next check he wouldn't send it signature required.

My Entrepreneurial Spirit

A long while ago, I declared that the next business I would be starting in Birmingham would be a charm school for plumbers. This was after I went through four plumbers in 24 hours--all of whom displayed varying degrees of competence and no manners whatsoever. It isn't that I want someone to be super-nice to me, but I would like some basics: not to be barked at is pretty high on the list.

Currently

Me: Can you fix the broken pipe?
Plumber: (growling) Why? You think you can fix it? If you can do a better job Lady, you go right ahead.

After Charm School

Me: Can you fix the broken pipe?
Plumber: Yes Ma'am, that will be an exorbitant amount of money. Sign here please.

Before it took me several months to pay off the only decent plumber in Birmingham, I had forgotten about this business concept. Now that I am not certain I have a preferred plumber any more (and fortunately haven't had an occasion to find out), I am back to tinkering with the whole charm school thing.

There's a market for this. Trust me.

Additionally, I have also decided once I made my millions from plumbing charm school, I plan to start a process serving training company. I maintain that any process server who can correctly serve someone within a 48 hour period of time is good in my book. And, that is after lowering my standards.

Imagine if you will, the process server who actually served a deadbeat right away! Just think about how much business they could get? (ok, yes I know sometimes it is hard to catch the person being served... I get that).

Currently

Me: Have they been served yet?
Process Server: Who?

After Process Server Training

Me: Wow! You went to their work, immediately gave them a summons and had the rest of your day to live your life or get more work?
Process Server: Yes Ma'am (read that as: "Of course, time is valuable, and you--the customer--are paying me to do a very important job.")

I am thinking what I need to do is start some sort of educational designation for process servers--the way real estate agents get all sorts of initials after their names that nobody cares about.

Legal Eagle pointed out though, the problem is they aren't the move quickly types to begin with. They just aren't high-strung Type-A personalities. If they were, they wouldn't be process servers, they would be real estate agents.

Behind the Scenes

Not every day can be a crazy who-stole-the-rafters kind of day. Fortunately. Every so often, thankfully, my accidental Southern business takes a turn for the mundane. This week was more (or less) banal. If you are truly curious, please feel free to read on. If you are my bookkeeper, you may definitely want to read on, as some of this might eventually affect you.

1. There has been a flurry of e-mails between me and the tenant who is moving out. She is asking if I am interested in selling the home to her neighbor's boss's best friend's mother. I might be. But first Dear Tenant who is abandoning me, what kind of condition is the house in? That of course, is a trick question. If she tells me the carpet is missing, she sold the copper piping and there is a hole where the upstairs floor used to be, I might take issue with my soon-to-be former tenant.

2. Mrs. Martin sent me a token rent check of 1/8 of what she owes me. The check is (begrudgingly) being sent to Legal Eagle. By the way, rumor has it, Mrs. Martin was served yesterday. Of course she was...

3. I haven't heard from Ms. Betty since last Friday. This is a record.

4. One of my tenants' dog had puppies. I found this out via Twitter. It turns out she didn't mention she had a dog when she moved in.

5. I am working with banks trying to restructure four mortgages. This requires a lot of paper work, jumping through hoops and a great sob story letter as to why I feel (as an investor) there is hardship. There is hardship. But banks don't look at investment properties the same way they look at regular home mortgages.

6. I still have the dead tree/air conditioner/lawn mower saga going on, with no particular outcome. I need evidence before I can move forward. The same person I asked to take pictures and provide me evidence is also serving Mrs. Martin today (Red--who, by the way, is now walking without the aid of crutches or cast).

7. I keep telling Marty Sunshine it is time for me to head over to Bama. I don't really have much to do there unless Mrs. Martin moves out. It isn't that I don't have things to do, I just don't really have enough to do that warrants finding child care for my kids for a week, paying for a hotel and rental car. Most of my errands are easily accomplished through a series of networking, driven by Carolsue. Sometimes showing up has an intrinsic value, like just checking on things for myself so I can keep my sanity in check.

Those Who Don't Study History...

For those of you who took part in yesterday's quiz, if you answered that I would keep Mrs. Martin's money and play again next month, you would be mistaken. And, no. It wasn't a trick question. As experience is the best teacher, it would make sense that you would naturally assume this would be the outcome.

However, experience is the best teacher which is why I won't (hypothetically) accept her payment any more.

Of course, Mrs. Martin hasn't sent a payment in. Nor have I heard from her since her promise to pay. That doesn't mean Mrs. Martin doesn't think she and I are gold. It means 1) Mr. H. hasn't served her yet (because nothing ever happens on time...yada yada) or 2) Mrs. Martin knows the gig is up.

I would like to believe Legal Eagle's attached letter to her termination notice convinced her I was serious. I will pursue legal damages if the house is trashed. I will garnish her wages. I would like to believe she will just leave. But, experience is a nasty teacher at times.

Experience also tells me this house is in a highly desirable school district (Pinson Schools--for those who know the area). People move in the summer. Getting her out now is ideal. Currently there is a shortage of rental homes in Birmingham. If Legal Eagle has sufficiently scared her into leaving, now is the prime opportunity for me.

Marty Sunshine and I own two properties without partners. We have one hundred percent of the risk and reward. One of these homes will be the vacant one I have coming up at the end of the month. The other belongs to Mrs. Martin. No, this is not ideal financially. In fact, I suspect I might have a lot of upcoming blog-therapy in my future. But, experience tells me it will all work out in the end.

How Much Have You Been Paying Attention?

In honor of collegiate finals week, here is today's post, in multiple-choice fashion.

Title:

A. Choose Your Own Adventure
B. These Blogs Practically Write Themselves

Mrs. Martin's 10 day notice has expired and the next part of the eviction process has not occurred because

A. nothing ever happens on time in the South.
B. Mrs. Martin has paid me and this is a moot point.

Mrs. Martin is on notice and is

A. shaking in her shoes.
B. is unaware she has a landlord.

Once served, Mrs. Martin will

A. send out an incoherant text message saying she will send money some time next week.
B. move out.

If indeed Mrs. Martin does send money, Legal Eagle will advise me to:

A. cash the check and sock it in the bank until we do this again next month.
B. return it to Mrs. Martin and kick her out anyway.

Heart Breaking

One of my long time program mortgagees is in failing health. She is in her 60s and is no longer able to work. She lost her job a year ago and is trying like anything to get disability. I have never personally met her, with the few times I put in an overture years earlier, she dismissd me. The funny thing is, for the past year she has been telling me to please call her when I am in town so we can meet.

Mrs. C. called me last October in dire need of assistance. She had been paying me out of her savings and now the money was gone. She couldn't afford her COBRA payment and the mortgage payment at the same time. She assured me it would be just a few months before disability came through. Is there something that could be done?

Mr. Partner, Marty Sunshine and I discussed this at length. If you recall, last October we were at the worst time in our company's history. We had two vacant homes and a Mr. Smith. We were not in a position to help.

However, Mr. Partner didn't blink when I brought up her situation. Our plan was that we would forgo the cash flow for additional money when her loan came due next year. Even if she didn't perform, the house had enough equity that the risk could be mitigated.

But, that isn't the reason we helped her. Mr. Partner simply said, "We help people. That is why we started this company." We have been allowing Mrs. C. to pay a significantly reduced payment ever since.

This past week I wrote a letter to her Social Security attorney, in hopes of expediting her disability. The theory is, if I can help her establish hardship the Federal Government might move faster. After all, the medical professionals agree she has an issue. It is just some clerk who needs to put their stamp of approval on her file.

The letter I wrote made me cry. I hated writing the words that solidified the realities she and I are facing. I wrote, "We understand this is an unfortunate situation. However it has become a financial burden we are unable to take on any longer. Per the terms of our agreement if Mrs. C. does not perform we will be forced to begin foreclosure proceedings."

Mrs. C. has never caused me any problems. Even though I wrote the letter, for now, as long as we possibly can, we will continue carrying Mrs. C. But she even said, "I know you can't do much else and I know you can't do this much longer. Thank you for your help."

Connections

We have a potential renter for the home Jack and I own. Jack and I are licensed agents and have a lot riding on our screening process. There is a strict set of Federal Fair Housing guidelines Jack and I must follow. Ignoring these set criteria can land us in a lot of hot water down the road (not to mention a nasty fine and possible jail time).

Additionally, there is another set of written criteria Jack and I have in place for our renters. They must make a certain amount of money and have a certain minimum debt ratio before we will even talk to them. This ensures we will get rent.

On top of that, I personally don't take tenants who have had an eviction or have been arrested for manufacturing or selling illegal substances. Nor do I accept tenants who have been arrested for a violent crime or sexual misconduct. You know, the basics.

Even with this kind of screening process in place, there is another level of screening that sometimes takes place. Networking. This is generally the best way to get quality tenants.

Jack got a call from someone who saw his sign outside our home. Both Jack and the potential tenant recognized each other's names and spent a few minutes reminiscing. They aren't friends. But, they do travel in social circles which at times overlaps. They hear about each other. Apparently our potential tenant sent his condolences about Jack's mother's passing, while Jack inquired about a medical situation our potential tenant has experienced. Neither have seen each other in years.

This level of familiarity boosted this potential tenant up on the "we want you, please rent from us" scale considerably. In the South (and I am sure it happens in other places as well, I don't see it as much here), if you burn someone, you are going to be shunned by their entire social network. You just don't do that.

For example, Jack introduced me to Burt the handyman. Burt stopped doing work for me. He didn't call. He just dropped off the face of the Earth in mid-project. Jack won't use him any more for handyman projects. Neither will any of Jack's associates. Burt lost this connection (and a lot of potential future work).

Strangely, I had to explain to Jack why this potential renter guy was exciting to me. It is so ingrained in his nature, apparently nobody ever spelled it out. When I finished, Jack agreed.

We wouldn't have any trouble with this guy.

All Better

My self-infliced PO Box crisis has been resolved. The Post Office has their money for another year. I have access to my box, with the Post Office's answer to a car boot, taken off. Everything is groovy. In fact, Mr. Richardson's check was even in the box. Just like he said it would be.

The Post Office Box

The Post Office called today. In their one true gesture of customer service, they wanted to let me know that I wrote the check for the wrong amount. It should have been for $56. I wrote it for $638.38.

I have no idea why I wrote the wrong amount and am truly grateful they caught my mistake. Anyway, they called to tell me it was the wrong amount and did I want them to cash the check or did I want to go ahead and write another check to them?

Seriously, they asked if I wanted them to cash my check!

Meanwhile, the PO Box is locked and I do not have access to it until this is straightened out. Then, it will take another couple of days for the locksmith to put my old lock back on the box.

Ironically, now I have to stand in line for an hour to get it unlocked and this situation resolved. Somewhere Mr. Richards has a magic mirror, is watching this, and laughing hysterically.

Mr. Richards

Well, I broke down and called Mr. Richards. Partially because he didn't follow is usually MO and call me immediately after being served. Because it was so odd, I just wanted to know what was up. But if the truth be told the other reason I called him was Mr. Partner and I currently have enough drama without another vacant home. Illegal activity moved up significantly over flaky tenants on the what-is driving-me-the-nuttiest now scale.

In the past when I have called Mr. Richards, I am very polite and business-like. Today I let him have it, in a crisp, seriously pissed off, business-like sort of way. I don't remember the word-for-word, but apparently my voice mail made a significant impact. It is truly amazing how fast he can remember to dial my number when he thinks he is going to have to pay legal fees and have his wages garnished.

Mr. Richards managed to call me in three minutes flat. The first words out of his mouth weren't a greeting but, "I really don't want to move, Mrs. Landlord." I can appreciate that. I would rather not deal with him moving either right now. I believe he means it too. One of the things I happen to know about Mr. Richards situation is he was granted custody of his son a few years ago. It is very important to him that Junior have a stable home. The real trick is if Mr. Richards can do what it takes to keep that stable home.

Today's excuse consisted of someone dying and Mr. Richards offering to fax over the death certificate obituary and anything else that might prove he has been out of town for a few weeks taking care of the untimely passing of his relative. I actually believe him--not that I told him that. He never leaves his grass long and according to my sources, it had been looking a bit shaggy. Additionally, his termination notice was on his door for a few days.

Again Mr. Richards gave me a payment plan, with money going out today. I should have it by Thursday--which coincidentally is the day Legal Eagle is planning on springing into action on her part and starting the eviction.

There are two things I stressed to Mr. Richards: I told him if he deviated from his payment--even one day--we were through. And, if he sends me one more payment with a signature required, making me stand in line at the post office for an hour, we were through with no turning back. He would no longer hear from me. The next person he talked to would be Legal Eagle.

Mr. Richards is a flake. But he has proven in the past to be a flake of his word. Right now I can live with that. At least until Thursday.

Of All The Nerve

I got an e-mail today from Ashley, my insurance agent wanting to know who was in charge of my properties. My insurance company apparently is "questioning" how responsible I was with my homes, why I am out of state and how my tenants are screened.

Because I have so many properties, my homes are insured under two different companies. What really got me in a snit was the company "questioning" this was not the company I recently submitted claims with. Instead, it was Alpha Boss's company--whom I have had no dealings with in about six months.

In the event you hadn't heard of Alpha Boss, he is the most patronizing pile of garbage I have ever met. He has a minion, Alpha Adjuster, who only works on Tuesdays and is the second biggest pile I ever met. Alpha Boss even had the nerve last year to suggest I was lying and manufactured the claim I submitted.

Not only is there no reason why Alpha Boss should be asking anything about the claims I put in and who is "managing" these homes, but nobody should. Additionally, I have no idea why on earth anyone should question how I screen my tenants.

Even being close by, I could not have stopped a strong wind from blowing off roof tiles. Nor could I have stopped whomever it was who cut the water pipe under the house in Leeds. It has nothing to do with criminal background. Stuff happens. April was my "stuff happens" month.

In the case of the claims I put in for last month, I rescinded them, once I found out how small they were. The insurance company was not out any money. And, it wasn't even Alpha Boss's properties.

I sent a scathing note to Ashley, outlining what I thought of the unprofessionalism of Alpha Boss and asking why he was involved with these claims in the first place.

However, in any event, how I choose my tenants should be immaterial to an insurance policy. I am not the only out of state landlord managing properties. And, given the number of years I have been doing this, the number of claims I have submitted (one) and the number of homes I have this should not even be topic for discussion.

Tomorrow's task: find a new insurance agent and new insurance companies.

This Would Be An Issue Only If She Really Sent the Money

This morning I woke up super-early. Somewhere in the world it was daylight, but nowhere near Arizona. There were days in years gone past when this would have been my bedtime. But now with kids and responsibilities, those days are a fleeting memory.

Normally, when I have insomnia, I read or do something mindless. Today I took the time to do laundry and clean off my desk. The laundry was self-preservation, because Marty Sunshine was about to loose his good humor if he didn't have clean socks. He does now. In the dryer.

The desk cleaning just sounded like a good idea. Isn't it amazing what sounds great when you are sleep deprived? I would like to make this very clear: if you are a real estate client and reading this: your file was not on my desk, but in my filing cabinet in my closet. If you are a tenant and reading this, your personal information is safely locked in my fire-proof strong box, nowhere near my office. If you gave me a scrap piece of paper with a phone number on it, it was on my desk.

If the Americans With Disabilities Act is ever amended, I will be the first to champion paper-phobia as a true disorder. There are those of us who suffer with it. We live, survive and do our best to get along day to day (until a sadistic bookkeeper sees fit to send another batch of papers--stop the madness Bliz!). But, we are incapable of filing. It is a disease. I promise.

While cleaning off my desk I did come across one gem. The check for the PO Box hadn't been paid. It is now late. So, Mrs. Martin's check that she said she sent last week is now residing peacefully in my locked PO Box with no way to get it until the Post Office sees fit to release the box back to me. But, no matter, none of us really believe Mrs. Martin sent the check anyway.

I May Really Need Therapy When All Is Said and Done

At the risk of being accused of teasing, I have a situation I cannot write about at this time. I sure wish I could. I could use a new spin on it. I could use some humor. What I really could use a glass of wine and what is left of the toffee Bliz sweetly sent me earlier this month.

I know Carolsue, who is beyond suspicious, is just chomping at the bit to give her ten cent's worth of invaluable wisdom. But she won't, not while I have issued a gag order.

This is one of those situations that make my stomach lining burn. I am looking every other day at air fare, wondering if I would be better off going over now, or waiting until the situation hits the fan.

There is an air conditioner. A lawn mower. A dead tree. And probably a whole lot of other stuff I don't know about just yet. Legal Eagle even had to recuse herself, so I am currently without legal counsel on this particular situation.

I am sure it will make a great story. Eventually.

The Broken Water Pipe Again

This is truly one of the most bizarre things I have experienced as a landlord. Ok, not the most bizarre. But in the top 20.

Ms. Betty sweetly said to me yesterday, "I hope y'all don't think we cut that pipe!" She brought it up. I didn't. Perhaps I have two tenants reading my blog?

And now Mr. Betty is offering to fix the mess--which they tell me isn't as bad as they suggested the other day. This will save me filing an insurance claim.

Two Hours I Can't Get Back

The dishwasher was delivered to Ms. Shirley on Friday. It was the wrong color. I spent two hours resolving this, with Home Depot finally saying, "oops."

Ms. Shirley is getting her dishwasher. On Wednesday.

The Smell Test

Yesterday I posted about the water pipe being cut under Ms. Betty's house. I would like to go on record here: It smells funny.

I have a hard time believing this is random. Nothing is missing. Someone left the hacksaw behind. The cut is pretty far under the house. So, the pipe probably wasn't cut at night without any light available. Ms. Betty is very good friends with a retired woman who lives across the street. Nobody saw anything. Even if the neighbors don't like me--the landlord--that would be a lot of work. They have done other things to the home. This isn't their style. This would take too much work.

Something isn't right about the whole thing. Was there a disgruntled tenant who decided to come over, crawl UNDER the house with a hacksaw, cut the water line and then leave the hacksaw?

Was Mr. Smith seeking revenge? Certainly he would be right at home under the house with the rest of the rats (which are dead by the way). But, I can't see him doing it. Why seek revenge on that house. It was for sale for four months. He doesn't know if we even own it any more.

Is someone mad at Mr. and Mrs. Betty and decided to go to this much effort to mess with them? I don't think so. This doesn't affect them as much as it affects me.

My theory is this: Mr. and Ms. Betty aren't telling me the whole story. Perhaps Mr. Betty was under there doing something. Perhaps he accidentally messed with the pipes and when it got out of control, to save face, they called me and manufactured the story. Ms. Betty did not want to call the police. In fact, it was when I offered that she finally agreed. I am not calling them liars. But this just doesn't smell right.

This Stuff Used to Make Me Crazy

When I saw Ms. Betty's number on my caller ID, my first inclination was to let it go to voice mail. I didn't follow my instinct.

Instead, Ms. Betty was keen to start niceties, such as inquiring about my health, my children and my day. When I didn't reciprocate, she got to the point. While she and Mr. Betty were out of town this week, some thug wormed his way under the house, into the crawl space and cut the water pipe. They even left the hack saw.

I don't know what type of reaction I was supposed to have for this circumstance, but I chose to ask what I considered the obvious.

Me: What did the police say?
Ms. Betty: Do you want me to call the police?
Me: Yes, it isn't normal that someone would crawl under the house and purposely cut the water pipe. This is vandalism.
Ms. Betty: Well, I suppose it would be a good idea. Are you sure?

After we went through this for a few minutes, she got around to telling me about the damage. I hadn't even thought about damage. I figured a cut water pipe was pretty much the worst it would get.

Oh no. They had been gone a few days. So, this incident could have happened days earlier. The water had seeped into the house. Into the walls. The floor was rotting. James, the Hell's Angels-turned-carpet-guy's carpet was moldy.

Lona at the insurance office has been alerted. I will let her call the insurance company and we will go from there.

Sanity still intact.

Up Up and Away

Today was update day for Mr. Partner. I generally wait until I have a whole bunch of stuff to say and then throw in a few minor things on top of the heavy duty stuff and end it with some gobbledy gook about how things are looking up.

And, for the record, things are looking up. I don't think I could handle any other reality right now.

Of course, looking up has nothing to do with landlord issues. We don't have any meth labs. We don't have anyone renting from me the FBI and the IRS are looking for (yes, it has happened). When you manage more than zero rental homes, there are always issues.

Ms. Shirley's dishwasher has been ordered. Mr. 114 was given a handyman list today, including taking the dishwasher out of Ms. Shirley's home and installing the new one later this week. Piece of cake.

Then there is Mr. Richards. He hasn't called me full of excuses or payment plans just yet. Last year he was in the hospital for a period of time. I didn't believe him so he sent me hospital receipts, notes from his doctor and other evidence to assure me he wasn't looking for an out. I have wondered if this was the case this time.

However, the eviction notice is still sitting on the door, suggesting nobody (like his son) is there. So Carolsue theorizes he has a girlfriend. In any case, I have an abandonment clause in my lease. If he doesn't contact me, things will really be looking up.

The Eviction Game

Mrs. Martin just sent me a flabbergasted note saying she "had no idea" she owed rent. Didn't I get the March rent payment she made?

Dear Ms. Martin. Please check the calendar: It is the end of April.

The way evictions work in Alabama is like this (have no fear, Carolsue or Legal Eagle will correct me if I am wrong):

A lease termination notice must be delivered saying rent is 10 days late. I add in late fees and the cost to serve them as well. So, the amount is always more than the rent.

This notice is usually done more than 10 days after rent is late because NOTHING EVER HAPPENS ON TIME IN THE SOUTH. The notice gives them 10 more days to get their act together and send in the rent payment.

If they don't do that, or preferably move out, then we defer to Legal Eagle, who files in the court, saying we have a deadbeat on our hands. There is some hoops to jump through here. Lots of waiting. If the tenant doesn't respond to the court filing, then the sheriff comes out in a few weeks.

If the tenant does respond to the court filing, then we go to court and they can explain to the judge why they decided to steal from me. They also owe me more money if they stay in the house that long too. Legal Eagle is happy to garnish.

These deadlines are generally arbitrary. Last year I started Wayward's eviction process with Legal Eagle on May 1. She was escorted out August 1. Mr. Smith decided to fight me. I started his process on Aug. 1 and we went to court November 3.

Marty Sunshine keeps reminding me it wouldn't take any less time if we lived there and handled this ourselves. It doesn't make me feel any better.

Incidently, Mrs. Martin just e-mailed me. She says the check is in the mail. Uh huh. Of course it is.

Mr. 114

In the event you don't remember Mr. 114, he and his lovely wife have a beautiful manicured yard and live next door to one of my rental homes. We connected because he offered to show my then-vacant home last year.

Sadly, That didn't work out too well. Mr. 114--whether he realized it or not--is a bit selective in who he wanted living next door. Because of that, I suspect he didn't shed the best light on the house to prospective tenants, turning them off to him, the house and the neighborhood. When I took him out of the picture, all of the sudden prospective tenants came out of the woodwork. I don't think he was being malicious. He really doesn't want a rental home next door to him under any circumstances.

That said, he has found peace with Ms. Shirley, my current tenant. And, he is currently taking care of her yard. This happened through a strange bit of circumstance. As the story goes, he went over to borrow a cup of sugar/borrow an egg/because was curious, and saw a bid from a lawn service on her door. He left a hasty note, telling Ms. Shirley that he would be happy to mow the lawn for less. Ms. Shirley hired him.

Mr. 114 and I have stayed in touch for the past year for a variety of reasons. Mainly he and I share a vested interest in home values. Jack regularly sends me updates on the values of my homes. Once in a while something comes up in Mr. 114's neighborhood and I share it with him. We then have a "Gasp! Can you believe it. Wow! What the heck is happening to the home values in the area??" e-mail exchange. Actually, in the particular area where Mr. 114 and Ms. Shirley live, the values aren't too bad.

Anyway, the last time this exchange took place, Mr. 114 told me he was laid off from his job. I asked what he was planning on doing and he naively responded by telling me he is starting his own lawn service/handyman service.

There are very few things that bring joy to a landlord the way hearing the words "handyman" does. I sent him a quick list of things to bid out for me. I assured him, if his price was good and he didn't mind driving I would probably be a steady customer.

Meanwhile, Ms. Shirley's dishwasher went out. As it is 15 years old, and the part is $250, it isn't worth repairing. Home Depot still will deliver but won't install. So, Mr. 114 to the rescue!

To the Wolves

Tomorrow morning, armed with lots of attitude, Carolsue is going to serve Mr. Richards and Mrs. Martin. Most likely I will get partial payments from Mrs. Martin before all is said and done. Mr. Richards will probably just send me some excuse and rent a few days afterwards.

If I can actually talk to either of them, I think it is time for a heart-to-heart. They need to move. They need to figure out a way to live within their means. Let me sell the homes or find renters who want to pay. But more importantly, they need to get the heck out of my life. They are sucking out the positive energy from my very being.

There is a fine line between my lack of patience and my willingness to put money in the bank. With Legal Eagle's recent wisdom burned into my frontal lobes, I will probably consider taking the payments. Even if I don't want to.

Just an Observation

Sometimes owning an accidental small business is like channeling a manic toddler.

Earlier this week I was poised for my monthly temper tantrum. Everything was not going as I planned. Not that anything really ever goes as planned in life. But there is a small faction of society who seems to think I happen to have control issues.

Later in the week, after my long nap, I was pretty even keeled. The annoying things were on the back burner. The good things consisted of rent checks and a suspicious lack of e-mails from my problem children.

Then, after talking with Diamond Jim and Jack yesterday I am ready to take on the world. All the weird and annoying stuff heaping around me is settling down. (Mind you, it is still there.) I have focus. And at this moment I can play well with others.

I Just Want to Make Sure I Clearly Understood

So, Mr. Partner called this afternoon. During our conversation, I told him I wanted to start eviction proceedings on Mr. Richards. I was bracing myself, knowing he was doing the mental calculations of what this means to us. Knowing there would be money to spend.

Instead he said, "Go for it. I trust you."

Now I am sitting back, analyzing "I trust you" and every possible scenario. I am looking for the hidden meaning and wondering what he really meant.

Ugh. I am such a girl.

Another Vacant Home

The family that bounced a check to me earlier this month dutifully sent a cashier's check. The wife also sent me a very sweet e-mail. In it she said she keeps "forgetting to pay the rent" so they are moving out at the end of next month.

The green landlord would have written back and said, "Why don't I send you a reminder each month and you can stay." The sage landlord says, "Hate to see you go, good luck."

Because, let's face it, if you are "forgetting" to pay for a place to live, you have bigger issues in your life. I wish I would have figured this one out earlier in my landlording career.

There are a few logistics to her e-mail that I need to address. Such as her move-out date. Such as the fact she is breaking her lease. Such as the fact I don't want her to leave her garbage when she goes and would appreciate if she would clean up on her way out the door. All of these things need to be addressed. But not today. That is tomorrow's task.

Gratitude

A friend is running a 20 day gratitude blog, mentioning each day what she is grateful for. Just for fun, I have been doing this on paper, applying it to my personal life. I decided maybe it was time to look at adding a few gratitude items to my company life. After all, gratitude comes from attitude. Attitude is what drives the rest of the game.

1. The people, past and present, who have supported me in this endeavor and enriched my life.

2. The ability to (hopefully) help and serve others. I am providing a service: a place to live with the potential for my tenants to purchase if they are in a position to do so. Even if they do not, it at least gives them a chance to explore the idea and see if home ownership is for them.

3. A business plan. It is my road map. Sometimes I forget where I am going and all I have to do is dust off the business plan and say "oh yes... we bought a few homes. Now why did we do that?"

4. Tenants who move out because their situation is no longer conducive to where they live. I am grateful for those folks. They tell it like it is and generally don't leave too much of a mess. Most of the time their homes are easier to clean and get re-rented.

5. A business partner who understands property management is work. And, that would be work he doesn't have to do. It makes things easier knowing we aren't going to go head to head over the minor things. And the ability to learn and grow from Mr. Partner's experience because he has been doing this much longer than I. His input is valued.

Sigh

You know that friend who calls you once a month because the sky is falling? They fill your ears will all sorts of scenarios of the imaginary disasters that are probably going to befall upon them. And you, caught between "she a good friend" and "could she please get a grip already!" tolerate it as much as you can until thankfully you have the lamest of excuses to get you off the phone. "Um... I have to go now... I am overdue from balancing my check book." That kind of thing.

Well, today your drama queen friend would be me. For whatever reason, my imagination was in overdrive. The drama was overwhelming. Nothing was calming me--not even my old standby friends who endure the once a month drama. And frankly, I didn't need the drama. It only made the reality worse.

It didn't help today that I heard from Mrs. 508 and Ms. Betty. Both of whom have their own drama going on and opted to share it with me, whether or not I really wanted to hear it (and Ms. Betty cried).

Nor did it help that Mr. Richards is still being a flake and Mrs. Martin is nowhere to be found.

Or that the people who sent me the hot check last week now tell me they are moving out--NEXT MONTH (it would take just as long to evict them and cost more money as it will to wait for them to just leave).

And, it doesn't help that I have another vacant home as of today.

Today was one of those days that just made me want to say "uncle," crawl back in bed and wait until November to peek back out and see if the coast is clear.

I hope tomorrow looks better.

Legal Advice

Yesterday, I got a check from Mrs. Martin for the remainder of her March rent. My first call was to Legal Eagle wanting to know if she had filed with the court just yet. She hadn't.

Let's back up here. Yes, I sent Legal Eagle Mrs. Martin's file more than a week ago. However, in the event I haven't fully explained this, the culture in the South is to take their time with just about everything. And, in all fairness to Legal Eagle, she had been out sick for a couple of days too. (But it doesn't change the slow Southern culture that drives me out of my mind.)

I really didn't want to take Mrs. Martin's money. I would much rather kick her out. I so want her out of my home, and more importantly out of my life. I realize if I accept her rent I will have to go through this same stupidity in a few weeks.

I also realize if I evict her I will have to go without rent for a few months, while either Mrs. Martin 1) hangs out in my home waiting for the sheriff to kick her out or 2) finds another place to live but leaves me a mess to clean up and walls to paint. Neither idea appeals to me.

Legal Eagle offered me her best lawyerly advice, "Honey, a half a loaf of bread is better than no loaf of bread. Take the money and evict her next month."

Oh No! Not Another Learning Experience!

Several years ago, Bliz introduced me to the Law of Attraction. Essentially, if you can think it, you can be it. I unconsciously tried out this concept last year. I thought "disaster" and that's about what I got.

In January, I started really focusing on the idea of the Law of Attraction and what potential I could get from it. Before I got out of bed every day, I would envision what I wanted to see happen--in this case it was a peaceful and profitable existence with my Alabama business. And, I was getting it.

Yes, I had the overall annoyances with broken air conditioners and the maddening tenants, but for the most part, these challenges didn't have the same emotional impact I felt last summer. Nor did they really have a tremendous impact on my internal peace and prospective prosperity.

About two weeks ago, I stopped my daily mantra. I didn't realize I stopped it right away. However, I did notice a lot of general annoyances starting to add up. Mrs. Martin. Mrs. 508. This week's check that bounced. Ms. Betty. Wind damage to one of my homes. That kind of thing.

Yesterday I reached my brink. My day started and ended with the word "cluster." Marty Sunshine did what any good husband would do when faced with a crazed wife on the verge of a breakdown: he left me alone with the TV remote so I could watch baseball, all the while saying a prayer the Diamondbacks might possibly win and my mood would improve. (The Diamondbacks did miraculously pull off a win--just for the record).

My mood didn't improve until today. This morning I realized my drama was building inside my head. Oh yes, these latest annoyances are no different than the annoyances last month or the month before. There are always annoyances. The difference being how I was instantly reacting. When I thought of my challenges as individual issues, I had peace. I could handle it.

When I started adding up everything going on and all the drama (real or imaginary), looking for evidence about how we were drowning, I started seeing failure everywhere. This morning, I immediately started my mantra again. And all of the sudden it really doesn't seem so bad.

Doubled Over

Before a reasonable hour Monday, Bliz sent me an e-mail telling me one of my rental checks bounced. I said a slew of unrepeatable words, proving once again I am NOT from the South were manners are the forefront of society. In the South, the same sentiment boils down to "bless their hearts."

I am not surprised this check bounced. This tenant has been acting funny for a few weeks. She sends me cryptic notes saying she will call me to "touch base about something" and then doesn't. When her check was late I called her, asking about the missing money. She assured me husband sent it, phrasing her words in such a way to make me wonder if her husband was on his way to the post office right there and then.

Now before we go off the deep end here, let's take a moment to give the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she didn't subtract properly. Perhaps there is a mistake at the bank. Perhaps she was getting paid and didn't get the money in the account soon enough. Perhaps it was just one of those things. Yes, bounced checks happen. I get that.

But even before I cashed it I had some sort of suspicion. In fact, I told Carolsue a couple of weeks ago to be on the lookout for another termination letter I was sending her way for her to process serve. So, this bounced check may be an accident, but I doubt it.

To me, an inexcusable bounced check is one of the worst kinds of breaches. I am not talking about any of the above disclaimers or the tenant who calls and says "my check bounced. I am sending a new one" (that happens).

I can handle the tenants who don't pay or pay late much better than I can handle the one who sends me a hot check. In the landlord-tenant dynamic, a bounced check is a sucker punch. Everything will be going along fine then BAM, they knock all trust and tolerance out of me. A purposeful bounced check changes the relationship on a dime. Everything from here on out will be a cashier's check. It ruins relationship and any future goodwill. There is no going back.

My True Enemy

Kryptonite is to Superman what paper is to me. Paper makes me incapacitated, paralyzed, unable to regain my senses. Bliz--who knows this--blitzes me with papers to file on a monthly basis. Yes, I know it is her job to look at the papers I send her, pay the bills and then send it to me to file. But come on! Isn't there some sort of unrealistic environmental movement to become a paperless society?

At this point, I think it is fair to say, I am doing my level best to ensure I won't be weakened by my kryptonite. Just like Superman, I am avoiding.

Many years ago, I hired a file clerk. A sweet young woman with a heart of gold who taught me filing is not an inherently obvious skill. After some degree of coaching, I gave up. She just didn't get it.

Because Marty is now working in an office and I am starting to sell real estate more, I have hired a local homeschooled teenager to come over and help me with the kids a couple afternoons a week. The other day while she was over and the kids were preoccupied, I asked her if she would be interested in trying her hand at filing.

The dear girl actually caught on very quickly. And she liked it! With any luck I may have found a part time file clerk who can withstand the power of my arch nemesis.

Hello and Welcome to My Therapy

Although I have no proof, I have a very strong suspicion one of my tenants found my blog. Even with pseudonyms, there is a very good chance I have been outed. After all, how many of us are out there who have similar circumstances to mine?

Yea, there are other landlords. Yea, there are other landlords who live remotely and manage properties, but for whatever reason the uniquely weird seems to go my way. And, if I didn't look at what was going on as unusual and weird, then I would probably look at is as downright freaky at times. So, my interpretation of "weird" is like thinking the glass is half-full.

My new readers who may--or maybe not--have found me have had a mention in here a time or two, but not because they caused me grief. And no, it isn't Ms. Betty (if it was, maybe the phone would stop ringing as much). The person who found me is one of the low maintenance folks peacefully existing in their own little patch of Bama.

When I first figured this out, I was having one of those internal awkward moments about acknowledging the whole thing. "Um... hello. Yep, Good to see you... Um... Goodbye." In a moment of embarrassed panic it occurred to me to cancel this blog, but that seems so drastic. Now that the initial shock has worn off, I decided I was here first. This is MY therapy. I write to keep my sanity.

What I write about is true. Even if at times I wish it wasn't. So, if you have found me out, hello and enjoy the glimpse into my world.