Hopefully The House Won't Burn Down

Tuesday I got a phone call from Ms. Kathy. There was no point for niceties, but we went through them anyway. It was storming at her house and sunny at mine. Her kids are fine. As are mine. Her new job is going well, thanks for asking. All of this was quite unnecessary, as I happen to know any time Ms. Kathy calls there is some sort of extraordinary crisis. 

Frankly, I go into cardiac arrest every time Ms. Kathy calls me. She won't call me to tell me rent will be late. She won't tell me if the septic is stopped up until 5:01 p.m. the Friday of a holiday weekend (and did). But, she will call me if there is an electrical issue. Apparently "electrical issues" are the 9-1-1 of landlord calls in Ms. Kathy's vernacular.

I gave Ms. Kathy the electrician's number and suggested she find a time convenient for both of them to get this resolved. I guess I was a bit more lackadaisical about it than she was anticipating--though I am not sure what she was expecting me to do from here. Hop the first plane to Birmingham with my volt meter and a Phillip's screwdriver? I recommended, under the circumstances, just not using the light socket until the electrician has had a chance to take a peek.

Ms. Kathy has been renting from me for just shy of three years. She reminded me there was the same electrical issue years ago. I don't remember. But I will take her word for it. I do remember something about a loose wire and Ms. Kathy having some sort of fear of the house burning down. But, that's about it. Hopefully my electrician remembers better than I do. And hopefully he has a Phillip's screwdriver.

Only In Alabama

I got an e-mail from the bank I am working with in Alabama today. My representative included this as part of her signature.

Personally, I don't have any problem with this whatsoever. And I am glad that Freedom of Speech is running rampant. You don't see this from bigger, more corporate banks.

Sincerely,

Ms. Prunella Bank Officer

Some Heroes Wear Capes Mine Wear Combat Boots

In GOD We Trust

High Expectations

I got an e-mail about my Calera home the other day. My Calera home is probably my nicest home. It was built a few years ago and is an upscale area. This person sent the following e-mail:

"We r very interested in this home. Our credit is really bad right now, but we will be able to buy in a few years. Do u want to sell? Will u take $600 a month?"

I am pretty sure you can't rent a cardboard box just about any metropolitan city for $600 a month, much less in Calera.

Nah.... He Doesn't Have Time to Read

Kirby knows I have a blog. But, I have never given him the address. So, unless he has found it by other means (and hello if you have), he has no idea that I have been writing about how I am a tad frustrated this past week.

However, Kirby has taken the last day or so to answer my e-mails in a timely manner. Of course, the first one Monday said something like "Hey Dude! I have now asked you this simple yes or no question three times in the past week. What gives?"

The answer to that question happens to be the deadbeat is still living in Fultondale and she refused to come to the door when Kirby showed up.

In Tuesday's e-mail exchange, we discussed the potential tenant who has my home number. She has called Kirby about 17 times. Apparently she isn't interested in my home in Centerpoint. It isn't "modern" enough for her. I am not sure what she was expecting, given the homes in that area were built in the late 1970s.

She might be interested in the home in Calera, but Kirby is making her fill out an application before he hauls her around anywhere else. So far she hasn't gotten back to him. I won't cry if she doesn't. I don't need her calling me every month throughout the duration of her lease.

Kirby also hit me with this bombshell: he hired another person to do what he does. This person will take half of his load. But, he assured me he kept me as one of his landlords and passed on others to the new person. Personally, I am guessing he did it because he didn't want to scare her on her second week.

Take Your Baggage Elsewhere

My Y'all job has come in handy with dealing with jerks. There is nothing so satisfying as being ultra polite to some jackass who is flying off the handle because he is inconvenienced by having to drive an extra half mile to pick up his truck, only because his desired location still has a collapsed roof after Hurricane Irene.

This particular life skill came in handy on Monday when I sorted through the litany of soon-to-be homeless callers who left articulate messages asking me to call them back. And might I say, this week's crop was much more pleasant.

When I got to Ms. Tyler, I listened to the voice mail one last time before calling her. She was one of the more articulate, but it is always best to make sure I have her name and number correct before dialing the phone (one of the really cool things about Southern etiquette: if I can't catch the last name, I can add "Mr." or "Ms." to a first name and be considered polite--Ms. Patty or Mr. Todd are just as acceptable as Mr. Jones or Ms. Smith).

Now then, back to Ms. Tyler.

I called Ms. Tyler and inquired if the person who answered the phone happened to be her.

She barked, "Yes it is! I don't know who y'all are, but y'all need to stop calling me. Have I made myself clear? Don't call me again."

I replied, "I am terribly sorry to have troubled you. I was under the impression you had called me inquiring about one of my homes for rent."

And as I was hanging up, I heard her yell, "Wait! Don't hang up."

To which, I did anyway.

Today's Tip

If you want to rent a home, please don't send me the following text: "Who es dis?"

She Got It

Mrs. Sherwood caught me a few minutes before my Y'all shift was to start. You see, she wanted to make good on some of the rent she owes. "Are you going to be caught up soon?" I asked with impatience, eyeing the clock to make sure I wasn't going to be late. Y'all is cranky if I am late. And I need the job right now.

"I hope so," she replied with a sigh. "This has been really hard for us." "This" being her husband out of work and having to relocate to a small isolated boarder town in the desert. Then, as an after thought, she said, "I didn't think about it until now, but it was probably pretty hard on you too."

I love Mrs. Sherwood. Have I mentioned that?
I admitted that her paying rent late hadn't been ideal, but Mrs. Sherwood and her situation was special. "There are only a handful of tenants I would extend this courtesy to," I explained.

"How many?" She naively inquired.

"One." And I meant it. The rest of the tenants who took it upon themselves to pay late last month just did it without my blessing. (Are you listening Ms. Shirley and Ms. Kathy???). Though, I might be willing to extend a charitable hand to Ms. Angie if she asks.

As we continued to chat, I asked her if she knew of anyone who wanted to rent a home or four. And then Mrs. Sherwood put it together. "You have four that need to be rented and I paid late?" I could hear it in her voice. She had every idea what August was like for me.

Yes, yes I did.

Mrs. Sherwood told me she would ask around--but only to those she thought I would "be able to stand." In the meantime, she would send a prayer or two my way. Thank you Mrs. Sherwood. I could use a few.

Danielle and Daphny

I really hate tenant screening. And yes, I know I have a property manager for this sort of thing. And let me assure you, with the number of phone calls and e-mails he has gotten this week, he knows that I know he should be doing this. 

I had two interesting phone calls today.

The first came from Danielle. What caught my attention about her was that she had a 602 area code for her phone number (that would be Phoenix, AZ area code, for those who aren't in the know). Danielle was articulate, interesting and pleasant to talk with.

She wanted more information about my Pinson home. However, she isn't moving until Mid-October. That wouldn't work for me. In fact--I am going to go out on a limb here--given the number of calls I am receiving, I am willing to bet Pinson is going to rent in less than two weeks. However, I gave her Kirby's name anyway and told her to call him about my Fultondale home. The Fultondale home isn't on the market just yet.

Heck, I don't even know if the Fultondale tenant is going to leave quietly or not. Hopefully she will. But at any rate, it is better to be proactive, than reactive. So, if she wants it, Godspeed.

I also had a call from Daphny. She was articulate, well spoken and left a lovely message. However, in her voice mail, she didn't tell me which house she was interested in renting. When I called her back, she responded to my introduction by asserting, "I need you to call me back in five minutes. I'll be waiting."

She can wait all she wants. I am moving on.

Random Bama

Kirby is alive! I know this because he responded to Mr. Noble's request to return the keys to the home and carefully cc'd me.

Of course, Mr. Noble is holding my keys hostage until Sept. 14--the day his lease officially ends. No amount of logic, "You no longer live there, why don't you just return them, I am planning on giving your security deposit back to you, let it go already" seems to be working on Mr. Noble.

___________________________________________________________

I got a call today from someone on the Birmingham line inquiring about my homes. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the caller, except my skin prickled and the hairs on my neck went up. During the course of his voice mail he said he was interested in renting any of the homes I have available. Mind you, the homes I have available are about 40 miles from each other. Why isn't he picky?

At any rate, I think I will call him back next week if I am really desperate. My landlord sense is telling me to pass on him.
___________________________________________________________


I'm probably overreacting, but one of the e-mails I received about the home in Centerpoint came from "Sandra." Actually, her name wasn't Sandra, but a derivative of that. And her last name was actually a middle name. Like Sandra Louise. The name was eerily similar to a former tenant of mine who trashed my home a couple of years ago.


I passed the message to Kirby with the following note: I had a tenant with a similar name. If this person also goes by the name "Sandra White," "Louise White," or "Laverne Louise White," don't even bother showing the home.
___________________________________________________________


In the morning I have my monthly Diamondbacks/Oregon Ducks/Harry Potter book club breakfast with my dear Diamond Jim. When we set this up earlier in the week I asked what he thought of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I am glad to hear he liked it and can't wait for the next book I am dutifully bringing him.

Rookie Mistake

I didn't call the litany of inquiries who left coherent, polite messages on my voice mail Tuesday. I realized around 1:45 that I just didn't have time. So, I convinced Marty Sunshine to please, please, please do it for me.

As I was rushing out the door, I was giving last minute orders: "Now, if they are impolite, we aren't renting to them. Don't give them any false hopes. If they are rude now, they will be a nightmare for the next year." And, "No pets. No excuses." And, "If you like them, give them Kirby's number." Marty assured me all of these directives were obvious, as Marty Sunshine has been hearing me do this forever.

Of course, what I forgot to give him was the rental amounts for each home. So, while I was meeting with my client he sweetly called to ask. It worked out well. My client was intrigued enough with whatever B.S. pearls of wisdom I offered Marty, and I manage to score a few points, as my client is a landlord as well.

When I got home, Marty had dutifully gone through the list. He proudly presented me with a paper with copious notes, and in a few cases, frowny faces, depicting people who will not be renting from us. He then threw this bomb at me: he had given a few our home number for folks to call us back at if they had any questions. "Our home number?" I gasped in horror. "Tell me you mean my cell."

Nope, he didn't. Because at that moment, the phone rang and it was one of Marty's favorites calling back. She was lost and needed directions to the house in question? And, while we were at it, when would I be over to show her the home? "You need to call Mr. Kirby." I repeated as patiently as I could muster for the thirtieth time. "He is the one who has the keys."

That didn't seem to convince her nothing could be done, but it got her off my home phone for the time being. And I predict, no matter if she rents or not, I will not have heard the last of her now that she knows how to get in touch with me.

Update: She called again. At 5:30 a.m. this morning. Marty may never hear the end of this.

Don't Mess With a Passive-Aggressive High Strung Type

There was no amount of prodding, affirmations or amaretto that could make me call the 17 people (yes, 17) who left voice messages for me Monday wanting to know about my vacant homes. Of those 17, I have already axed about four, who couldn't follow the simple directive I left on my voice mail:

"If you don't leave your name, I won't call you back. You are renting my home. You play by my rules." Ok, I might have only put the first sentence in my voice mail. The rest is total subtext.

Of the 13 calls I will return later today, most of them were for Ms. Robin's former home. The others were for Mr. Noble's home which isn't technically on the market until next week. There were two calls for the home on Hysteria Lane in Calera. One wanted to know if I would take a section 8 tenant. The other wanted me to hold the home until December 1. No. And, No.

Note to caller who wants to move in December 1: bless your heart. I am calling you back last.

I am sure Kirby is doing some sort of mega-advertising blitz, on my behalf, but I haven't heard word one from him about potential tenants. The advertising did point out something I had wondered: are there renters? Apparently there are. Just not in Calera. Good to know Kirby isn't slacking.

Later this afternoon, (a day where I haven't worked for Y'all and handled real estate in the same day), I will call them all back. I will start with those who I put little stars by their name--the stars telling me they won the "who can leave the most professional message on my voice mail" lottery.

I will then have those callers bombard Kirby's cell phone. I suppose I could have them call the office, but why take a chance he will miss the calls? Just to be sure, I will also send Kirby a list of potential tenants.

Micromanaging? You bet.

Let the Fun Begin

I ran three ads in the Birmingham News on Sunday. Do you know of anyone else anywhere who has their own personal rep at the newspaper?

I have 12 voice mails to listen to and return today. I put a notice on my voice mail that said I would not return any call where the caller did not clearly leave their name.
I hate screening tenants. But I hate empty homes worse.

As Good as it Gets?

I am not in the South. I really don't get the South. But I do know a few things about doing business there. Namely, don't piss off the ones who help you.

Which brings me to this particular dilemma. I have Kirby. Before Kirby, I had a terrible property manager who should not be in business. Thanks to a letter to the Alabama Department of Real Estate, they have been put on notice. 

Before that fiasco of a company, I interviewed several property management companies in Birmingham and hated them all. Simple things--like actually not giving the keys to my vacant home to total strangers prospective tenanats was too much to ask. I understand this is common practice in Birmingham. But it doesn't take a county fair psychic with a Magic 8 ball to figure out how wrong this could go. 

Essentially, Kirby is the best legitimate property manager I have found in Birmingham. I have Carolsue as well, but she isn't licensed, and she also has her own life. So, Kirby it is.

Kirby understands property management. I know what he does all day. He knows I know. His job isn't for the faint of heart. Now that he manages over two hundred and fifty homes with a skeleton staff, he is busy. He once told me another landlord sent an unSouthernlike e-mail to him, suggesting Kirby should actually return a call or an e-mail. Kirby said to me, "I think that was a little uncalled for. He should know I would get back to him."

Though Kirby's lacadaisical behavior doesn't bode well in the rest of society, it seems to be perfectly appropriate in the South.

But I am not in the South.

And I have two vacant homes.

And two others coming vacant.

And a deadbeat in Fultondale.

And a high-strung serious type-A personality (no, that is not redundant).

And a Kirby who can't seem to return an e-mail or a phone call in a timely fashion.

Marty Sunshine and I have been discussing this. Or, more to the point, I am fretting, and making veiled threats to fly out to Birmingham to yell at Kirby and Marty has been nodding and smiling. Most of my property management contracts are coming due and I don't have to renew them. But, I really don't have anyone else to take them over. Those I speak with don't know as much about property management as Kirby does (or, for that matter I know). I don't want a sales guy to sell me his services. I want someone who can handle my homes. And rent them out.

Something else Kirby told me the day we were talking about the other landlord who offended Kirby. He said he always calls me back first. He knows how patient I am and he knows I understand what he does. Kirby said he was confident I understood, beyond a doubt, that Kirby would call me back as soon as time permitted.

I am glad Kirby is confident about that. I am not so sure. I think I would rather have a phone call or two a bit more often instead.

You Didn't Think I Would Forget Did You?

Today is National Bliz Day.

Happy birthday my dear friend. Thank you for all of your sage advice (like yesterday's text for example) and continued friendship. You are a treasured friend and a beautiful woman. I am honored to call you my friend.

Hello, You Must Be Going

Kirby manages my home in Fultondale. The tenant has been there almost a year. This particular tenant has had the same job for 16 years. Her last residence she lived at for several years. When she moved in, Kirby said she seemed reasonable. I checked her friends out on Facebook (yes, I do that) to find them to be somewhat normal, with hobbies in Alabama Football and Jesus--basic standards for all polite society in Birmingham.

From about the second month she moved in, she has had drama of every kind. First it was a major car accident that landed her in the hospital. Rent was late, but paid up after Christmas. Kirby even went to her hospital room to check up on her. And to collect the rent check.

Then there was the tornadoes that swept through Birmingham last April. Fultondale was devastated. Except my home. My home was fine. However, she paid late because she said she didn't have any power and had to stay in a hotel for a week. From what I heard power was only out for 24 hours in her section of Fultondale.

She paid late in May because her brother died and she had to pay for his funeral. I have several issues with that one. The two biggest being that the funeral for her brother was pretty cheap because my rent isn't very high. And the second being that I have had two tenants use this one on me before. When I mentioned that to Kirby, he chuckled, he has heard it before too.

She paid late in June, and probably the only reason she came up with the rent money was that Kirby drove over to her home and showed up with a notice to vacate.

She paid late in July.

She hasn't paid for August. When I found out she was late again, I told Kirby to let her know one of two things: either her rent when her lease is up is doubling, giving her reason to move, or just let her know I am not renewing. I don't want her money.

Kirby took option number two. He has started the eviction process once again, letting her know if she goes quietly I will refund her deposit (less any fees--like rent and late fees owed). And, if she goes quickly and quietly, I will not garnish her wages. By the way, I am guessing I won't see August's rent.

Life it too short to deal with crummy tenants. I have a property manager so I don't have to deal with this nonsense. As far as I am concerned, once a tenant who is in property management becomes my problem, I might as well just have them leave. It is defeating the purpose.

Washed Out

Mitch and Tonya are buying a home. I know this because I am their agent. The home they are buying came with a ready-made tenant--which is pretty cool because I don't really want to put the time and effort into helping them find a tenant for a home 45 minutes away from me. But for these folks, I would.

Cassie, the ready-made-tenant, has been living in this home for five years. She has a six-year-old son. The home was originally purchased by Cassie's sister, allowing Cassie a place to live. Now that Cassie's sister is dumping the house, it was Mitch and Tonya's for the taking. 

When my clients first put an offer in on the home, we were told by the selling agent the washer, dryer and refrigerator belonged to the tenant and were not part of the deal. No problem.  My clients would either get their own or let any future tenant put them in.

Last week, three weeks before closing I sent Cassie the lease. Mitch and Tonya had made a special trip to Arizona in July to see the home, meet Cassie, find her utterly charming and then offer her a reduced (less than market) rent. Their thinking was if Cassie wanted to stay, she was taking fantastic care of the home, it would be tons easier to take $100 a month less than have her move out, have a vacant home and go through the process of finding a new tenant.

After I sent Cassie the lease, she in turn sent me an e-mail. The selling agent was wrong. The appliances weren't hers. Would Mitch and Tonya be willing to buy them from the owner (her sister) for some outrageous amount of money?

No. No they wouldn't.

Cassie tried another approach: she said she would be willing to buy them from her sister, but because money would now be tight, she wanted to know if she could get a lower rent amount to compensate for not having appliances. And oh! By the way, she wants to stay for years and years. And she has the lease all signed and ready to go. She'll send it in once she hears from me about the appliances. Just let her know what Mitch and Tonya decide. Ok?

The outrageous amount of money aside, Mitch and Tonya know nothing about the condition of these particular appliances. They have no desire to take on this liability. And besides, nobody is certain that Cassie doesn't really own the washer, dryer and refrigerator already and is trying to make a few extra dollars by saying they aren't hers. Not that I am suggesting Cassie is a thief, but the first month's rent and security deposits happen to equal exactly the amount Cassie says her "sister" wants for the appliances.

Here I am, trying to negotiate this. The other agent wants nothing to do with Cassie and the rental end (she didn't even know how to write up a purchase contract for a home with an existing tenant in place). So, I am handling the lease. And the ensuing drama. And Cassie. And my clients who read Cassie's note as a veiled threat.And, with a few years of landlord experience under my belt, that is exactly how I took it too.

I looked at the situation like this: the way it stood, there was going to be bad blood on one side of the other. Either Cassie was going to feel like she had been wronged because she was out the appliance money. Or if Mitch and Tonya gave in they were not going to be so willing to do additional favors down the road for Cassie. After talking to Mich and Tonya at some length, they did the only sane thing. They withdrew the lease.

Cassie, realizing she would be homeless in two weeks and she was not going to find anything as nice as where she lived now for the amount of money she would be paying, came rushing back. You know, she probably could work something out with her sister. Golly gosh! She certainly didn't mean her e-mail to sound like a threat. And she would be happy to sign the lease today. Wow! Cassie certainly hoped Mitch and Tonya didn't think she was the type of person who would threaten to hold a lease over their heads to get a washer, dryer and refrigerator. That is not what she was saying. Uh-huh. Never.

I now have the lease. I will be getting the rent and security deposit next week. The house closes at the end of the month. If all goes well, everyone will be happy. But I suspect Cassie wont be granted any favors any time soon.

Book Club with Diamond Jim

I met with Diamond Jim for our monthly Harry Potter book club. After asking me how I am handling Attorney Jon's death, and me giving him the only insight I had, as well as explaining that was two death's ago, bringing the grand total of people in my life who have passed on in the last four weeks to three, we moved on to other topics.

Of course, we also had to cover the state of the Diamondbacks (first place--thankyouverymuch) and how they have a better record than the Saint Louis Cardinals. Then we transitioned into college football and Dear Jim's Oregon Ducks. (for the record, I don't follow the Ducks any more than I follow the Crimson Tide, but please don't tell anyone). And finally ended at the Midway Museum in San Diego before settling down to the topic at hand. Incidentally, I simply must figure out a way to see the Midway Museum now.

When we got around to Harry, Ron and Hermonine, Jim told me where he is in The Goblet of Fire. Much to his relief, I brought him the next in the series, Order of the Phoenix, promising him it was my favorite. He was glad to have it, for fear he would have to wait a day or two and not be able to pick it right up after he finished book four. (You can imagine how the rest of us felt waiting for J. K. Rowling to finish writing each book).

He did tell me how he muddled through Prisoner of Azkaban with about the same level of reverence I have for tax season. Not that I disagree. Book three was my least favorite too. I did explain to him that it was necessary, as the stories expand upon each other. I also gave him a spoiler. There is a death in book four.

Of course there is a death in book five too.

And book six.

And about a dozen or more deaths in book seven.

Diamond Jim took it well, though he did comment The Goblet of Fire seems more "adult." Yep. Harry isn't a little kid any more.

Introspective

I've been down of late. There is not enough room in this patch of cyber-space to go into all of the stuff happening in my personal life. Let me sum it up: working too much. People dying.

What hasn't been happening is me paying enough attention to my accidental business. In fact, though I loathe to admit this, I have been doing the "what if" scenario. What if we let everything go?

Freedom

Sanity

The fact of the matter is, there is no reason to give up. I've made it this far. Things are tricky right now. Kirby isn't renting out my homes fast enough. I have one vacant and two coming vacant (got notice on another tenant yesterday) and a third, my tenant in Fultondale, being asked to leave by Kirby. I have two others with short-term personal problems that have become mine--though I didn't ask for them. If I think about everything too long, it gets to me and I start letting the "what if" scenarios creep in.

One of my daily preachings to my children is never to give up. Ever. Fight till the end. How ironic I have forgotten to follow my own advice.

A Special Day

Just wanted to give a shout to a special friend. Today is Busy Mommy's last chemo!

Denial

When Polly was about four, she asked me exactly how babies get out of mothers' tummies. When I finished the technical explanation, she just looked at me and with all seriousness and innocence and said, "But you barfed up me and Buckaroo, right?"

Who says you are too young for denial? Or, for that matter too old.

Marty Sunshine sent Mr. Partner an update on all things Alabama this week. He did it because I have spent more time on this blog of late than I have dealing with anything East of the Mississippi. And, it was time Mr. Partner knew we have a vacant home and a soon to be vacant home.

And then there is the Mrs. Sherwood issue...

And Ms. Angie has a itsy bitsy problem too that became my problem recently. But, more on that when I get around to part-time blogging again.

In this case, Mr. Partner took in all of Marty's e-mail and replied, "Sounds like we are still in the RED and not breaking even."

What a relief! I am so glad we finally got that out of the way. I was worried he wasn't catching on.

Unfinished Business

Note: In the event you find this post offensive, my apologies. I don't wish to dishonor Jon's memory or the mourning process--he truly was a wonderful man. However, as this blog is the day in the life of running an accidental business, this is part of a day in the life. It isn't fun and I seriously wish I wasn't doing these tasks. But, this is what I am up to.

I've lost two special people in the last three weeks through untimely, senseless deaths. Both ripped me up. Death is a natural process, but sometimes through unnatural means. And yet, we the living are left to sort out and find meaning for what is left. Even if there is no meaning.

I had breakfast with Diamond Jim on Thursday. Our usual Harry Potter book club and Diamondbacks discussion was marred with my questions: what do I do now? I have unfinished business. And, in this case, I mean just that--business. Attorney Jon was supposed to handle two things for me that I am not sure he did.

And, given Attorney Jon was a one-man show, I don't know where to proceed. What do I do? And exactly what is the etiquette here? When can I ask Legal Eagle to take care of these things? I can't wait too long, because someone is going to go through his office. I need her find what Attorney Jon didn't do before someone comes along and my paperwork is lost in the shuffle.

And for that matter, how do I find the paperwork? Attorney Jon had the originals. He also had a wonderful paralegal. Will she go through his papers? How do I get in touch with her? And precisely when is the appropriate time to try to leave a message for her? After all, technically she doesn't have a job any more.

Worse than that, Legal Eagle and Attorney Jon were friends. So I have to burden her with the added work when she is grieving. It seems heartless.

All of it.

Jon

I spoke with Legal Eagle briefly yesterday. Through our tears, we talked about how much we loved Jon. Everyone loved attorney Jon. I wish you all could have met him. He truly was a shining star, far above the others. He was a man of great character. He once told me his father told him to always shop at businesses that display the American flag. He said, "Those are businesses who understand we are in the land of opportunity." I am blessed to have known him.

This was in the Birmingham News today.

Horrible News

Some days just totally suck. Today is one of them.

My dear Attorney Jon passed away yesterday. He left behind a wife and five daughters.
Rest in His peace Jon.

A Small Price to Pay

So, Katie and Cole are looking to purchase a rental home. Luckily for them, they have found one. And, as luck would have it, there is a ready-made tenant in place.

Tammy and her seven year old son have lived in this home (under another landlord) for six years. They pay the rent on time. They take care of the home. The son goes to school just five minutes away. Grandma and Grandpa live around the corner and have watched the son since birth.

Currently Tammy is paying $800 a month. Truly a steal. This house could rent for much more. Tammy has told me she can swing $900.

Katie and Cole are buying this home for cash. Their monthly outlay (with home owners' association dues, taxes and insurance) is under $200. They want $950 a month. What did I think?

I think we are talking about $50 a month, or $600 for a year. What I explained to Katie and Cole was just that. What were they getting for a "loss" of $600? They have a tenant who hasn't moved in six years. Tammy takes great care of the home. She has put down roots and is truly happy where she is.

Meanwhile, Katie and Cole don't have a vacant home from the time Tammy moves out until a new tenant is found. They don't have to screen prospective tenants. They don't have to take a chance on a new tenant who might not be so kind. Katie and Cole don't have to pay for general maintenance and clean up when Tammy moves out. And, I assure you, the repair for the television Tammy currently has mounted to the living room wall will cost a good portion of the $600 they are "saving."

Conversely, what if Katie and Cole just came right out and asked for the additional $50 a month? Tammy might just pay it. But what if Tammy isn't stretching the truth?

I am convinced more drama takes place over a tenant living outside their budget than necessary. The tenant wants to stay. The tenant (normally) doesn't want to disappoint. The additional money troubles more often than not become the landlord's burden. And trust me, landlord's don't want to deal with a tenant's burden.

In this case, I happen to believe Tammy. I met her on Sunday. She and I were discussing baseball and she casually mentioned she cut her cable cut off because it wasn't in her budget. I saw the coupons sitting around the counter. Though we didn't talk outright about her rental situation, the conversation turned to the economy and her current state of affairs.

Tammy isn't a victim. She is trying to make it. She doesn't want to uproot her son. When Katie and Cole met her Sunday as well, they saw the same thing and they saw my point: $50 a month is a small price to pay to have a stable, long-term tenant.

Dream A Little Dream With Me

This is where I want to be right now.

 
This island is on the Gulf side of Flordia. You can only get there by boat or by plane. The beaches are pure white. The water is blue--not mucky ocean water. But blue.
 
There are no cars on the island--except the fire department. They have two trucks. And a boat.
 
Marty Sunshine's uncle lives here. Uncle Sunshine is the greatest human being in the world. Being around him inspires me.
 
 

I really want to go on vacation this year.

 

Really.

 

Really.

 

Really.

 

 

I would even suffer through seeing the over-stuffed commericalized mouse in Orlando just to go here.

 

 

This week I paid all of the home owners' insurances for our accidental business on my credit card. The LLCs have reimbursed me. Why? My credit card gives me frequent flyer miles for my (hopefully) vacation. 

 

I'm crossing my fingers and toes for a Decmeber vacation.

Surprise

So, it appears Ms. Robin is moving out. This comes as no surprise to me. She has been struggling to make the rent for the past year. Last week she came to this astounding revelation and took the time to share it with me on Thursday.

The funny thing was she would have come to the astounding revelation with or without my help. She was getting served by Carolsue on Monday--only because I figured it would take me until Sunday to catch up enough to make it happen.

There was a time when this was a no-brainier.  I (with Carolsue's help) get it rented, deal with tenant screening drama and a new person to write about would emerge. Not this time.

This time, I am letting Kirby handle it. There is still drama, but I don't have to be in the front lines. I don't have to answer the calls from the throngs of Birmingham's soon-to-be homeless wondering if I will accept king cobras, space aliens and Dodger's fans (no, yes as long as they have a job and NO WAY).

That is of course, if Kirby will take this home--because he still has yet to call me back. But no matter. I will probably loose track in a day or so, and by the time I get around to fretting that I haven't heard from him, he will be on my phone. Kirby's good that way. And I will be the one suprised.

Silliness

"That's silly," was the response from Bliz, when I told her what I had to do to avoid spending $11.95 per month in fees for one of our bank accounts. And, yes, the end result was silly.

You see, my bank has started charging business accounts this fee if they don't keep a minimum balance or pay three bills out of the account every month. For my other business accounts, it isn't a problem. For the account for the LLC we have with Jack, it is not going to happen. We have one house. We pay one mortgage every month (when the AC goes out or there is a minor snake infestation maybe another bill or two). That's the extent of it.

When I told Marty Sunshine of this, he said a lot of non-sunshiney type things and threatened to close shop at this bank. However, this bank has two things going for it. One: it has locations in Alabama and Arizona. And two: it has lower fees than other banks with locations in both places (are you listening Well's Fargo and Bank of America???).

My favorite bank manager, Jenny, who is now on her third branch since we met, helped me out by opening up a personal checking account. This simple little change should eliminate these fees.

Of course, I won't get all the additional business perks like.... um.... oh yea! like free cashier's checks (which I have never used). I will also have the added benefit of trying to explain to Jack--who is a signer on the old account--that he can be a signer on the new account by jumping through an amazing number of hoops.

Hopefully he won't think the whole thing is very silly.

And as a public service announcement:

I would like to point out if you are looking to rent a moving truck, and you opt to be totally nasty to the moving truck employee on the phone--who, by the way, is holding your entire future in your hands--you might end up being transferred to the wrong number or to a location where the employee is totally aware that particlar location is closed for the day.

The only reason you are transferred to one of the above locations, dear nasty customer who wants a moving truck and decides to call the employee trying to help you a "half-wit minimum wage grunt" is because the phone line at the location in the far reaches of hell is busy. I'm just saying...

Not that I would do something so unprofessional. But there are others who might.

Random Bama

The Y'all job is keeping me hopping. I enjoy having money coming in. I am not appreciating the lack of consistency in the hours. I was finally getting used to 6 *(@!*& a.m., when they changed the schedule and gave me afternoons. Except Friday and Saturday this week where I have both.

But, the afternoon schedule will hopefully give me some time to handle some of the real estate items I have on the front burner.

Just for the record, the best way to avoid this particular lifestyle is not to buy homes on credit.
___________________________________________________________________

It appears Kirby is asking my tenant on Fultondale to leave. At least that was the game plan as of last week. I do recall a time when I was frustrated Kirby wouldn't contact me on a regular basis. Now he waits for me.

But, back to the tenant in Fultondale. Allegedly she paid May's rent. However, because she was peripherally affected by the devastating tornadoes in April, she asked us to hold May's rent (she couldn't get to her home for several days because of downed trees and power lines as well as debris peppering the main drag of Fultondale. She said she had to stay in a hotel).

June's rent hasn't materialized and for whatever reason Kirby doesn't think the May check is good. So, he is bribing asking her to leave. He is going to offer her $200 if she just goes and cleans up on her way out the door.

Hopefully this will be resolved soon.
___________________________________________________________________


Mrs. Sherwood called me last week. Her dilemma? Mr. Sherwood got a good in Yuma, Arizona. Did I know anything about the place? Well, yes I do. But Yuma is affectionately referred to as an armpit--though I think that is probably an insult to armpits everywhere.

Mrs. Sherwood will not be joining Mr. Sherwood until she finishes three more semesters of nursing school. But she was curious about rents. Mr. Sherwood was told he could find a modest one bedroom apartment for the $1800 a month range. Did that sound reasonable?

As a matter of fact, it did not. I suspect she might be able to find a mansion in Yuma for less than that. I need her to be able to afford my rent along with the Yuma rent, so I offered to do some checking. I hate to loose Mrs. Sherwood.  Perhaps Yuma won't be real popular with Mr. Sherwood either.

The Main Thing

A long time ago when I worked for an itty-bitty pet food megastore chain (which has since become a gargantuan pet food megastore chain), one of the VPs had a sign up in his cubicle:

The Main Thing is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing

Now then, I'll be happy to wait right here while you process that. Take your time.

Ok now, this particular ditty applies to all walks of life. Including being a landlord. If I had to pick the main thing for being a landlord it would simply be: pick the right tenant.

I know, easier said than done. But I have to tell you from my own experiences, my life is infinitely easier when I have picked the right tenants.

And of course, sadly the converse is true too. Pick a crummy tenant; start blogging.

Good tenants aren't always the ones with the best credit or the highest income--although that does weigh heavily in my decisions. But really, the best tenants are the ones with the best character.

Character means the person on the the application in front of me looks an awful lot like the person I am speaking with on the phone. Character means everyone understands this is a business relationship, and the person renting my home is aware they must do their part to make this business relationship work (pay on time+keep the grass cut=don't get evicted).

Everyone has personal issues. But being accountable for the stuff life throws your way goes a long way in my book. Someone with a history of doing such, will probably continue acting the same way once they move in too.

Just Blowing Hot Air

I have been paying more attention to this blog of late than I have been to the properties in Alabama (and if you are still with me, you know how often of late I am updating). That is, until Wednesday.

Coincidentally, Wednesday I called in sick to my wonderful job (a company that sounds a lot like "y'all"). But, I am wondering exactly how life would have gone if I hadn't. Wednesday, the new tenant for the home Jack and I own started out our day by e-mailing me at 5 a.m. to tell me the air conditioning didn't work. And, not to worry. He had someone coming out right then and there. The company he sent out told me I need a new unit and they would be happy to oblige.

The new tenant now knows not to call AC companies without consulting me first.

Speaking of AC companies, I got a nice message at 6 a.m. from Glenda from the Most Awesomist AC Company in Birmingham (I believe Mr. and Mr. Awesomist now own a beach house on some remote island thanks to me and my rentals). You see, Ms. Angie has been having AC problems and Awesomist AC has been going out to take care of them. This is strange because the AC is three years old. The first time it was a part under warranty. The second time it was low on freon. The third time it was low on freon again.

It turns out one of the neighbor kids has been huffing freon from Ms. Angie's AC unit. I am not amused. Ms. Angie is not amused. "What is wrong with kids these days?! Whatever happened to just using White Out?" I asked, before I could catch myself.

Ms. Angie, the perfect tenant, came forward with her own solutions. She asked if I minded if she got a dog or a gun to keep the neighbor kids out of the back yard. Did I have a preference? I actually preferred a padlock. Cheaper, less mess and less liability for me in the long run. Hopefully she will pick option three.

Hmm... Maybe I Really Did Win The Alabama Lottery?

Let me back up a bit. A long time ago, I got a call from a woman who did not leave a name or phone number. The call came from an unidentified number, so there was absolutely no way to get back in touch with this woman even if I wanted to. The woman in question told me she was a lawyer and to call her back immediately or her "client" was suing me.

Once in a while I have also gotten phone calls from a variety of attorneys in the past. Generally the calls go like this, "Hello Mrs. Landlord, this is Prunella Jean McGillacutty, I am legal counsel for Mr. and Mrs. Jedidiah Wronged, I would like to discuss with you the impending situation and how we can come to a peaceful resolution. I would also be happy to discuss with Attorney Jon--your attorney of record--if you are unavailable or would prefer. I can be reached at...." (As a quick disclaimer, I have never been sued, nor do I do things to get me sued--but that doesn't stop those with a sense of entitlement from trying).

As you can see there is a big difference in quantity and quality of information. The first caller used words like "lawyer" and wanted to sue. The second one used words like "counsel" and "attorney." The second caller wanted solutions.

So then, fast forward to this past week. Though this could be about anything, because all his been eerily silent with Haroldine of late, I jumped to some conclusions. I got an unusual phone message from a 205 area code. It was a fast-talking, southern drawled woman who said, "Hello Landlord. My name is Roberta Rooster. You need to call me back." She didn't leave a number; she didn't give a reason.

Of course, I have her number from caller ID, but I don't have a compelling desire to run up my cell minutes talking to a stranger who couldn't be bothered to even give me a reason to call back. What I did find very interesting about Roberta's call was that I was given the option to reply via my voice mail--suggesting she had called me on a cell. Do attorneys call on cell phones at 2 in the afternoon?

Anyway, I decided to sleep on this latest crazy phone call and then I opted to do nothing. If this woman is a lawyer representing Haroldine, there is no case--Haroldine wasn't my tenant.

If she is an attorney representing Harold, I have a bigger issue--but the law is on my side. However, I would have to haul myself to Birmingham and spend more money than necessary to prove I am right--which I am.

I have no idea who this woman is and the reason she called. For all I know, she could be calling to tell me I won the Alabama lottery. However, I really don't feel like finding out. But more to the point, her phone was a catalyst to take care of something weighing on me. I sent Harold an accounting of everything paid in. I should have done it weeks ago. It was a pretty letter, with big, multi-syllable words with a twist of professional bitchy thrown in.

I should have sent it out weeks ago, once it appeared Haroldine was "confused" where Harold's deposit might have wandered off to. I made it very clear this time, there was no room for confusion.

I explained because they were late, they opted to move out instead of being evicted and because they left the place clean, I would not legally go after the remaining owed rent in form of a garnishment of Harold's wages. And no, they aren't getting their security deposit back, no matter how many names they call me.

Of course, when they were living there, I didn't use words like "eviction" and "garnishment." I merely suggested moving out because they couldn't afford to stay. That was cheaper (so far) and a lot less messy than an eviction. But the meaning then and now is the same.

Harold should be getting the copies of the letter via certified and regular mail early this week. I would like to believe the matter is now closed, but I am guessing Haroldine will be calling (or her friend Roberta) sometime soon.

Musical Homes

Might you step back in the wayback machine to last year. I had my tenant on Hysteria Lane move out. I only found this out because a neighbor managed to hunt me down and bawl me out for my poor choice of renters. The reason this was news to me is the tenant continued to pay rent, long after she left.

Once Kirby tracked her down, through my begging directive, Kirby offered to let her out of her lease if she would just go. But, she didn't want to. She essentially paid a lot of money to store a few belongings in an empty home (and pay the utilities and keep up the yard). Truly a storage locker would have been significantly cheaper. But in the end, she held up her end of the bargain.

Fast forward to October of last year. Her lease was about up. I was getting my home back. I was happy to have that chapter close, knowing I would get a new tenant eventually who would actually live in the home. And that's when  the tenant in question came back and asked to move back into this home. Pretty please.

My only concession was I wasn't willing to give her a year lease. I wanted her lease up in the summer so I would have a better selection of potential tenants to choose from. She obliged.

Coming as no surprise to Kirby or I, the tenant on Hysteria Lane gave her notice this week. She's moving out at the end of June. I am a bit sorry to see her leave. She pays on time and from what I have been told, maintains the property.

Though I have to tell you the neighbors next door don't seem to like her and her evil ways. Did you know she homeschools? How awful! What that woman is doing to her children! Can you believe it?! Yes, the tenant who hunted me down last year gave me an earful on that one too.

In an odd turn of events, I have a new renter for this home. My tenant who lives at my Waterford home would like to rent it. He is ready, willing and able to switch over as soon as it comes available. This is great news, as the one on Hysteria Lane costs slightly more. However, the home in Waterford is harder to rent.

My only requests to Kirby about the whole thing were to please make sure at least one (but preferably both) clean up on their way out. I don't need to spring for two cleanings. Also, allow us to show the Waterford home while they are moving. And, more to the point, have the soon-to-be-ex-Waterford-tenant sign a new lease, ending in the summer. I think this is going to be something I insist upon in the future. I don't want leases ending in November.

An Ego Boost

But first: a shout out to our dear Busy Mommy. She is half way through her chemo and kicking cancer's butt. Stay strong and keep the faith my friend.

I did Ms. Shirley a favor recently. I let her pay late when she announced she was paying late. And, thanks to my alternative work schedule, at the time she told me I was too dull-witted to give her any grief.

Tuesday I received a text from her. I have no idea what prompted it and I am not going to read too much into it or wonder if she accidentally sent it to me instead of the local postal worker. It was a very sweet message and completely out of the blue. Simply, she wrote me and thanked me for my kindness.

Welcome to my alternative universe.

Gutsy

I admit it. I pick my tenants partially from gut feel. Last year my home in Pinson was available and I had a couple I just didn't like. I couldn't put my finger on it, but they didn't sit well with me. My gut was screaming, "no!" Then, the male of the group got ugly with me and still expected to rent. So, I had an out.

Later on I found out that jerk guy is one of Mr. Smith's 26 Facebook friends (Mr. Smith being the former tenant who will forever be known as the Tenant from Hell). It is not a violation of Federal Fair Housing laws to deny housing to anyone based on their friendship with Mr. Smith.

I also had gotten a call from this couple. I remember her--only because of her name. Carolsue remembered them too.  At the time, they were part of the menagerie of crummy folks I wasn't excited to rent my home. It turns out my gut was right. I am not making light of this murder, but I have to tell you, I am really glad this didn't become my headache.

We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Blog...

to announce that the Diamondbacks are now in first place.

(A real blog scheduled for tomorrow, today is happy dance day!)

The Brain Dead Edition

There have been a couple of you (that would be two) of my five readers who actually notice I am not writing as much. It isn't personal.

It is because of two mitigating factors:

1. The drama right now is at a minimum, but I am expecting a vacant home and Haroldine to sue me at any time.

2. In addition to that whole real estate thing, I am working a summer job that requires me to show up and clock in at 6 a.m. Yes, you read that correctly. Morning. The job itself is grounds for a blog.  

There are Alabama things going on, of course. But I haven't really been keeping tabs too much. For example, I forgot to deposit the rent checks. This doesn't bode well with my bank account. Fortunately my mortgage payments didn't bounce.

Ms. Shirley has a few repairs that I need to direct to Mr. 114. But, he is busy rebuilding Birmingham after the tornado damage. And I am too flighty to find someone else to do it. Ms. Shirley is still being totally grateful I took care of the sewage back up in record time and isn't grossing too loudly about her floor. Did I mention I question the sanity of the person who put wood flooring in a bathroom? I'm just saying...

I haven't followed up on my problem tenants, except a text here and there. I haven't talked to Carolsue in ages. I haven't called Legal Eagle in a while to ask random questions and I haven't managed to get in touch with Attorney Jon who is supposedly taking care of an issue that I need taken care of months ago.

Pretty much, I am maintaining. And I am ok with that. It is actually pretty satisfying to be in a place where it is possible to let things just be. It is a long time coming.

I'm Keeping the Vineyard

Though I don't consider myself superstitious by nature, there are a few things that make me run screaming towards my happy place. One of them is summer. A few summers ago, when my blogs were more prolific, I had drama. Lots of it. Marty Sunshine was buying Costco quanitities of wine and chocolate and rationing it out to me in amounts he thought my liver could handle. The following summer was version 2.0 and Marty wisely bought a vineyard and stock in Hershy.

Last summer, because of better tenants and random dumb luck, I only vacationed in my happy place. There was no need to cower in the corner, thinking of babbling brooks and cool mountain air--unless I wanted to. It was a nice change. However, just like Pavlov's dog, I find that I still have triggers.

One of those triggers is phone calls from any tenant at 8 p.m. on a Tuesday night. In this case, Ms.  Shirley called in a panic. Her message said "back up" and "sewage." I did what any reasonable landlord would do, I called Mr. 114--her next door neighbor.

Now, it isn't as if I didn't believe Ms. Shirley, it is just that I am hesitant to call a plumber after hours unless there is a really, really good reason. Mr. 114, the awesome neighbor he is, zipped right over and called me back 10 minutes later. He said. Call the plumber. Now!

Apparently all of the showers/tubs/sinks were backing up. And, in some cases spilling out over the hardwoods. Fortunately for Ms. Shirley my plumber is willing to show up at 10 p.m. I am sure his bill will reflect this.

As for the damage, it doesn't sound like it is enough to make an insurance claim but enough to be a complete headache. I told Ms. Shirley to get the downstairs carpet cleaned. I also told her to have Mr. 114 check out the wood floors. It sounds like the bathroom floor will need to be replaced with a nice, neutral tile. (I ask you, who puts wood floors in a bathroom?) 

I prefer not to have plumbing backups in my home. But, it could have been a lot worse. Many people who shy away from being landlords cringe at this sort of thing. I certainly can appreciate that. But, I have personally lived my own version of this very late one Thanksgiving evening.

In Ms. Shirley's case she reacted quickly. The plumber was there within two hours. It looks like a carpet cleaning and a weekend tile project for Mr. 114 are in order. Ms. Shirley is being cool about the whole thing. She isn't screeching that I have caused her unnecessary harm. In fact, she thanked me for being on top of everything. And, if that is the worst my summer drama gets, perhaps we can sell the Hershey stock.

Good for Her

As most of you know, Saturday was predicted to be the Second Coming. I'm still here. And so is my family. Oddly enough, since Saturday, I have heard from several tenants. 

However, I can't find Ms. Angie anywhere. And, if anyone would be worthy to be called Home, it would be her. Hopefully she sent the rent check before she left.

Not Cool

By way of a a pitiful explanation, I worked job number one and job number two on Thursday and was so tired I couldn't even type this blog if I tried. My brain was so fried I couldn't even focus on the baseball game. I hear the Snakes won.

So, when I stupidly answered my phone, after seeing a 205-area code, it my own fault. It was Haroldine. The last time I heard from her was two weeks earlier when we discussed why she wasn't getting her deposit back. The reason for this call was to rehash her reasons she deserved her deposit refunded (and to let me know--in the event I missed it the first time--her opinion of me). It didn't really matter. My stance still hadn't changed, but my mood certainly had.

I would like to tell you I said something along the lines of "bless your heart." But at that exact moment, there was nothing left in me. Instead, as she bawled me out, I just put my phone down and walked away, taking care of the immediate events unfolding in my life, and more to the point, letting her call me names into the cellular void.

When I did come back, I heard her say, "Are you still there?"

Sadly I was, but my manners weren't. I told her I was done with her for the night. I also told her--only because I wasn't thinking quickly--if she wanted to rehash this, she would have to call me back on Friday. I really didn't feel like chatting. And then I said bye and hung up before she could protest any further.

After waking at 5 a.m. and dealing with people of all walks of life with all types of crises on Thursday, Haroldine's pissy fit didn't even make the radar of things that phase me (Sticks and stones Haroldine!). But it still doesn't warrant me to loose my cool--not that I care too much. I don't owe her a deposit. If I did, I assure you, I would pay it. I don't steal.

An Open Letter

Dear Tenants,

I don't care if the world is ending and Jesus is coming back on Saturday like some preacher says, your rent is still due. Pay up!

Cordially,
The Landlord

The Accidental Friendship

Once upon a time, in the dark days before Bliz started handling my books, I had Bookkeeper Erin. Erin lasted two months and, much to Erin's dismay, I ended up getting the Arizona Attorney General's office involved with the whole affair.

Erin may never really want to hear my name again.  But then again, she shouldn't have opted to steal from me. I'm just saying...

The single, most wonderful thing that ever came out of the two months of Erin hell was that she recommended Diamond Jim the CPA.

Diamond Jim was born somewhere shy of 70 years ago. He grew up in Las Vegas, with both his grandfather and father working on the Hoover Dam project in the 1930s. At some point in his teen years he spent some time on the Navajo Indian Reservation. And one of closest friends in high school is a former governor of Nevada. He has led a full life.

Diamond Jim has been doing taxes for about 30 years in the Mesa area. He is well respected in the community. He is one of the most dynamic men I have ever met. When we go to breakfast (about once a month) there are at least two or three random folks who come up to shake his hand and say hello. He knows everyone on a first-name basis. Why he hangs out with me is anyone's guess.

Our breakfast chats of business, taxes and real estate are peppered with stories of the antics about his grandsons, grousing over Diamondbacks losses, the Oregon Ducks, politics, history, current events, naturally occurring weather phenomena and our ongoing debate over which book is better, "The Cather in the Rye" or "The Stand".

I find him fascinating and am proud to call him my friend. With the exception of my summer employment, he is pretty much the only reason I am willing to wake up before 7 a.m. any day of the week. Which brings me to the reason we are meeting in a few hours...

Diamond Jim sent me a note last Friday. You see, he has a major dilemma and he felt confident enough in our friendship that he thought he could ask me to help. He had just come back from visiting his grandchildren in South Carolina. While he was visiting, the older of the two boys finished, "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince." The younger was reading "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

Diamond Jim is many things--including completely clueless about Harry Potter. As he said to me Friday as way of explaining why he wanted to meet, "I have until I go back to visit in September to learn everything there is about Harry Potter. Will you teach me?"

Yes. Yes I will. Even though it is 11:54 p.m. as I write this. I will get up at some horrid hour to introduce him to the adventures of Harry, Ron and Hermione. I will loan him the first audio book and see if I can fill him in enough so that he can be the cool granddad with Timmy and Ricky. After all, that's what friends are for.

The Noble Mr. Noble

Mr. Noble e-mailed me on Sunday. If he hadn't, I was planning on contacting him anyway. You see, his lease is up next month. What he wanted to know is if he could go month-to-month?

I was so pleased to read this. For one thing, I was pretty certain he would be leaving after his lease. And, with my two newish problem tenants, it made my heart sing to know I could delay Mr. Noble's inevitable departure another few months (and hopefully he won't choose to move out in December).

But even more to the point, even though leases have their place, I actually prefer month-to-month with my established tenants. With a 30 day notice, they can give notice. Or, I can give them notice. Or, if I really want them out but think just giving them notice isn't exactly going to go well, I can tell them in 30 days I am raising the rent by $500. If they don't move, the garnishment will be more. But, it is certainly motivating for them to leave.

In Mr. Noble's case, I suspect he prefers a short-term commitment. Last year he took issue with my lease when I put him on the hook for an entire year (hence, the purpose of the lease). Perhaps he is looking to purchase a home? Or perhaps after last month's tornadoes he is seeing the Birmingham rental housing market become more scarce (my personal fantasy)? Either way, he is staying for now.

Believe It or Not

Jim and Mary are landlords. They came by this honestly, knowing full well they were planning on doing so when they opted to buy a bigger home a few years ago. Recently their rental went vacant for the first time in three years, and they traversed into the new territory of tenant screening.

When this happened, Jim's first call was to me. Did I happen to have a rental application he might be able to use? Yes, yes I did. I even offered to run credit and a background check.

A few weeks later, Jim followed through, sending me said completed application and asking me to do my magic. Jim isn't the first friend who has asked for help this way. Because I am something akin to a "legitimate business" I have signed up with a company that will run these searches. They just don't run them for the average Tom, Jim and Mary.

What I got back was a pretty reasonable picture of the tenant to be. A single woman, presumably going through a divorce. I knew this just by looking at her credit report--she has a house payment but she is moving. Her credit score is fabulous. People with fabulous credit scores don't generally walk away from the homes they bought more than 10 years ago without good reason. Hence, a divorce.

The prospective tenant in question also had a bit of consumer debt. On her application, she said one number, the credit report said another. It wasn't too far off, but I am guessing she downplayed it for Jim and Mary's sake.

When I talked to Jim and Mary I gave them the information. I told them I was somewhat concerned about the amount of consumer debt, and would want to know the stability of the prospective tenant's job. If her job is stable, then by all means, she can pay her bills and she won't be an issue. Additionally, I would want to know who is assuming the long-term debt in the marriage. The last thing Jim and Mary need three months from now is to hear rent was going to be late because the prospective tenant needed to make a car payment. But otherwise, this person looked good to go.

"You would not believe the number of weirdos I  have talked to." Mary confided in me, regarding the applicants she had received before this woman.

Actually, I would believe the number of weirdos Mary had talked to. And yes, based on what I saw on her application and background check, this tenant was definitely a dream come true.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I should begin by telling you the first thing Haroldine said to me on Monday was "Happy Mother's Day." Our conversation went downhill from there.

It appears Haroldine is furious with me. I didn't return her deposit. And, I am not going to.

Haroldine was one of my few tenants whose rent was originally due on the first day of the month. When Haroldine's life started getting dicey, I offered to change her payment due date to the 15 of the month, so that she wouldn't incur late fees. Tenants who can't pay the rent, don't have the late fees either.

Haroldine readily agreed to this change. But somehow she was still paying late--like the beginning of the next month. So, the rent for the March 1 through the 31st--with a payment due date of March 15--was getting to me on April 1.

What I didn't understand was that in Haroldine's mind, her rent dates had magically shifted from the 15th of the month to the 14th of the following month--in essence, she had 15 days rent free. In my book, all that changed was the actual date her payment was supposed to arrive--and yet, never did. Her rent payment was still for the first of the month until the end of the month.

When Haroldine and I talked about her being out by April 30, I told her we would use her deposit for April's rent. That would be April 1 through 30th. Haroldine thought her (late) March payment was from March 15 through April 14. However, I didn't know that at the time. I certainly do now.

It never occurred to me Haroldine was thinking this way. After all, it made perfectly good sense to me. I was helping a tenant out so they can get the *^%$& rent check to me closer to the due date. Not that she ever did.

Sadly, I didn't understand Haroldine somehow thought differently until Monday when she asked where her deposit was. And she was none-too-happy when I told her it wasn't being refunded. Of course, at the time, I wasn't aware she thought I gave her 15 free days of rent. And even though I explained it a few times, apparently in her eyes I went from being an "understanding Christian woman" to  a "nasty, greedy money-grubbing woman who takes advantage of poor working folks."

I am kind of sad it came to this. And more importantly I'm sad there was a misunderstanding that could have been easily remedied early on. Haroldine lashing out doesn't really bother me. Money is on the line. I am fair about money and I don't take what isn't mine. This one is mine.

I have no idea if Haroldine is going to sue me or not. She said she was. But, I see that as a lot of effort for $500 she won't win. It will cost me a lot more to fly out to defend Haroldine's assertion (provided Jack can't do it--but I bet he can). Haroldine said a lot of other unflattering things too. I can live with that. But, just like the tenant who tried to ruin me for saying Happy Mother's Day, Haroldine has now ruined this favor for other future tenants.

A Tale of Two Landlords

I've been doing this for a few years. Up until three years ago, the whole landlord-thingy went smoothly. I thought at the time it was because of my awesome management skills. It turns out the economy was better and--at least at that time--most of my super-bad decisions hadn't come back to bite me.

Then one day I went to dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Partner's home. We were discussing all things Alabama and I lamented at how I had a tenant or two who just drove me nuts. I shouldn't have rented to them in the first place. Mr. Partner slowly turned his head and said, "Get rid of them. You don't need the headache." Little did he know what kind of headache would ensure.

Of course, "getting rid of them" led to a lot of great blog fodder. After all, bad decisions are good stories. I also found out that my "tenant or two" was really more like six or seven. And, because I was already on a roll, why not just weed out all the crummy ones?

It took two years to kiss goodbye my deadbeats and my stomach lining. And, for those of you who were paying attention, it wasn't an easy process. Deadbeats don't go quietly. Actually, deadbeats don't really just go. They need prodding from the court system.

What I found was I had different echelons of deadbeats. I had the ones like Wayward and Mr. Smith who needed to go a long time before I removed them. I had others like Mr. Richards who were limping along because they paid but stayed under the radar because their shenanigans weren't as offensive as others. Eventually they all left me but their own variety of drama remained. Mr. Richards for example left me with a freezer full of meat in a home with no electricity.

When I say that Ms. Kathy or Ms. Shirley are issues, they are nothing compared to the years prior. In both of their cases, they just needed to change creditors. I am not going to carry them a bit longer so they can pay their other bills or head to the bingo parlor on a Saturday night.

Which brings me to today. I have two tenants who, through experience, tell me I shouldn't be letting limp along. Both I believe will move if I ask. But, I am not sure I want to ask. The experienced landlord says this doesn't bode well. But they aren't the Wayward/Mr. Smith/Mr. Richards/Ms. Betty types. They are decent, hard working, communicative folks who have always paid on time (more or less) and have gotten themselves in a situation. I am cautious to say, "this is different" than before because the words are the same, but they are coming from different types of people.

Tenant A: Before her life changed, she paid on time and left me alone. About a year ago, all heck broke loose and she has had the darnest time keeping up with the bills. I get her rent check broken into two chucks throughout the month. He lease is up soon. I suspect she will look into moving. I know she isn't going to find cheaper for the amount of home she has if she leaves. She will soon find out too. But more to the point, she has never, ever been an issue.

At the moment, I can go on indefinitely with this arrangement if she will. However, I know if she moves I can ask much more for the home. But I am taking my chances on another tenant who might have baggage.

I hate tenant baggage.

At least with Tenant A I know where she stands. She communicates on a regular basis and hasn't caused me a lick of grief in three years.

Tenant B: She has rented from me for four years. Lik e Tenant A, she doesn't make her problems mine. A few months ago, her husband lost his job, but all she did was let me know. She continued to pay and then she got laid off too. Now, rent is super-late. She is communicating with me about what is going on, but only after I pointed out communicating with me is in her best interest. She is embarrassed. I know she is working on rent.Her husband was supposed to get a job offer the day the tornadoes hit Birmingham. Now his job is up in the air. I suspect if I allow her to go on limping, she will eventually straighten out.

I am expecting (minus Tenant A) at least two, maybe three vacancies this summer. One of them is one of the homes Kirby manages. Given the now shortage of rental homes in Birmingham, it might keep my tenants with me longer. And, if they do go vacant, I suspect I will have my choice of new tenants.

But vacancies cost money. So, Tenant A and B not stepping up make me more vulnerable. The experienced landlord in me says not to make bargains with folks who struggle. Giving a teensy bit gives the wrong impression that I am weak. But the other experienced landlord in me says to work with tenants who deserve a chance. They don't have baggage and (so far) they have honor.

Hopefully I am listening to the right experienced landlord.

In Case You Are Reading This, Happy Mother's Day

When I testified last February, one of the baselines the lawyer for my former tenant used to justify she (the former tenant) and I had been "friends" was that I had wished her a Happy Mother's Day. It was a lame attempt at the time, and even now I laugh about it. But Legal Eagle warned me not to do it again.

Mother's Day is important to me. My life changed the moment I found out I was pregnant with Polly--a child who was never supposed to be. Today, I received two e-mails from tenants wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. I would have preferred to send back a note of the same, but I know better. One bitter tenant ruined it for the rest of my very good tenants.

I no longer wish tenants Happy Mother's Day. I no longer send baby presents to tenants who are new mothers or grandmothers. I no longer acknowledge birthdays or other special occasions that make life so personal that tenants share with me. Why? Because I don't know if I will ever have to testify against another tenant. I won't take that chance again.

A Sweet Southern Story

So... Jack knows I am phobic about snakes.

My phobia is so bad that I walked out of Raiders of the Lost Ark when I was a kid. I still haven't seen it. (I am up in the air about Harry Potter 7.2. Maybe I can just hide behind Buckaroo during any scene with a snake... but I digress.)

Now when Jack and I talk, he refers to the snakes as "critters." It is his way of making it sound less scary.

It isn't working, but I don't want to hurt his feelings.

Its All A Matter Of Timing

Harold and Haroldine moved out last week. I really liked Haroldine. Harold, not so much.

Harold has since then called me, looking for handyman work--after all, aren't I a rich landlord who has a gazillion homes. Certainly one or 12 must have been affected by last week's tornadoes? Too bad he wasn't this attentive while he was living in my home (or while Haroldine was living in my home, struggling to make the rent every month, crying to me on the phone about how she was getting loans from family and friends to cover rent).

The newest tenant for Jack and I is Mr. and Mrs. Little. Here's what I have to say about them: gainfully employed, decent credit score and articlate. Articulate carries a lot of weight with me. Mr. Little would like keys as soon as possible so he can get into the home, clean and "fix anything that needs to be fixed." Of course the house is clean and fixed up, so this was news to me. But, whatever. I really don't want the house vacant.

And though his lease starts next week, we are sorta accomodating Mr. Little's request. But first Jack is letting Keith the Snake Snatcher over this week to (hopefully) finish his task. With any luck, Haroldine left her hoe behind and Keith won't have too much trouble. Once Keith is done, Mr. Little can have keys.

But for the Grace of God

It appears that most of my gazillion tenants are all accounted for. I haven't heard back from about four of them. But, it looks like so far no damage. I will be in awe if I am the only homeowner in Birmingham who doesn't have to file an insurance claim.

Kirby is supposed to get back to me about the house in Fultondale and the one in Leeds. But, he seems to think the house in Fultondale is fine--even though across the road the Zaxby's and the rest of the shopping center are all splinters now.

Ms. Kathy checked in on Friday. She and her family are fine. However, her neighborhood suffered tremendous damage. There are several homeless neighbors.. Ms. Kathy's home was untouched, minus a tree that fell on to her fence. And even of that, the fence wasn't damaged.

Chatting with Ms. Kathy filled me with a tremendous amount of gratitude. I had tears streaming as she told me about how the neighborhood had organized certain homes for the homeless and how they--as a community--had organized relief efforts for each other.

Given the amount of damage, I must say, I feel totally blessed to be so fortunate. I am glad my tenants were safe and have a place to live. It could have looked very different.

(On a side note, in my other job on Friday I talked to a man in Tuscaloosa. He only had the clothes he was wearing and his couch left. The apartment he was living in is uninhabitable and he needed to rent a truck to move his couch. It made me cry all over again.).

A Note from Mr. Noble

I heard from Mr. Noble this morning. He and the Mrs. are fine. He added this:  "...it was weird to see dead birds and pieces of wood raining from the sky." 

Tornado Update

I spent Thursday tracking down folks. Apparently, concern is a good enough reason for Ms. Shirley to decide we were on a first-name basis--at least for that moment. Her family is fine. She is also under the impression Mr. 114 and his family are fine too. Of course, she rehashed variations of what I have heard on the news, also including "I've never seen anything like it."

Mr. and Mrs. Robin are good too. Their home needed a new roof before the storm. But apparently it held up well. It is still in tact, so no insurance claim there that I know of. Ms. Robin hadn't seen anything like Tuesday's storms either.

Mrs. Sherwood had never seen anything like it either. When I talked to her, she told me of sitting in the basement, spending four hours clutching to her two year old granddaughter. Both were scared out of their minds. Sadly, Mrs. Sherwood had a casualty. She couldn't get to her dog in time. She doesn't know where he is--or if he is even alive any more.

One of the biggest cells from the storms Wednesday was aiming right at Carolsue, Mrs. Sherwood and Ms. Angie. All three told me they thought they were goners. All three told me the storm made an abrupt left turn, aiming North towards Pinson, then West towards Fultondale. I haven't talked to my tenants in those areas yet.

I put a note out two a few others and just haven't heard back. One of whom is Ms. Kathy. She is actually someone I need a welfare check on. Carolsue tells me most likely Ms. Kathy just doesn't have power. I am hoping that is just the case. One of the F5 touched down very close to her home. Her home is in the back of the neighborhood, but tornadoes aren't very fussy about where they land.

For those who didn't see it, here is the link to the video Carolsue posted.

Unspeakable

I live in the desert. Once a year, usually in August, we get a monsoon. A monsoon is a really awesome thunderstorm with lots of wind and rain.

For the majority of my life, these storm have been the highlight of the summer, with fantastic lightening, that we watch bravely from inside our homes. When the lightening has passed, the neighbors all congregate outside--around 10 p.m. to take in the rain, splash in the puddles (we even get puddles for an hour or two!) and enjoy the cooler weather. It is a ritual handed down from the first settlers of the area: the Hohokam Indians. Except the Hohokam kids weren't sucking on frozen Otter Pops while they splashed.

Although we get an occasional microburst, for the most part, our "weather" creates a downed power line or two, with electricity restored to the grid within a couple hours. Our biggest inconvenience is having to reset our digital clocks the next morning while they are blinking "1:43."

We don't get  unusually warm and humid conditions in the lower atmosphere, with cooler than usual conditions in the upper atmosphere all congregating together to form tornadoes. We don't get these here because the air doesn't cool down and we don't have humidity. Lucky us.

In the past few days, tornadoes have ravaged the mid-west and South. Bliz and Alec's city made the news from some of the phenomenal damage suffered there.

Birmingham this past week has been hit horribly. Less than an eighth of a mile from Ms. Kathy's home (and about two miles from my Leeds home) a tornado tore the roof off the Moody police station. I texted Ms. Kathy once I heard. I haven't gotten a response. 

I had two tenants texting me weather reports today. None of it sounded pretty. I am hearing F5 tornadoes are running rampage in Jefferson County. I don't care about the houses. I have insurance. But I am concerned about the people. My prayers are with them.

RIP

Apparently $200 for snake removal is not as much of a bargain as I once thought. According to Haroldine, she and her trusty garden hoe took matters into her own hands on Sunday. There is now one less water moccasin living under her home.

Ssssneaky

Harold sent me an urgent voice mail on Easter morning. It was in his rapid rambling thick Southern drawl, and the only words I could make out were: "snakes" and "going month to month." Neither concept excited me.

When I got him back on the phone--and after I made sure to wish him a Happy Easter--I started to decipher what he was saying. Marty Sunshine, who was sitting next to me while Harold was talking, heard "zum, zum, zum." Of course, that is about what I heard too. I was frantically searching my Southern to English translation book to catch on to half of what he said.

The gist was he wasn't sure the snakes were gone. Noted. I will tell Jack.

And, he thinks there is a water drainage problem on the property. For only $500 Harold would be happy to dump a few loads of dirt and rent some sort of heavy machinery to divert the water away from the area in question.

I have no idea if this is a good idea or not. But, I wasn't really all that concerned. I will pass it on to Jack this week and let him decide. I vote no. The snakes weren't a problem before two weeks ago.

The zinger that really caught my attention (and this was higher on the urgent chain than "snakes") was that he was not planning on moving this next weekend. In fact, he wanted to negotiate something about staying on for a little while longer.

Let me see if I understand this: Haroldine, his girlfriend, has been struggling to make the rent for the past several months. Harold has been nowhere in this picture and hasn't contributed a penny towards rent. Now, after I have a new tenant ready to move in and they have been given notice to leave, Harold calls me wanting to stay.

A few theories:

1. Harold and Haroldine broke up, and just got back together and want to play house one more time.
2. They are disorganized and haven't bothered to find another place to live.
3. (my personal favorite): All of the above.

As it turns out, I do have a tenant lined up. He has already paid his May rent and the required deposits. He is going to clean the home himself. He has decent credit and seems high-functioning. He has called me twice in the past month just to make sure I still like him. And, I do. I like this new tenant. 

I gave Harold my best "yes, we do have a tenant, and just like we agreed, you will need to be out by this weekend." pep talk. What I didn't say was life is too short to deal with any more Harold/Haroldine drama.

And Speaking of Critters

Mr. 114 has often told me the antics of Ms. Shirley. I have never been sure why he tells me the goings on with his next door neighbor. Perhaps he is just making conversation. Or perhaps he is just weirded out.

Most of Ms. Shirley's idiosyncrasies are benign and didn't really phase me. Until about two weeks ago.

You see, Mr. 114 has regaled me in the past with stories of Ms. Shirley honking her horn repeatedly in her driveway because there was a frog crossing the drive and she wasn't getting out of her car until it was gone. The reason she was honking the horn? So Mr. 114 would rush over and save her from the beast.

Then there is the time she ran over because there was a snail on her front porch. Apparently Mr. 114 wasn't available on this occasion to save her from the dastardly critter, so she sacrificed her 12 year old son instead. She handed him a container of table salt and the directive to remove the creature from her yard.

So, you will have to forgive me if I turn a skeptical eyebrow at the e-mail I got about two weeks ago. It said: "There are some holes in two strips of the wood siding on the back of the house that wasps are getting into." In her e-mail, she suggested this has been an ongoing issue.

How many of you in my viewing audience of three actually believe there wasps there? Or there have been wasps there for any length of time. Yea, I'm not buying it either. Now in all fairness, there were other repairs on this list, but the whole wasp thing just didn't lend itself to credibility.

I have asked Mr. 114 for a reality check--though I didn't say "reality check." I phrased it as just wanting a simple quote to fix this. And just to make sure I was totally accurate, I forwarded Ms. Shirley's e-mail to him. He can sift through it and figure it out for himself.

His Name Isn't Bubba*

My new BFF is Keith the Snake Snatcher.

According to Jack, he has been the critter catcher for the Jack Family for generations. Who knew there was such an occupation? Wow! All these things I have missed out living in a a suburban jungle (Yet, I am totally ok with missing out on snakes).

And, who knew one could make a living at that sort of thing? It turns out Jack has used Keith recently. The last time it was when he had a raccoon living between the subfloor of his two story rental. In fact, when I was in Birmingham in February, Jack showed me a picture of Keith's handiwork--a caged raccoon on the countertop of the rental home.

Sadly, Keith wasn't immediately available to handle my little issue (and by the way, the snakes are under the home, not in the home). You see his mother's cousin's brother-in-law's preacher's hairdresser died. On Thursday he had to go to a funeral and subsequent social gatherings. Therefore, the problem was tackled on Friday.

*and I would be willing to bet the Blazing Sun I know who posted that comment.

In the Event You Are Ever in the Market

I personally think $200 for snake removal is an absolute bargain--and that includes repeated trips to make sure they are gone.

Myth Boomer

In the event you were curious, it turns out water moccasins don't always live near water.