A Small Price To Pay

Other than undercapitalized issues, two vacancies and a third tenant who is thisclose to eviction (according to my sources), the only other Alabama drama going on right now is Mrs. Sherwood's flooring. You see, she has this carpeting in her kitchen that was installed in the early 1960s. It looks like--and I am not making this up--brown chain links on a dingy mustard background. Except the brown is more of a garish dried blood brown. At any rate, it is ugly. And old. And because it has 50+ years of spills, splatters and who knows what else landing on it, it is pretty gross.

When I went to visit earlier this year, Mrs. Sherwood and I chatted about her kitchen floor and she asked if she could have something newer and more attractive installed. Given Mrs. Sherwood has lived in this house since 2007, rarely pays late and handles all the minor fixes herself, this is a small request. After all, I have been expecting her to give notice any day for the past three years.

Also, I happen to know if she shopped around she would find out she is paying 2007 rental prices in a 2013 rental market (rents in general have dropped about 20 percent). So, if Mrs. Sherwood wants new flooring, I think I can find a way to accommodate that. Or at least I felt that way back in March when she asked. And besides, when she eventually moves out, I will have to have it replaced it anyway.

Fast forwarding eight months, when Mrs. Sherwood brought to my attention last month that I had agreed to new flooring, I was dealing with a bad-ass sinus infection threatening to turn into pneumonia and had a myriad of personal issues swarming around me. In addition, if you back up to last summer, on the Alabama front as you may (or may not recall), I had been dealing with attorneys, vacancies and Alabama Power. So, Mrs. Sherwood's kitchen floor was pretty far from the front of my to-do list.

Frankly, I had completely forgotten about the flooring until she brought it up again last month.

Though I remembered discussing this last March, what I wasn't certain about is what kind of deal we made. And finally, I had to admit this to Mrs. Sherwood. I hated to loose the upper hand, because for all I know I could have agreed to hardwoods throughout the house last spring. Turns out it was just the kitchen. And Mrs. Sherwood said that I had agreed to buy the materials and she would handle the rest. To her credit, she shopped around a bit, decided on a dark laminate and found a great deal for me. She tells me Howie the Handyman will be installing the flooring this week--just in time for Thanksgiving.

Hopefully the $600 I spent on flooring will keep Mrs. Sherwood happy for another several years.

Chalkville is Lovely This Time of Year

So I got a text from Daisy yesterday. Did I have any vacant upcoming homes in the new year? She was looking for herself. I would like to point out Daisy works for a property management company which manages about 250 homes. With an average industry turnover of five percent that company is looking at 12 to 13 homes per month coming vacant. So, she doesn't necessarily need one of mine to rent.

However, as it happens, I currently have two properties that might interest her. Daisy is intimately familiar with these homes, as I contact her about once a week to say, "It's rented now, right?" At which point Daisy takes a play from Kirby's book and ignores me--but thus answers my question anyway. I presume I would hear a choir of angels rejoicing moments before I got a call from Daisy saying, "I've got a tenant."

I threw both vacant houses at her at got a varied response of, "that one is a bit too far," (which I suspect means the same thing as, "that house is a half mile from Kirby's place") for the one in Chalkville to the very diplomatic-not-a-violation-of-any-federal-fair-housing-law-whatsoever response of, "I am not sure I am a good fit for the neighborhood," for my home in Centerpoint. Truthfully, unless she is a drug lord, murderer or has gang ties, I suspect she isn't a good fit either.

I was baffled by Daisy's request to rent one of my properties and wondered exactly what kinds of homes she sees every day in her job that makes mine so attractive. Not that mine are all that bad. They mostly aren't. No matter, if I can get rid of some of my dead wood tenants, that was fine with me. I have a Section 8 tenant whom I am not excited about. Her lease is up December 31st. I told Daisy to tour the house, if she liked it, give a 30 day notice to the tenant. I would love to replace the Section 8 tenant with someone different (one of these days I really should write about this tenant).

The tenants in house in Fultondale pay late every month. They give Kirby and Daisy fits. The tenants are in continual violation of their lease. I told Daisy if she wanted that house, go ahead and do the same there too.

In both cases I am serious. But I will let Kirby decide if this can happen. Otherwise, I have a lovely home in Chalkville that might be of interest if she needs to move sooner than later.

Changes

It was too easy. That's what I told myself today as I left my now-former broker's office. After 10+ years with the same company (the ones with the gold sport coats), I decided to go hang my license with a smaller brokerage.

The decision wasn't spontaneous. I had been thinking about it for some time. And, when I decided this is what I wanted to do, the particular company I am now working for was not high on my list. The broker--who now happens to be my new boss--got into the business at the same time I did. A former used car salesman, he was my mentor the first year I was in the biz. Over the course of time he got his broker's license. He bought a property management company and that is now what he is doing. Just like Kirby and Mario.

When I told my now-former broker I was leaving. She didn't react the way I expected her to, though I am not sure what I expected really. Crying and hysterics? A fist-pump along with a good riddance? I didn't expect she would take it so... so.. well.

At the very least, I expected her to tell me that being affiliated with a national company was worth something. Here's a hint for those of you who aren't in the know: the national company doesn't do a thing for agents. Agents still have to find their own leads. They still have to pay for their own advertising. All agents--no matter what size company they are affiliated with--have access to the same web sites, multiple listing information and the like. The difference is if one is affiliated with a national name, they pay more in fees.

And, in case it matters, if you need the services of a quality agent, the best place to look is one of those mom and pop companies. Why? Because no broker of a small company is going to hire a part-time or green agent. The liability is too great. The small boutique brokerages pay more for better agents because those agents don't have to be trained and there is a smaller chance of a lawsuit. When I negotiated my new pay structure I threw that at my new broker and he agreed--which will help my bottom line. But it is true. The new agents go to the mega-companies because the smaller brokerages won't take the risk.

But I digress...

When I told my now-former broker where I was going (something I was dreading her asking--given this was her top agent who left years ago and I am told by my sources there was some bad blood at the time) she said she had never heard of my new company. I figured it would take her about three nano-seconds after I walked out the door for it to dawn on her. Then she would either hate me or ask me to come back with a better offer.

For the record, she came back with a better offer. But money isn't the only reason I am moving on. And also for the record, it really is unproductive to entice someone to come back by throwing more money at them. If they want to leave, they will do it anyway--either now or later. And by keeping them just a teensy bit longer, all you have done is buy their loyalty for the short-term. This is true in business and in rental homes. Let them go.

The irony of it all is that I am working for a company that pretty much mirrors Kirby's brokerage. Both companies have about the same number of homes. This new company has a Kirby, a Daisy and an Opal. And now they have a me. I am excited. I am still a sales agent. And I won't be doing leasing exclusively (because my opinion of leasing homes hasn't changed). However, in the short-term, this is part of the deal. Which is fine given my under-capitalized issues being what they are and all. In the six hours I have been with my new company, I have already leased a home. I can't complain.The decision was right. It was time.

Modern Technology

Last week during my marathon real estate days, I talked to Daisy and explained that I wasn't going to be near a computer for a good long while and please text me if she needed anything.

Ten minutes later she did. I replied with, "It was actually a trap. Now I have your cell number."

Daisy, who instantly realized it was not a good scenario for a landlord to have her private cell number (I didn't actually expect she would text me), probably swore up and down and then wrote me back with a few other choice words.

At any rate, now Daisy texts me things like, "The house in Moody is rented." And I am happy.

I can also ask her about the house in Centerpoint and the house in Chalkville.  I did notice when I asked about these two properties today she somehow didn't feel the need to get back to me right away. That's ok. Because I have Kirby's cell number too.

One Down, Two to Go

Today was the second day in a row I have left my home at 7 a.m. in search of remedying our undercapitalized issues. However today I did not make it home until 7:30 p.m. At one point, I jotted over to my office to check my e-mail. In it was a lovely note from Daisy. She had rented my home if I was willing to take "those folks."

Though I greatly appreciated her e-mail, I had no idea which home or who "those folks" happen to be. When I called her I got a better scope of the situation. It turns out Daisy is sick and shouldn't be at work, let alone writing e-mails to desperate landlords. However, I am glad she did. I like reading the words, "rented."

The house in question happens to be the one in Moody. She told me it was a nice couple with ties to the area. I froze in terror. Two of the last three sets of tenants were also "nice" with ties to the area. I quickly made sure we weren't looking at Mr. Smith moving back in (as a refresher, you may recall the unemployed Mr. Smith lives across the street with his wife, his 49 offspring and his ultra-proud father-in-law--who is supporting his daughter, her children and her dead-beat husband).

I also sweetly inquired if half of the "nice couple" Daisy mentioned happened to include Ms. Kathy, the other deadbeat former tenant whose sister happens to live next door. Before she answered me, she let out a string of Dayquil-induced profanities, indicating this house had a lot of hidden baggage and either she did not need to know this, or perhaps it was best I told her prior to her showing it to the "nice couple."

And then, still not answering my question, she put the phone down and I heard her say, "Hey Kirby, did you know about the house in Moody and the former tenants who live next door and across the street?" I am guessing based on her next litany of cuss words, she found out Kirby did know. At any rate, it doesn't appear the "nice couple" includes Ms. Kathy either. That's a relief.

The couple in question have been approved by me and are moving in this weekend. The home was vacant for less than a month.

For those of you counting, that is one down, and two to go. 

On a Brighter Note

It turns out the folks in Fultondale decided they don't want to be evicted and have straightened out at least for now. I can handle "for now."

I don't know all the details to why Kirby and Daisy felt they needed to be evicted. But that is fine. I don't need that added stress.

The Tale Of The Two Text Messengers

Yesterday I sent Ms. Angie a text that basically said, "Let me know rent is coming on time and for the love of all that is good and just you aren't in jail again." Ok, I only sent the first clause, but the second part of that sentence was implied.

And then I heard nothing.

This morning I sent a text saying, "I didn't hear from you yesterday and that is not a good sign. I am not in the mood for surprises. Please tell me rent will be on time." And yes, I sent that one in its entirety.

To her credit, Ms. Angie did reply. Apparently she is not in jail. She let me know rent was coming. On time.

Mrs. Sherwood also sent me a text today telling me she wants to collect on the offer I made with her months earlier when our accidental business looked a bit brighter. She wants new flooring in the kitchen. I had agreed to pay half of the new flooring costs.

I certainly can't blame her for wanting this change. Her current kitchen flooring is from another era. And it is rather ugly yellow and brown patterned carpet that has no business in the kitchen. Even casino carpeting is more attractive.

Mrs. Sherwood has also been in my home since 2007 and doesn't seem to be interested in leaving any time soon. That's a good thing, because I will take a $300 rent reduction if I have to lease this place out again. Besides, she takes great care of the house. I am happy to hold up my end of the bargain once I get rid of these crazy vacancies.

Request

Daisy, Kirby's assistant, sent me an e-mail today telling me that she has showings lined up for all three vacancies. It doesn't mean they are rented, but just that people are interested. She ended her e-mail to me with the following: "Pray!"

I have to tell you, I pray every day. Lately I have added prayers that these homes will be rented with quality folks. If you are the praying type, I am asking for help. Please pray with me.

Thanks.

Cutting Kirby Some Slack

As you may recall, I would rather give birth to 20 pound triplets without any form of pain relief than work rentals. But, to give you an idea of how desperate undercapitalized we are at the moment, I called my buddies at not one, but two, property management companies begging to work rentals for them this weekend. In both cases, I was happily given a litany of homes from both agencies and I promptly put them on craigslist.

It is now Saturday around 3:30 and yet the phone hasn't rung even once. No e-mails from a crazy person asking if they and their 47 live wildebeests can rent a home in some posh Scottsdale neighborhood. And will the landlord take a $1,500 a month rent reduction? And--in case it comes up--Mr. Wildebeest just happens to be a convicted serial ax murderer with a 506 FICO score. Will that be an issue?

I am guessing if the rental market is this quiet in the US's fifth largest metropolitan area, Birmingham can't be any better. But I am hoping it is. 

Moody

It appears we won't be refinancing the home in Moody. Though we would have a lower interest rate, the difference in payment is negligible.

If it matters, I am cranky.

Nobody Has To Read This

It is an understatement to say October, 2013 has been one of my toughest. I don't wish to whine about my personal life. But come on, 2013 as a whole has kind of sucked. It isn't just the Alabama accidental business either. But I have to tell you, that alone is playing a larger than necessary role in my already totally crappy October.

There was a time a few years back when we were faced with tough times in our accidental business and I would actively look for solutions. Then we used up those solutions. Then other tough times happened and we managed to endure. Then things went well for a very long stretch. In fact I even thought--dare I say it--the worst was over.

Then we had a vacant home that will never be rented. Then Ms. Angie went to jail twice. Then we had a tenant skip out. Then Mrs. Green needed to move. And then this past week Daisy, Kirby's assistant, sent me an email yesterday saying the people in Fultondale need to be evicted. NOW.

The house in Fultondale happens to be one of the three Marty Sunshine and I own without a partner. So for those of you keeping track: we have the one in Grayson Valley that Jack bailed on us, the vacant one that Mrs. Green lived in (and is currently vacant) and the one in Fultondale.

In the past three weeks (on top of the utterly other rotten things going on) Marty and I have done some serious financial maneuvering to figure out if we can hold on. We changed our personal budget to accommodate our issues over there, including dropping a lot of extras in our lives and changing Marty's retirement holdings. We are looking at refinancing a couple of homes--which never goes well, given banks don't to like to refinance for landlords who have more than four properties. So, I am not certain we will be refinancing.

I don't have the money to pay the property taxes. Nor do I have the money to pay November's mortgages if Ms. Angie goes to jail again. If Kirby doesn't get these places rented, I will definitely not have December's mortgage money either. That's a big concern. It used to be this made me anxious. Now I am just embittered.

Yesterday Kirby gave me numbers for potential outcomes if I sell the home in Moody. It is doable--if indeed anyone will quickly buy the home. It doesn't do me well to let the property sit vacant for four months waiting for a buyer. So, we are looking into that. It is also one of the homes Marty is speaking with the bank about refinancing.

Marty Sunshine tells me this blog post is "incredibly negative." What if it is? This is where I'm at right now. It ain't pretty, but it is the best I can do.

Public Service Announcement

For the love of all things, if you want to rent a home be sure you clean up your social media accounts. Landlords don't like finding XXX Twitter sites for potential tenants. Just saying...

The Way To An Attorney's Heart

When one can't pay the mortgages, one certainly can't pay the attorney who handled a small administrative matter. So, I have been sorta sitting by, letting Attorney Flip's extra-large bill gather dust. Once in a while I will look at it, groan and then shove it out of sight only to repeat the process a week or so later.

Fortunately (for Flip), Mr. Partner brought in an infuse of cash that he owed recently. The mortgages are covered and we have enough left over to give Attorney Flip a nugget or two. In preparation for this monumental event, and because I got another "past due" bill from him today, I sent him an e-mail telling him I was making a payment. I thanked him for his patience.

In a strange turn, Attorney Flip--the same man who would not return my e-mails and phone calls for the past year--actually responded in about 10 minutes flat with a "no problem, hope all is well," e-mail.

If you are counting, that is two times in the past year I have heard from him. Perhaps a new record.

You've Now Read It All

So Ms. Angie went to jail again. For those of you keeping track, that was twice in 30 days. I would raise a skeptical eyebrow and say, "uh huh" but it really wouldn't change the realities here.

What I do know is that Ms. Angie's September rent hasn't shown up. I did receive most of August's rent (late) and I have no reason not to believe her. Let's face it, Ms. Angie (nor anyone else) has ever used the excuse, "I was in jail and I needed the rent money to bail me out." Twice. Ever. And I promise you, I have heard some very interesting excuses.

I find her story somewhat plausible because both times this happened in Leeds. And, as a matter of interest, I almost got arrested in Leeds once for taking a picture on the public sidewalk. I was told later by someone (Jack I think, but it might have been Carolsue) that if I hadn't been white I probably would have been arrested. Now, I am not saying Leeds is a bigoted backwater 1940s, Southern town, but let the inferences land where they may.

And as another matter of interest, it would be best not to have an African American rent the home I have in Leeds (if it were available). That is, if an African American actually wanted to rent my home in Leeds. So far no one has jumped at that opportunity. But I digress...

Anyway, Ms. Angie was arrested again on (what she tells me) an outstanding traffic warrant. I told her to please stay out of Leeds. Leeds doesn't like her. And, because I currently have two vacancies in this particular LLC and if I were to let her go I would take an immediate reduction in rent--barring I got the place rented prior to January--I am working with her again this month. Besides, other than the last two months, she has been a really good tenant.

When I spoke with her today I made her cry. I think if I had gotten angry and nasty, she would have felt better. But I was already weary with this week's drama on actually paying the mortgages. So, I wasn't up to yelling at her.

I believe in my heart this will be straightened up. She will pay off her debt to me (I expect to see some money in a week or so). In the mean time, it would be best if Ms. Angie just stayed out of jail.

I Should Open a Thrift Store

I don't really understand this. And before I became a landlord I wouldn't have believed it. But my first tenant in Phoenix did this. I thought it was just her. Now I realize it happens often. Tenants just leave their stuff behind. It used to blow me away. Now I just accept it.

But really, if you could cart it into your home, why can't you cart it out of your home? And for that matter, if you didn't want it when you moved out, why did you want it when you moved in? 

The Rest of the Story

In addition to the two vacancies with the LLC with Mr. Partner, I asked Mr. and Mrs. Green to move this past summer. They finally left last month. So, though Mr. Partner has two vacancies, Marty Sunshine and I have three.

A quick background on the Greens. I loved them. I adored them. They would actually Fed Ex me the rent if it was a day late. They were my tenants for five years. Then Mrs. Green lost her job with no notice this past New Year's Day. I let her limp along for a month or two, with the idea that I would look them in the eye during my trip last spring and ask them to leave.

Except within that LLC I had another vacancy that needed a lot of time and attention. This particular LLC does ok with one vacant home, but two empty houses is a bit out of my budget. And the house in question was "managed" by my former-partner Jack. Jack neglected to mention the house needed flooring, roof repair, a hot water heater and significant outdoor drainage reconstruction when he begged out, leaving these issues for Marty and I to fend for ourselves. So essentially when I got to Birmingham, Mr. and Mrs. Green won the landlord lottery.

I believe in my heart the Greens were trying as hard as they could to make things right in their life. I also believe she didn't want to move. She would tell me about job interviews. I knew she was borrowing money from her son who is stationed somewhere where he is eligible for combat pay--and this was even with the reduction in rent. Somewhere around July, I did ask them to leave. I told her if she stayed current and kept the place clean, I would refund her security deposit.

Mrs. Green didn't leave until the second week of September and by then she was in for two month's of rent. So, the security deposit is mine. She also left the place clean except she left half of her worldly possessions behind, leaving Kirby to figure out where to donate them.

 Right now I am juggling these three vacancies, and wondering what needs to happen. I know I have done this before, but all I remember is the stress, not the solutions. At this moment, I have no answers.

Welcome Back to 2008

I'm Not Falling Apart, is the name of a fun little ditty by Maroon 5. And it pretty much sums up my day.

I would like to tell you that all is hunky dory in my accidental business, but we ended up with some hiccups last month when it came to mortgage payments. And, for the first time in 10 years we bounced some payments. Like a lot of payments.

A lot.

Some of this had to do with Ms. Angie going to jail. But most of it had to do with Kirby billing me for a ton of repairs he had done on our properties and not telling me upfront he was going to do that. And, when I found out this happened--two days after the first NSF--he sheepishly informed me that most of the repairs were completed, except for a teensy one that would show up in September's statement that needed to happen in our Section 8 house so that we could get the rent. And by the way, that was only $1500.

So, already being under-capitalized and having a vacant home in the LLC we have with Mr. Partner, we ran into some struggles in September. And then I had enough NSFs to balance the National Debt to round out that stretch of 30 days. But that was last month. 

Except now we are in October. And the work on the Section 8 home needed to be paid. And apparently my tenants in Moody, after making a huge stink about me replacing the bathroom floor--which I did--snuck out in the middle of the night and haven't left a forwarding address. I found this little gem out about four hours ago.

When I did the calculations, it looks like we are going to be short again this month. Mr. Partner has been informed of this. I don't know if he cares right now. He might care October 16 when mortgages are officially late.

I lived through this type of drama once before and it took its toll on my health, well-being and sanity. I am not in the mood for it again. And Marty Sunshine is certainly not in the mood for me to fall apart.

Farewell to a Dear Friend

I had breakfast with Diamond Jim today. Actually Polly, Buckaroo and I met Diamond Jim for breakfast.

I didn't know it last night, but Buckaroo went to bed fully dressed, including his sneakers and got up at 5:30 a.m. announcing he was joining me. Ten minutes later, Polly flounced downstairs (Polly always flounces) and seemed shocked I was not as receptive to the idea as they expected me to be. But no matter, Diamond Jim isn't my own personal accounting buddy. He belongs to the world. So, the kids came too.

Our breakfast was as normal as they all tend to be. If one were to replay all of our breakfasts over the years, this one would be about average. We discussed baseball (Boo Dodgers!). We discussed books. Sigh... We are just going to have to agree to disagree on The Catcher in the Rye--unless somewhere there is a better version written, perhaps about baseball catchers. That book would be much better.

We discussed children, mine and his grandsons, Timmy and Ricky. For that matter we talked about his son and daughter too. But they are my age. He shared a story about flying here one February in the 1980s from sub-zero weather on a propeller plane. All the while I just kept wondering if there was something else we could talk about to keep the conversation going just a little bit longer.

This is Diamond Jim's last tax hurrah. He is boarding a plane in a couple of days and heading to some remote town in Eastern Oregon to retire with Mrs. Diamond Jim. I knew this day was coming, but even so, I was not fully is prepared. I am not sure if he was conscience it was our last breakfast. If he was, he didn't let on.

I know Diamond Jim would probably still do my taxes if I asked. But, he has been a CPA for more than 40 years. He has earned his retirement. In that respect, seems like a bigger kindness to just let him go. 

I noticed when he hugged me and kids at the end of our visit he didn't say good bye. Neither did I. I hope someday I will get a chance to see him again. Maybe before that I will even pick up The Catcher in the Rye and see if it gets any better so I can tell him how much I love the book.

Sit, Roll Over, Stop Calling

I have dear friends who now live in another state and rent out their home here. I have written about them before. Recently, their tenants bailed, leaving them in sudden need of new renters. They have contracted me in my professional capacity to help them find a qualified tenant for their home.

And I am banging my head.

As we all know, there is nothing more desperate in this world than a landlord with a vacant home. The second-most desperate person on Earth is the one who is contracted to find a viable tenant for the landlord. This isn't just a client, it is a friend in need. I don't mind helping them out. I just mind disappointing them or finding the wrong tenants. And in all fairness, they read this blog.

For the past week, I have gotten calls that remind me clearly of why I have Kirby and Mario. The people calling--who really should be making an effort to provide a good first impression--lack basic telephone etiquette. For example, when is it acceptable to leave a message for someone inquiring about anything and not leave one's name? 

When I got these kinds of calls for my own properties, I wouldn't call back out of general principal. If a person is that obnoxious when they want something from me--a chance to view their potential future home--what kind of fresh hell will I be living with if I agree to rent to them? (And in case you want to know, feel free to dig through the annals of this blog.) In this case, I don't have the luxury of ignoring these people. It isn't my decision to make. So, I am calling them back and offering them a second chance to prove they were raised right. However, I am not getting very far. I am getting questions asking such things including how many bedrooms does this home have (it is in the ad they called about), what is the rent (ditto) and is there a pool (yes. THERE IS A PICTURE OF IT IN THE AD)?

My clients have a lovely home. They aren't accepting pets. Frankly, I don't blame them. When I speak to potential tenants I am very careful to explain the owners are not accepting pets. It is also clearly stated in my ad and on MLS. One man actually said to me--and I am not making this up--"But it is a small golden retriever." It really doesn't matter if it is or not, it is still a dog.

Another man said to me that each roommate had a dog and they (the pets) all "got along." For grins, I inquired how many roommates we were talking about here and he said there were six men and nine dogs. 

The home is in a great area and I suspect it will attract a quality family. Hopefully fairly soon. In the mean-time I am saying a prayer all these people with pets stop calling.

She's Alive

Ms. Angie is a dear, dear tenant. And yes, she did get back in touch with me at 5 a.m. Saturday morning. She sent me a text with a wild story that involves the town of Leeds and a guy named, "Your Honor". She also told me on the way home from her unpleasant experience she had a blowout on the interstate.

To Ms. Angie's credit, she has not regaled me with these kinds of antics in the four years she has been my tenant. Which is why I believe her.

However, the subtext is that rent isn't happening. She didn't exactly say this, but that was seriously implied. I haven't written her back just yet. I may wait the weekend and see if she comes up with a solution all on her own. That would be best.

Here's my thoughts: she is a great tenant. She takes care of the house. Even before Kirby's property management cut, I will never (ever) get what I am getting for rent from anyone else if I kick her out. It doesn't make sense to start the move-out process over this. Hopefully Ms. Angie will find a solution so she and I don't have to go meet another guy named Your Honor.

Strangely Silent

Today is the end of the month. I realized this on Thursday, around 11 p.m., after I had just sacrificed an exorbitant amount of cell minutes talking down my seller from the precipice she was on. While on the call, the my client mentioned August was almost over. That reminded me of two of my sisters in laws whose birthdays are both late August. One turned 40 yesterday. The other would have been 39 today if she were still with us. 

Month end also means my mortgages are due. And, wouldn't you know it, all three tenants I personally manage: (Mrs. Sherwood Forest, Ms. Angie and Mrs. Green) had not sent in the rent. At 11 p.m. Thursday night, I found this freakishly alarming and odd and--forgetting my pet peeve about time zones--texted them all immediately inquiring politely about where the hell rent money happened to be.

Actually, I had texted Mrs. Green earlier in the week, asking if she was moving out, and did not receive a response. I sent her the exact same text a second time on Thursday night, which she still hasn't acknowledged. That whole thing is grounds for another blog and I might be motivated to write about this weekend.

Mrs. Sherwood Forest was gracious enough to text me around 10 a.m. her time on Friday. She followed up two minutes later with a phone call and an explanation. Twenty minutes after that she was at the bank. I was never worried about Mrs. Sherwood Forest. In fact, I have never worried about any of these three.

Until now.

Ms. Angie, who has been my wonderful tenant for years and years, has not responded to my first inquiry. Nor did she respond to a second text. This is totally bizarre.

Ms. Angie started calling me years before she ever moved in. She wanted to rent from me in the worst way. Though flattering, I never completely understood this. I don't know where she got my phone number, primarily because I have a hard time understanding her drawl. Over the course of years, she looked at a few of my homes before she decided on the one she is in now.

She has been a loyal tenant for a long time. She is the first tenant to call me when she is going to be a day late (I finally told her she didn't need to do that--now I wish I hadn't). Last month she was slightly short on rent. In the entire time she has rented from me, she has never once been short. Ever. So, I let it slide. I am hoping it isn't a sign of things to come.

I am so flabbergasted by Ms. Angie's silence, that I asked Carolsue if she could swing by this weekend and just make sure Ms Angie is alive. If Carolsue is too busy to go (which may be, I recall something about a trip out of state to a family reunion--or she may just have a life of her own), I may have to go with a process server giving her an eviction notice to get her to respond to me. And that just makes me sad.

I genuinely like Ms. Angie and don't think she is stiffing me on the rent (though I won't rule that out because I have lived it before). I am just hoping she was away for a couple of days of well-earned vacation and she will call me today to tell me something I will probably not understand. Hopefully the gist will be she has the rent.

National Bliz Day

When God was passing out friends, He gave me an extra-special one. Happy Birthday dear Bliz. I would say how long we have been friends, but I don't want to frighten you.

I hope you have a wonderful day. And here's some orange candy for you--your favorite I am sure. 

The Administrative Matter (Part 3)

Mrs. C. had left my house without notice in 2010. At the time I was furious she didn't tell me. A friend advised me to always leave everything on good terms with everyone I meet because you never know when you will need a favor. I had remembered that advice at the time and now I am glad I did.

Mrs. C. signed a new quit claim deed last August. She e-mailed me when she heard from Flip's people and asked what was going on. We had a lovely chat. Mr. C. had passed on. She was doing fine. Her grandkids were being homeschooled. And she would take care of this silly little administrative matter immediately. Which she did.

The Cox's weren't as easy to find. They had moved. Then Flip stopped answering phone calls and e-mails. Looking back, I have to wonder if he had just thought we were done with this particular issue and didn't give it more thought--even though he still got bi monthly e-mails from me asking for an update. I do know my issue with Attorney Jon was very minor compared to others I have heard about.

Last April, Flip sent me a letter suggesting I talk with another attorney about any fees I may have incurred. He told me to call him (Flip) to discuss my options. I called. I e-mailed. I whined. I didn't hear back.

The fees aside, I really cared about getting this house back in my name. Panic started setting in around May. What if this was a bigger deal than I thought and Flip was just protecting the Late Mrs. Attorney Jon (they are long-time friends)? What if, because of Jack (my now former business partner), I have been blacklisted somehow? Was I being ignored because I no longer have "connections" in the South? That's how things work down there. What if Flip knew something more about this and didn't want to commit to a lawsuit? What if Flip didn't want his name associated with this mess? Was their a lien on the property I didn't know about? Did Mr. Cox take his truck in a drunken rage and run it into a shopping mall and now their is a lawsuit?

In an effort to get this resolved, I started shopping around for a new lawyer. I wanted someone who was not friendly with Flip--which turned out is pretty much nobody. I wanted someone who did not know about the Late Attorney Jon. When I would talk with lawyers, I would hear variations of, "Bless your heart," which meant, "You are so screwed. There is no way in hell's half acre I am touching this mess."

I spoke with both Mario and Kirby about lawyer referrals. This house happens to be managed by Mario but Kirby had managed it at one time. Because Kirby and I are friendly, I told him this whole sorted tale. "I managed a home you didn't own!?" he yelped. "Do you know how illegal that is?" I pointed out that he doesn't manage it now, Mario does. And please don't tell Mario. Kirby said something along the lines of, "I'm backing away and we never discussed this," which was fine with me. 

One lawyer asked me how could he know I didn't forge these documents and did I have some sort of vendetta against the Cox's? I told him I have evidence that late Attorney Jon had recorded other deeds for me before and I could bring in former tenant-owners (though where I would find them I did not know) to testify. I had e-mails between Jon and I. And, though--I don't remember doing this, but thank God I did--I had scanned a copy of the original signed quit claim deed from the Cox's before I mailed it to Jon back in 2009.

Another lawyer gave a low whistle when I said the Late Attorney Jon was my lawyer at one time. "Don't you know about him?" he asked. I replied that he was a very nice man who loved his wife and daughters. Even I know that is a stalemate in the South.

In the month of July, I spoke with about 18 lawyers. Many left me in tears. Some passed me on to other attorneys. I left messages for more lawyers than that. Most said what I wanted would cost a lot of money and I might loose, so thanks anyway. When I countered this was a small administrative matter and all we had to do was find the Cox's--I have their social security numbers--and have them sign a quit claim deed again, I was given more scenarios about how badly this could go.

I didn't sleep much last month.

I did talk to a few attorneys who knew Flip. Each one asked me why Flip did not finish this. I always replied that I thought this was a small matter and Flip was too busy. One told me I should make him. I was too humiliated to tell him Flip wouldn't take my calls.

Finally, though sheer clairvoyance or perhaps enough of the lawyers I talked to called Flip, I got a response to an e-mail I sent him in early June. He said they found the Cox's in a Northern state and he would be in touch. That was it.

A week later another e-mail came from Flip. A letter, quit claim and a check for $50 was being sent to the Cox's for their trouble. They knew nothing of this ahead of time and would be finding a Fed Ex on their doorstep sometime the next day.  A copy of the letter was sent to me. It was wordy, filled with "henceforths," and "wherewithals" and other legal speak. He also referenced the abandonment and default clauses Jon and I wordsmithed the night of our phone call all those years earlier.

I have to tell you, if I didn't know the ins and outs of this situation, I would have had to read the letter about six times to get the gist. I am sure the "avoiding a lawsuit" verbiage, the $50 check and the "sign right here" post it note was all they were looking at.

Yesterday Flip e-mailed me. He started the letter with "Booyah" and attached a copy of the new signed quit claim deed. It is being filed with Shelby County this week.

I saw Mr. Partner Wednesday and told him the news. Then Marty Sunshine jumped in and explained what an ordeal this was. I think he wanted Mr. Partner to appreciate my nightmare.

Because of the Dodd-Frank Law, as well as my own personal experiences, I will not be doing owner financing again any time soon. However, a friend of mine is now in a funny situation where she is considering owner financing for a tenant of hers. I have shared this story with her, and hopefully she will think long and hard before doing so. I have also offered her a copy of the contract the Late Attorney Jon helped me write. Just in case.

The Administrative Matter (Part 2)

When someone goes through the process of ending their life--someone who boasts of being married to the "light of his life" and leaves behind five daughters who are everything to him--one can assume the person in question has a few things going on. No matter how wonderful one thinks the person happens to be.

I will always think the world of the Late Attorney Jon. Always. Suicides are never easy to process, especially when it isn't up to me to absorb everything and figure out the whys. I was merely a client of his who happened to live 1,700 miles away. And for that matter, he rarely charged me for anything he did for me. I remember one time, when our business was in much better shape, I absolutely insisted he bill me. He sent me a bill for $25 for about 20 hours of work. I paid him $50.

What I came to find out was the Late Attorney Jon was disorganized. I also found out he had a few demons--but that is not something I wish to dwell on. I heard this and that from various sources and was able to fill in the pieces. There is nothing like telling someone, "Well, I've heard rumors" and the other person (in this case it was from Attorney Flip and Jack) voluntarily filled in the blanks. Neither asked what I knew--which wasn't nearly as much as they independently shared with me. The bigger picture of Attorney Jon doesn't make the man I knew any less likeable. It just made him human.

He will always be that guy at 10 p.m. one Friday night who had two giggling daughters in his car, crawling all over him, reading through my contract, giving me pointers, while waiting for his eldest child to finish basketball practice. We talked business on the phone that night for an hour and a half. That phone call years ago saved my hide this past month.

That said, the Late Attorney Jon left me a mess. He did not take care of those two deeds. We were vulnerable. If Mrs. C. was involved and responsible for some sort of major car accident, the victims in question would be able to go after all of Mrs. C's assets--including a home where I was paying the mortgage and the taxes. It would not matter one bit if I had a loan on the house. The house belonged to Mrs. C. If Mr. and Mrs. Cox didn't pay their income taxes, their would be a lien on the property I own.

And, to add to this, I was told by more than one attorney though the contracts we had with these people clearly stated the house would be ours if they defaulted, if the Cox's or Mrs. C wanted to reclaim the properties and pay us the back payments, they could then go after us for the rent we received. And, getting this resolved would probably involve lawsuits, judges and a lot of expense. One lawyer actually said to me, yes, it is nice and everything on paper but the Late Attorney Jon was your lawyer and judges aren't going to be excited about any contract he was involved in.

Yay us.

After Jon died, I asked Legal Eagle if she would take care of this. She said no she wasn't touching it. It was too messy for the amount of time and attention it deserved. I countered with it was a small administrative issue and she repeated the potential consequences at stake. I knew this of course, but I was going with the optimist best-case scenario.

After a year, I found out that the Alabama BAR had assigned Flip to Late Attorney Jon's affairs. When I met with him last summer, I found out how disorganized Jon was. In the conference room, stacked top to bottom, were box after box of the Jon's files. And, those were only the recent ones. There were plenty more boxes in storage. When I spoke with Flip, I assured him I had seen the quit claim deed for the Cox's six months before Jon died. Flip went through ever single file Jon had in the course of time and found many things related to me. But that deed has never been found.

To be continued

The Administrative Matter (Part 1)

I slept better last night than I had in years. This morning I woke up refreshed. And grateful! I can't forget grateful.

Years ago, our business model was to purchase a home, allow the tenant to purchase it from us with owner financing. The tenant would essentially own the home and we were the mortgage company. This model worked fabulously in Arizona. It was 100 percent successful.

When we started buying rental homes in Birmingham, we didn't want to be landlords. So, we offered the same terms: rent for a year then buy, then refinance us out in three to five years. This did not work fabulously. In fact, it was very unfabulous. Only one Birmingham tenant fulfilled this contract. Because the model failed, we became landlords and the rest you can read about in the archives of this blog. Hence, we have an accidental business.

Part of the reason for this failure has to do with what happened in 2008. As you may remember, the housing market tanked. And then the economy. Or vice-versa. It doesn't really matter. They both went out in a fiery death, leaving me with a gazillion homes that were now underwater.

In 2008, one family, the Cox's, filed Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Chapter 11 means they were reorganizing their debt. As a mortgagor, they missed a payment and repaid me in increments based on the terms of the bankruptcy. Essentially, they wanted to keep the house.

In 2009 Mr. Cox lost his job of 18 years when his company closed down. He called me to tell me this was the case, but assured me all was good. Two weeks later they filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy and included the house. This wasn't a reorganization, but a cut ties and start anew.

When I got word of the bankruptcy, there was a lot of mayhem and panic on my end. I could not find a lawyer to help me (it was out of Legal Eagle's scope of reference) and I wasn't sure what I could do anyway. They have a right to file. They can also walk away from the home--which I later found out they were doing.

This wasn't really an issue. Because, as part of my owner financing, I have a clause that says if the property is abandoned it goes back to me. And, to solidify this point, I made every tenant who is buying the house from me and using our company as their mortgage company sign a quit claim deed up front. If the tenant doesn't perform, the quit claim deed is recorded and the home becomes mine again.

The late Attorney Jon was my lawyer for this. In my early years he helped me fine-tune my contract. Jon told me once my quit claim deed idea was clever. And, he also added an addendum when the tenant-owner signed my contract saying they knew they were signing a quit claim deed. They also had to initial this and the clause about default in my contract. So, there was 100 percent transparency. Everyone knew what was going on. Everyone agreed.

Because the owner financing business model tanked so badly around this time, the late Attorney Jon filed a lot of quit claim deeds with the county recorder for me from 2008 to 2010. However, he missed two. One belonged to the Cox's. The other belonged to Mrs. C. I was aware these two were pending. The Late Attorney Jon was also aware. There were slight issues with both--easily resolved at the time with a phone call or two. I contacted the Late Attorney Jon on a regular basis to gently remind him to get this done. Without these deeds recorded both tenants still owned the home.

Though we were paying our mortgages, insurance and taxes, all while collecting rent, we had no legal claim to the property. And, if either the Cox's or Mrs. C had a creditor come after them, the creditor could slap a lien on the property. Or worse, what if one of them was involved in some sort of criminal act or a car accident. The property would be collateral for either of them if there was a lawsuit. And, there was nothing I could do.

I discussed all this with the Late Attorney Jon when I went to visit him in February 2011. Our visit was for the sole purpose of getting the nitty-gritty details done. He showed me the actual original quit claim deed he had with the Cox's and said he would get it filed. No worries. He would get with Mrs. C. and take care of that issue. An easy fix he assured me. He hugged me as I walked out after our lovely visit. That was the last time I saw him.

The Late Attorney Jon took his life July 18, 2011. 

To be continued

Flipping Estatic

The e-mail today from Attorney Flip started with "Booyah!" and I darn near lost it.

The stress from this particular issue--and there has been a bit--released as the adrenaline flushed from my body, leaving behind a peace in its wake. A peace I haven't felt in a long time.

My minor administrative issue is officially resolved. I will write about it later. I am still processing how grateful I am. And trust me, I am grateful. 

Fingers and Toes Crossed

I got a very thick envelope from Flip on Saturday. I was terrified to open it, as thick envelopes from lawyers tend to include words like "billable hours" and "pay in full."

However, in this case it wasn't. It was a copy of a letter sent to a former tenant. Apparently Flip found my tenant, sent them a Fed Ex with a letter explaining how we needed their help to resolve this ultra-minor administrative matter. All it will take is a signature from them.

From what I can tell, he didn't call them ahead of time to tell them it was coming. So, my former tenants got a long-winded letter explaining the Late Attorney Jon didn't do everything he was supposed to do. And, could my former tenants be totally awesome and do what the needed to do so a lawsuit wouldn't be filed? In consideration for their time enclosed was a check for $50.

Attorney Flip had e-mailed me last week and told me he was doing this. But now it seems real. When he did this last year (there were two issues), the former tenant e-mailed me immediately and asked about it. I was sort of hoping this tenant would do the same. So far, nothing.

Hopefully this will be resolved with no drama and hopefully the next time I get a letter from Flip it will be a very thin envelope.

Mario Party

Sadly it appears my relationship with Mario's company is tenuous at best. It isn't that I dislike these people on a personal level, though they are working really hard for me to do so. Simply, they they have spent the summer grating on my last nerve.

For example, after a repair was made without my authorization, everyone seemed to get on the same page. In fact a few days later, the tenant made another request for repair. This time for a ceiling fan. This time the work order was sent to me for authorization.

The work order was forwarded to two people before it was sent to me. In the "special notes" section of the work order it stated: "Fiona Landlord." I swear I am not paranoid by nature. However I got the distinct impression that was code for "She's a complete pain in the ass."

Because of the ongoing issue Flip is taking care of, I asked for a copy of the lease on this house. I did receive it. I also received a long dissertation from Mario's minion on the correct procedure for getting a copy of the lease for my house. That's nice. However, when time is of the essence, I am not interested in figuring out my login to some Web site, having my password reset and then spending an hour and a half combing through this and that to find the lease. When I ask Kirby's folks for this kind of thing, I actually get it without any sass.

And finally, if I wasn't through enough with these clowns, they have a new employee: Danny. Danny e-mailed me last Friday and relayed a request from the tenant. His request was polite, professional and referred to me as "Mrs. Landlord." In his request, he told me the tenant has a 6 year old, 15 pound dog that was currently living in foster care. Would I allow her pet?

I am not a fan of dogs in a rental property, but I don't have a problem with a crate trained, housebroken adult dog. In this case, the tenant has a two year lease and I am probably changing out the carpet anyway when she moves out.

I told Danny that was fine, she could have the dog (with correct deposits, etc.). I also mentioned as a rule I wasn't excited about pets in rentals. In his reply, he greeted me with "Hey Ma'am" instead of Dear Mrs. Landlord--which is the level of familiarity we were on.

There is no, "Hey Ma'am"! That is not my name. I don't "hey ma'am" anyone I am on a professionally-named basis with.

Anyway, Danny wrote back saying, "Hey Ma'am..." and suggested I "sleep on my decision." What??!! I already said yes to the dog. I again told him it was fine, I didn't want to put more thought into it and by the way, next time I am in town I will probably want to tour this house. I haven't done so in years.

Danny wrote me back Sunday morning. He was back to Mrs. Landlord. However, he told me I'd better give him 48 hour notice before I show up.

Yes. I will do that. That would be common courtesy. But beforehand it would be really awesome if he he and his colleagues stopped bossing me around.

A Simple Courtesy

The house Mario manages for me came vacant June 1. I had heard it would be vacant but there had been no follow up until I e-mailed them and asked about 15 days later. In truth, I didn't care if it was vacant. In the recesses of my brain, I was hoping it would be.

My contract with Mario stipulates if I have a vacant home for 30 days I can fire him. I was thinking of doing so. Part of me likes having two property managers. If something goes wrong with one company, or if one property manager can't rent out the house (Kirby had this one vacant for months), I can give it to the other property manager. And though I prefer Kirby on a personal level, I know Mario is working hard to keep my business, because he knows I have other homes that could be his.

And actually, I would have preferred to give him my Waterford home and my home in Alabaster, as they are geographically close and it would have made sense to split up the houses in property management that way. However Mario is expensive. The little tiff he and I got into (where he told me to go have my husband explain something to me so I would understand it--a comment I have heard he regrets and one I haven't forgotten) was about his company taking liberties I did not authorize.

Granted, the work needed to be done. It was probably for the best, but it came out of a dried up bucket of money. If I had been told upfront he was going to make those repairs, we could have made arrangements and not been scrambling for months later to get those bills paid.

Mario's folks got the house rented in record time: June 29. I was pleased. They got a good rental price and the tenant sounds like she is stable. I suspect they were pleased too up until the point where one of Mario's minion sent me an e-mail last week: saying they did a bunch of work I did not authorize.

And now nobody is happy. Marty Sunshine countered that the repair in question (the air conditioner) needed to be done and the price wasn't terrible. That didn't stop me from discussing this with everyone over there who would listen--and a few who wouldn't. And yes, I understand this is what a property management company does--they fix these types of problems so I don't have to. There is a certain amount of peace that goes with that.

My point is, if I can be sent an e-mail after the fact, why can't I be told prior to the repairs being made? It is a simple courtesy that will help me make informed decisions.

Possibly Flipping Forward

I proclaimed to Marty Sunshine at 7:30 a.m. that Attorney Flip was my second-favorite living attorney. I bizarre honor I am certain, but one he earned by e-mailing me on a Saturday morning.

Flip e-mailed me to ask me a quick question regarding how the wording of the deed for one of our homes should actually read. His e-mail was a suggestion that perhaps my small administrative matter was being handled and would be over soon.

I am hoping things are looking up. Because I need this resolved. It has been looming too long. 

I am Not Crazy

I swear Mr. Partner is toying with my sanity. Last week, he sent an e-mail to Marty Sunshine (because he won't write me). Mr. Partner just wanted our LLC's Web site. He said he lost the URL. Could he have it please?

"We don't have a Web site." I told Marty, quickly racking my brain, just to make sure I am right.

I then did that thing that makes me sound unstable or angry. I said, "Why would we have a Web site? What purpose would it serve? When would I have made a Web site and why would I have done it?" I was really just processing this in my head, because all of the sudden, I wasn't sure.

In the end, I looked up everything related to the LLC the Partners and the Sunshines own just to make absolutely, 100 percent sure I was right. Nope. No Web site and 45 minutes of my life I can't get back.

I am sure Mr. Partner had the purest of intentions, but I already have enough crazy in my life.

Well, What Do You Know?

In a bizarre turn of events, Attorney Flip wrote me early this morning. He had an update--as in he (or a member of his staff) had done actual work on this file. Hmmm... I wonder how many lawyers in Birmingham called him and asked about this particular case. Or, maybe he reads this blog? (Hello Flip!--Just in case.)

Not that it matters. It looks like there has been some significant headway. I suspect the "headway" was done in the past few days, but whatever! I am just glad there was action. There may possibly, maybe, be a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. Here's hoping to a happy ending sooner than later.

Boarding the Hope Train

In my real estate life, I have listed a home about a mile away from my house. So, every morning or so, I go for my walk and I walk by my listing. The house is vacant. The owners are out of state. It isn't my job as a real estate agent to maintain the house or check on it, but it doesn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes on the place. Not that it does me any good. Because I have now been over there twice only to discover at 6:30 a.m. that something was stolen.

So, there I was Friday morning at 6:30 a.m. grumbling about why someone would steal something stupid out of the padlocked back yard, when my phone rang. It was from a 205 area code. Normally when my phone rings with a 205 area code at some horrid hour of the day, it is usually Ms. Angie in a panic because a thingy is broken/on fire/flooding. She saves the rent will be late for a reasonable hour.

But not Friday's call! It was Hope with a Southern draw.

Honey Jo's boss was on the other end of the phone! Sadly, this attorney knew all the players. When I told him the Late Attorney Jon was my former lawyer he said "oh." Not the kind of "oh" one uses to fill in a pause in a conversation or inquire politely about the weather, but as in the long syllabled type of "oh" that usually has a four letter word after it for affect.

When I brought up Attorney Flip, he started telling me what a wonderful guy Flip is and a darn good lawyer too. And why don't I just make Attorney Flip finish the job? I didn't point out the obvious Flip hasn't even bothered to have an intern return one of my calls. Either he isn't as wonderful as people think, or it is me. And I haven't ruled that out--I just don't want to go there.

The gist of my conversation with Honey Jo's boss was that he would look at my paperwork (which I sent him) and he will get back to me. He might even give Attorney Flip a call. Oh goody.

Right now I am riding the Hope Train that Honey Jo's boss will call me back soon with good news.

Just Saying...

There is nothing so humiliating and depressing as being blown off by every legal person in Birmingham, including someone as pleasant sounding as "Honey Jo." 

Update on The Great Lawyer Hunt

I have left another voice mail and e-mail for Attorney Flip. I didn't expect him to respond to either, but at least I can use this as part of the information it appears I will be turning into the Alabama BAR.

My complaint is simple: I paid for services. I am not getting services, nor have I gotten services. In fact, all I have gotten is a bill and silence. Flip could fire me as a client if he didn't want to assist me. But he hasn't. Therefore, he is on the hook at the moment for giving me an explanation as to what is going on with my issue (though I can pretty much answer that: he is doing nothing about it).

The extremely unhelpful person at the Alabama BAR Association did tell me she couldn't do anything but direct me to their Web site where I can file a complaint. The only issue with filing a complaint is that it doesn't get me closer to getting my situation resolved. However, it may very well cause Flip to get off his caseload and give me an update on what has been done. I can take that information to a new attorney. Which is all I really expect at this point.

Meanwhile I have been attorney hunting. Kirby gave me the name of two people. One of whom I know is very familiar with the Late Attorney Jon. So, I am going to pass on that one.

The other name Kirby gave me is an attorney who specializes in "the hood." I am not sure if this is what I need for a small administrative matter, but I am running out of options. When I called the Hood Lawyer, I was told he is out of town for a week. When I asked if that meant until Monday or next Wednesday, I was informed through an extremely thick drawl that I could barely understand, "August 5." Last time I checked, that would be more than a week. The assistant didn't offer to take a message for me either. I think.

Oh yes, and just to summarize how the Great Lawyer Hunt is shaping up: I also left a message for someone named--and I am not making this up--"Honey Jo."

Baseball or Grammar?

I have two posts written neither are ready to be posted. Sorry.

I do have some news. For those of you familiar with the Marty Sunshine employment saga, he has been offered a lateral position with his company. This job should be lay-off proof and keep him employed for the long haul. This is a heavy burden that has been lifted from the Sunshine household.

The following is the best I have today. I realize I may be the only person in the world who loves grammar humor. You had your choice of this or a rant about how the Diamondbacks are no longer in first place--which is not "all right".

Why? Because I Prefer Not To Think About It

I managed to miss the pow-wow with Mr. Partner today. Fate stepped in and decided to make my air conditioner die this morning. So, darn! I had to wait for the AC guy instead of rehashing the same tired conversations between the Sunshines and the Partners once again.

This time, Mr. Partner threw in a new one. He wanted to know why I don't tell him right away when we have repairs. Even as I write this, I am looking dumbfounded at the sentence above. Mr. Partner is supposed to be a silent partner--one who only gets information on a quarterly basis. Granted, it is more of a quarterly-ish basis, but still!

When I get a call from Ms. Angie at 6 a.m. telling me a widget fell off the thingy and it needs to be fixed by the local tradesman in the next hour or the house will flood/catch fire/implode, I am not thinking "Hm... should I wake up Mr. Partner and ask his permission to call a plumber, electrician, shaman?"

What I am thinking "Why does this stuff always happen at horrid hours of the morning and more importantly why does Ms. Angie only speak with perfect diction when she has a crisis at her home?" I have been doing this routine for 10 years. The plumber/electrician/shaman's phone numbers are all programmed into my phone. They know me. They send me post cards from exotic locales. They send me thank you cards for financing their yachts. We have a system.

It isn't that I am purposely ignoring Mr. Partner. But, I have to tell you, once the said tradesman is contacted, the issue is resolved and I can no longer understand Ms. Angie, I put the entire scenario out of my head until the bill comes.

Silence

One of the most annoying lessons I have learned from this whole landlord-thingy is to interpret silence.

When I don't hear from stable, long term tenants it means everything is ok.

When I don't hear from needy, drama-driven tenants is means everything is not ok. I will be in for a sob story about how rent is late because the rent money was conveniently stashed in their pocket while they dutifully were walking to the post office to mail me the rent and they got mugged by a gang of preschoolers who wanted the loot so they could buy cookies and chocolate milk.

When I don't hear from lawyers it means I am being blown off.

When I don't hear from Mario the property manager it means he has nothing to say (which works for me).

When I don't hear from Kirby it means he doesn't have time to respond to my 176 texts, e-mails and phone calls from me, all asking what is going on with my vacant home and the other pressing issue I threw his way.

Guess who was supposed to get in touch with me a week ago?

Feeling Rowdy

At some point in my recent past, one of my three readers sweetly suggested that when she reads my posts she just naturally assumes I tie on on every chance I get. I can see where she got that impression. And for the record. I don't. I am a sip of Communion wine every Sunday and half a beer once a week kind of party animal.

And if I am really rowdy, I might just drink a whole beer once a week. Maybe.

However, much more of this Great Lawyer Hunt and I may have reason check myself into Betty Ford.

The Great Lawyer Hunt should not be taken lightly. Last week I talked to Mr. Abbot. He was the lawyer recommended in a letter from Flip--the attorney who was allegedly helping me. Mr. Abbot sent me an e-mail after business hours Friday telling me to make Flip finish the job. That's all well and good, but Flip isn't returning my calls, e-mails or smoke signals. And I am almost out of carrier pigeons.

In a feeble effort not to employ another attorney, I did call Flip today and leave a message. I sounded a lot more chipper than I felt. I didn't tell him that he came highly recommended and everyone I spoke with had the distinct impression he was the greatest guy around. And, as a side note, when you are rejected by the greatest guy around, it really wrecks havoc on the ego. Nobody loves me enough to fix my small administrative issue.

What I did say when I reached Flip's voice mail today was that I employed him to resolve this and I would greatly appreciate an update from him or one of his lackeys associates. After all, it has been a damn year bless his heart. I wished him well, repeated my phone number and e-mail address (both of which I know he has) and made a note on my calendar to call him later in the week.

And I will call.

Meanwhile, I am hesitant to call back the three or four other attorneys I have names for. Flip has been paid for his "services"--whatever that may be (because I still have no idea what he has done). I don't want to incur future bills. I just want my situation fixed before I reach for a whole beer.

I Double-Dog Dare Him

Last week I sent Mr. Partner the first quarter books and a long note with what is going on. Essentially we had vacancies--which happens when you have a gazillion rentals. We had potties back up. We had a this. And a that.

The books for the first quarter show a sizable profit. Simply put, the property management company collected the rent for the month, holds it, and because of the way the banking system involve works, the rents hit my bank account the beginning of the next month. So, rents look a month behind.

However in March, Kirby had his A game on and March's rents showed up in my bank account on March 30 instead of April 1. Therefore, on the financial statement, it showed December's, January's, February's and March's rent. Essentially it looked like we have lots of extra money. If you take the rents over any random six month period, it will even out. It always does.

I explained this to Mr. Partner. The financial statement he was looking at was a snapshot in time. That's all. It isn't a reflection of the bank account, as most of that money is taken out for mortgages (which aren't paid until April 4th or so).

Mr. Partner in turn didn't fully grasp this. He never does. We have had this conversation many times before. In my report to Mr. Partner, I pointed out we (Marty and I) had footed the bill for some repairs at one of our vacancies. We also have home owner's insurance due this month. When could we expect his contribution? This is also nothing new. We have home owner's insurance due every July.

In fact, the scenario outlined above is nothing new for the past several years. The way we operate, we pay home owner's insurance out of pocket. We always have. Also, because of several vacancies we didn't have the cash in the bank account to cover the repairs at one of our homes and the home owner's insurance. This happens too. Welcome to owning a gazillion properties that were purchased when the market was fabulous and before unemployment was 18 percent in Birmingham.

What Mr. Partner did do was ignore me and write directly to Marty Sunshine. He told Marty he didn't want to "upset" me. My real guess is he didn't want me to go into serious bitch-mode when he said what he wanted to say. Sadly for Marty, I did--but only at Marty. I am biting my tongue with Mr. Partner.

Mr. Partner has decided to "audit" us. He is going to bring in his own team of experts--ones who hopefully can read competently financial statements. Mind you, Diamond Jim--a licensed CPA--has to put his stamp of approval on everything sent to the IRS. But, whatever. Apparently Mr. Partner feels money is somehow being funneled somewhere and it isn't the company.

It is obvious isn't it by our extravagant lifestyle and wild European vacations? My trips to Birmingham to check things out, talk to lawyers and inspect homes are generally on Marty's and my dime. We live as modestly as we can, knowing that every July we have home owner's insurance due and every December we have property taxes due.

I welcome Mr. Partner's audit. In fact, I will be happy to tell him the above and more when he gets hold of the books. And, if he finds more money it will be reimbursed to me first.

The Great Lawyer Hunt

I am currently looking for an attorney who will help me with this mess the Late Attorney Jon left me in. Last year I hired Flip to do this. I paid him. Called him regularly. E-mailed him as well. Flip, in turn ignored me.

Early on, I saw the flaw with this game plan: Hope doesn't get e-mails read or phone calls answered. I happen to know letters to the Alabama BAR or the Alabama Attorney Generals' office are much more effective. But I was trying not to burn any bridges. And besides, I choose to label my issue a small administrative matter which just needs a wee bit of attention. I would eventually get around to fixing it. Which is now.

A couple of weeks ago Flip sent me a letter telling me to call him to discuss a lawyer named Mr. Abbot who may have an interest in helping me. Flip said he wasn't sure he would take my case. But I was to call Flip and he would explain everything. So, I ramped up my call/e-mail/smoke signal campaign and got nowhere faster.

The underlying message in Flip's letter was that he wasn't going to touch my small administrative matter, probably because there are other consequences--like he is a personal friend to Late Attorney Jon's family and my teensy tiny administrative matter could easily be construed as a one-way ticket to a sinkhole landing in Birmingham Society hell. (But really, I prefer to consider this a simple administrative matter). If it is indeed a one-way ticket, it could get awkward next time Flip's wife and Mrs. Late Attorney Jon are seen socially. So, essentially to me it looks like Flip is rescuing himself. Though he hasn't exactly told me that.

So, I have spent the last ten days looking for looking for another attorney to handle this small administrative matter. My main criteria was that I wanted someone who worked out of Shelby County--the county where this house in question happens to reside. It also meant I would have a better chance of finding a lawyer who's wife didn't have regularly active social functions with the delightful Mrs. Late Attorney Jon. One doesn't need awkward ostracizing at tennis matches because someone's feathers are ruffled over what the Late Attorney Jon was or was not supposed to do.

Doing what I always do when I am looking for something in the Birmingham area, I sent out e-mails explaining I want an attorney who RESIDES in Shelby County--and under no circumstances were they to have a law practice office in the suburbs of Vestavia and Mountain Brook.

I thought that was pretty simple. Mario was the first to respond. I asked him personally because (though he doesn't know it), it is the house on Hysteria Lane that he manages that is tied to this small administrative matter. If he knew about my issue, he would not be pleased. And, he probably would--and should--fire me immediately. (that's for another blog).

Mario sent me the name of someone who happens to live two blocks North of Vestavia Hills, a swanky suburb where many of Mrs. Late Attorney Jon's friends reside. When I mentioned this to Mario (who was pleased I asked, as he is really trying to stay on my good side), I pointed out that this particular attorney was not Shelby County.

Mario's response was priceless: He said: "If he is in Jefferson County, he barely is. He is about 25 minutes closer to the Shelby County Courthouse than any other real estate attorneys I know."
Bless his heart. That is so Southern of him to purposely misunderstand what I meant.

Mr. Wonderful Former Tenant also sent me a name of a lawyer he knew. She was very nice. I spoke on speaker phone to her and her colleague who wanted me to understand in no uncertain terms that "My small administrative matter" was going to be small. In fact, it sounds like a colossal nightmare for me that would not going away in an easy fashion. And, to do this would cost at least my first born and probably a few years of indentured servitude to get resolved. But all was not lost. She had a friend who was located off Highway 280 in Mountain Brook who could probably help me. And good luck. I will need it!

Carolsue talked to Ron. Ron gave Carolsue the name of someone who would give me a referral. This gentleman took my call instantly. He was nice enough. He lives and works in Jefferson County (where most of metro Birmingham is located). He didn't know the Late Attorney Jon. But he couldn't help me anyway. He asked me if I needed a pea shooter lawyer or a Sherman tank lawyer. I explained my situation, including what I think is a reasonable course of action that could quickly resolve this. The guy agreed with my reasonable course of action but then urged me to call the Sherman tank lawyer. When I asked for the name of the pea shooter attorney, he said no. That wouldn't help at all. He also promised me the Sherman Tank would not be part of the Mountain Brook cocktail party crowd under any circumstances.

In fits desperation, I looked over the letter Flip sent me. He mentioned Mr. Abbot who might be willing to take my case--but he said this guy hadn't agreed to it yet. Figuring I had nothing to loose, and figuring he already knows what is going on (and because he came from Flip, he probably hangs out with the Late Attorney Jon's family, but whatever).

It took two tries to get in touch with this guy. (I left messages saying Flip gave me his name. The receptionist seemed to be pleased to hear such wonderful words while she ruminated about the character of Mr. Flip. This isn't exactly lying. I never said I got a referral from Flip. Just that I had a name of someone Flip mentioned.).

That not-exactly a lie got me a call from Matt the paralegal. He was familiar with the Late Attorney Jon cases and some of the challenges Jon's clients are facing right now (which always blows me away when people just sort of assume you know all the ins and outs of a tragedy and don't hold back on the gossip).

Matt was kind enough to ask me to repeat my issue and admitted he didn't have any particular experience with Alabama Real Estate Law. But from everything I told him, it sounded like a small administrative matter. How hard could it be? Matt needs to talk with Mr. Abbot. I will know more later this week.

If Mr. Abbot doesn't work out, I will also go to plan C. Kirby gave me the name of a lawyer in the "hood" (Kirby's words). Yep, I am guessing he doesn't spend a lot of time at the Mountain Brook Country Club.

I also have a plan D: A lawyer I found from another former tenant that resides in Columbiana, Alabama.

Plan E is another attorney who happens to reside in Aniston, Alabama.
 

Out of the Quiet

Yes, yes, yes. I am here. My quiet it over. I am too co-dependent on my therapeutic blog.  I am the first to admit I am needy.

It wasn't really my fault I am blogging. Last month, Kirby sent me a sweet, soothing e-mail telling me that there had been a storm near one of my vacant homes. And, wouldn't you know, a tree limb fell down, taking out the pole that strung the electric lines to the house.

Incidentally, Alabama Power is going to replace the pole and the lines running to this house. They told Kirby to "Sit tight" they will get there in "a spell."  Hopefully I can translate that to the house will have electricity this week.

Seriously? What sane person can read this and not feel their head ready to explode?

Out of the Mouth of Babes

It has been a long week, complete with drunk neighbor coming into my home, screaming at my daughter and me (in front of my children) telling the drunk to jump in the lake.

Then there was yesterday with Marty Sunshine's family, at a funeral saying good bye to a really awesome person. The rest of that day was spent with me gritting my teeth and saying, "bless your heart" at a variety of his extended family.

Which brings me to Buckaroo's innocent question to Marty yesterday: "Why doesn't Mom get along with anybody?"

Marty's reply: "Because she is a landlord and there is no amount of bull s--- she hasn't seen."

Into the Quiet

The day I graduated from college, I grabbed James Mitchner's Centennial, plopped myself down on the couch and only moved when absolutely necessary. It took about three weeks to completely decompress, with me only coming up for air to answer the incessant phone calls from a friend of mine who was trying to set me up with a guy "who had a great personality."

Those weeks of decompression were quiet. I cleared out the years of intense projects, papers and college life. I rested, void of distractions, allowing myself to relax and ease into the new season of my life I was entering.

Lately, I have been living that quiet time again. I am entering a different season.

We closed our property management division of our accidental business, which focused all my time and energy for the past 10 years. We still have challenges in Alabama. However, one main lesson I learned from managing homes is the time goes by anyway. No matter if Kirby or Mario are dealing with painters or if I am, the painters will still take the same amount of time. Me being anxious about it (because I am managing the day to day activities), doesn't make these people work any faster, nor does it change the outcome.

I feel like I have written the same story over and over again. The names and homes have changed. In fact, as I am writing this--and I swear I am not making this up--I just got a call from from the brother of a neighbor of my home at ________________ and there is a ______________ problem going on there right now. I don't know exactly how he got my number, because I don't even know who this neighbor is. Did he want to help me, or was he looking for easy money? I now have boots on the ground over there. I gave him Kirby's number and told him to call.

There are other things that I haven't written about, that are still unresolved. Attorney Jon caused a legal nightmare for me that is ongoing. He was a great, wonderful man, but very disorganized. And now I am looking at having to get another attorney to resolve this mess.

Legal Eagle blew me off last year. She said she couldn't meet with me for an hour during my visit to Birmingham because three weeks later she would be going on vacation. Jack left me a mess too, though we parted friends. I haven't heard from him, and after what I saw with the house he and I owned and he was managing, I don't really feel the need to contact him either. I think both of those relationships came to an end because of Attorney Jon's death and subsequent legal mess I have to deal with.

Then there is the woman I never met and never will. She disappeared, leaving behind a toddler my tenant was granted custody of. There are many unanswered questions related to this, including, what is that grave-shaped spot in the back yard of one of my homes that every one is ignoring? It is still being ignored. I am finally ok with that. I hope they find this woman somewhere else. Preferably alive.

I am tired. I need quiet. I need to change, grow and not be involved in Alabama. The quiet I have felt in the past few months has been cathartic. A welcome change from the drama of the every day Mrs. Landlord calls.

In keeping with my quiet, I have been noodling what to do about this blog. I am so grateful I have had an outlet to channel some of the craziness I experienced. And, I am even more grateful that I have had a few friends who came along for the ride. Thank you all.

Regarding this blog, do I take a break as I change seasons? Do I change my focus (a pretty narrow scope if you think about it: managing properties, fixing our undercapitalized issues and baseball)? Do I start a new blog? Or do I just let it slip away into the quiet as well? I don't have an answer right now. But I am thinking at this point, I may just set it aside and see where this new season takes me.

--SW

Oh, what happened to the guy my friend was hell-bent on me dating? I married him a few years later and we started our own adventures.

Random Bama

I am thinking this person is residing in the wrong state. By the way, it does not say "Royalty."

_______________________________________________

I got a text today from someone at 2:47 p.m. (that would be 4:47 p.m. Alabama time on a Friday afternoon) saying, "Mrs. Landlord, I need a plumber. My potty backed up yesterday." I have no idea who the text was from. 

At 2:47 p.m. today, I was busy--in fire drill mode actually--with my nudist seller who is hoping to close on Monday. And, as I am only managing a few homes, and I trust those particular tenants I am managing, I just sent a text back telling them to call a plumber. The outcome would have been the same if I had known if it was Mrs. Sherwood, Ms. Angie or Mrs. Green. I guess I will find out when the bill comes.
_______________________________________________
Marty Sunshine found a few of the lessons we have learned from managing a business in the South to have come in handy. The out-of-state interview he had the other day was for a job in the South. Early on, Marty mentioned he has family "in the area" (if you count Florida as South--which Southerners don't) and we own property in Birmingham. Marty said the man interviewing him suddenly perked up, became a lot more friendly and his drawl immediately got a lot thicker. I guess that was a secret code for something. 
_______________________________________________


And finally, I would like to give a shout-out to Carolsue's daughter. She graduated from law school today and there are a lot of proud people in the South as we speak. Though I have never met her, Carolsue has been keeping me abreast of her adventures since the days she was an undergrad.

So, Congrats Lawyer Girl! It would be really awesome if you specialize in real estate.

Waterford

Not to jinx anything here, but Daisy tells me the home in Waterford may, possibly, maybe be rented. IF I am willing to take care of a few itsy-bitsy issues. First, the carpet in the bedrooms needs to be replaced. I had heard that before from Kirby a few years ago and chose to ignore it. So, now I am guessing it is probably 100 percent true.

I am hesitant to send James, the Hell's-Angel-Turned-Carpet installer out there. It is 40 miles from his home and last time I sent him there, he dumped the used carpet on the side of the home. I suspect that is how he keeps his prices extremely low.

Also, apparently there is an infestation of fleas at this vacant home. So, there needs to be a low-grade thermal nuclear weapon dropped on the spot which may, possibly, maybe eliminate the issue. Maybe.

The tenants are apparently a "sweet couple" with "cute kids." They say they have no pets (uh-huh) and are "clean" people. They also want to move in June 1. They also want to paint the royal-blue bedroom on their own dime. That works for me. Perhaps the fleas will be dead by then. 

Danville

As a pro-active stand on his possible impending lay-off, Marty Sunshine had an initial interview today with a company out of state*. This job interests him, but it was just a first interview and currently there is no reason to get too excited about it.

However, because change freaks me out, last night I did my general recon of this potential location. I looked into some of the basics: the cost of living, crime and how far away the Costco was from the city which we could be potentially living in (three hours). I also checked into home schooling laws for that state. Actually, just like Phineas and Ferb, this job is in a "Tri-State Area", so I have my choice of home school laws. The state in question had a Web site dedicated to the their home school laws, and just to make things interesting, the site was riddled with type-os. 

What I don't know just yet (and it may not matter if he doesn't get past the first interview) is where to live over there. Trying to figure out where the most desirable rental area happens to be, I pulled up the local school district. The thought is that the better areas had better schools. Apparently in this city, that is not the case. Not only were they not boasting their fabulous test scores, they weren't boasting much about anything. Instead, the district posted an "action plan," explaining what they were going to do in the up-and-coming school year to improve their lot in life. I am thinking there is a reason the population has expanded into the tri-state area.

So, I am still not freaking out about three (and soon to be four) vacant homes. I have no energy.


*In all fairness, he has three interviews this week. The other two positions are local-ish. One decided against because the commute was 70 miles a day.

I May Start Freaking Out Tomorrow

Experience tells me I really should be freaking out right about now. But currently I am not.

Grayson Valley is still not rented. I am told it is partially because I am not allowing for pets. Which I am not. I have brand-new flooring in this place. I have an emotional attachment to my new flooring. I told Kirby this and he just politely laughed and muttered something about me being the one to make the decisions.

The house in Waterford came vacant at the end of last month. The tenants moved out because the air conditioning wasn't working right--though it has been fixed (and don't ask me why it wasn't working once again. The house is 10 years old!). And the second reason is there were termites. The house was also treated for termites immediately. I am not convinced there were termites, but I have no reason not to believe the three people who said otherwise. Kirby gave me the punch list of what needed to be fixed for this house. There are a lot of small maintenance items and that surprises me. Don't you think the tenants would have been able to take a screw driver to a door and tighten the hinge themselves in order to make the door close properly? After all, the husband is a mechanic. He probably owns a screwdriver or two.

Hysteria Lane--the home Mario manages--is also coming vacant at the end of this month. The tenant asked for a ridiculous reduction in rent as an enticement to stay. I countered back and suggested she move into Waterford. And, just to make things more tidy, the tenant at Waterford could move into Hysteria. Apparently nobody took me seriously. Mario's people sent me an "action plan" as a way of saying, "yep, we are on this." The action plan cleverly includes staying in touch with the tenant while they are in the process of moving out, conducting a final walk-through and advertising the home for rent. Frankly, they lost me at "staying in touch with the tenant while they are in the process of moving out." When one is in the process of moving, they don't really have time to stay in touch.

Mrs. Roebuck also moved out last week. A long-long time tenant, this home is now vacant. Kirby gets this one this week. In some ways it is easier to turn over a home where a tenant has been living there for a year, than one where a tenant has been living there since the dawn of time. Not looking forward to that punch list.

And then, mix in the impending fact Mr. Partner and Marty Sunshine's company has jumped on the lay-off bandwagon and neither of them expect to be employed there past the summer and you can see where I am coming from. However, I am not hysterical. I am totally zen. Or, I am an ostrich.

Mayday

As of today I have three vacant homes. I hear I have another one coming open June 1. I am not necessarily complaining. Nor am I panicking just yet. Maybe in another week or two I will do that.

What I would really prefer is just have tenants.