A Ray of Hope-ish

I got an offer on my redneck hovel in Leeds. Actually, I got the offer last week. It is a low-low offer. Though I am not against the price exactly, I was totally against the terms. Let's just say, it isn't a win-win.

When Ray sent me the offer last Thursday, all he wrote was "I don't like the seller. They don't always close." And then I didn't hear from him until Monday afternoon, though I asked him several questions Thursday such as: how do we counter this to a more amenable offer?

By Monday I had already called Luigi to complain about Ray's lack of initiative and Luigi--who is probably sick of my weekly examples of how I would sell a house if I were Ray (or anyone else for that matter)--apparently had a little chat with Ray. It seems Ray has changed his tune from, "Do whatever you want, I don't care if you sell this house," to "How can I help you, Mrs. Landlord who has a gazillion homes you want to sell and if I do this well you may call me again to help you."

In the case of this particular offer, I decided to pass. I am not excited about the crazy terms. For example, if I want some other closing attorney other than Flip, I can pay for them on my own AND pay for their closing attorney. Additionally, the earnest money they are proposing putting down to hold this home for them is about par with the hourly wage of a small Guatemalan sweatshop apprentice. And, let's not forget my favorite: in order to make this sale go through, they need the social security number of the tenant before their inspection period is over with--though I don't know why.

It does seem Ray is a bit more responsive to me as a client. It is too bad Luigi had to have another pep talk with him to make this happen. And sadly, Ray is still much, much better than Slick Rick in Calera.

A Plethora of Dumbasses

I think I spend 83.76 percent of my time when I first start working with a client explaining Zillow, Truila and the rest of the Internet real estate sites are not their friends. There are many reasons for this and if you want a list, feel free to privately contact me and expect to spend an hour of your time listening to my reasons. But it boils down to this: They are often wrong. Often.

Zillow, et. al. is good for figuring out a ballpark price for a neighborhood. And I often use it for such when I am stuck myself and want an idea of what I can expect. But I use it only for a benchmark.

I say this because Slick Rick got back to me. He tells me my 2,500 square foot, 9 year old home on Hysteria Lane is worth $98,000. Mind you the home in Waterford--which is less than two miles away, the same age and half the size is worth more than that. Also my home in Alabaster which is slightly smaller but similar in age, appearance and neighborhood, is worth much, much more than that.

Heck! For that matter, Ray is allegedly listing my redneck hovel in Leeds for more than that (though I expect I will get less than $98k when all is said and done).

So pardon me if I don't believe Slick. Mind you, he didn't send me sales comps. He just sent me an e-mail today telling me my home was worth $98k, letting me know (again) he charges 6 percent and how hard he works for it, and what price did I want to list the home for?

And though I loathe Zillow, I did do a quick glance on it to see what I could expect. Zillow's estimate is much closer to what I was expecting. And they gave me sales comparables.

All Slick has told me thus far is he doesn't want my business. And I guarantee when I go to sell this house, he will not be my agent.

Nausea on Hysteria Lane

It appears the tenant on Hysteria Lane moved out in the middle of the night. Actually, she waltzed in to Mario's office Monday, straight to Bruce's desk and slapped down the keys, proudly saying she was out of my home and out of their life. At that point, Bruce politely reminded her she signed a two year lease and she was on the hook for the rest of the rent whether she liked it or not.

I am guessing she forgot about that second year.

I have asked Bruce about three times why she moved out, and he hasn't responded. My gut tells me it is because I wouldn't compensate her for her "troubles" when she flooded my home last February. Of course, had she not flooded my home, she wouldn't have had trouble, but that's just how I look at it.

When Bruce told me about this (he e-mailed me because he is afraid I will yell--or so I have been told), I asked him how much the home was worth. In all fairness, I am pretty sure we are upside down, or at least close to even on this particular property. It is in a nice neighborhood and rents quickly, so I don't see any reason to dump it at this time. I have never asked for comps before and frankly, I just didn't know what to expect. So, I asked.

Bruce grossly misinterpreted my question and sent me another e-mail (bless his heart). He stated me he was sorry to loose this house and my business, he would immediately take down the sign and he would have someone contact me right away about listing it.

True to his word, Slick Rick sent me an e-mail three seconds later. Slick told me he was familiar with the area because he sold one home there years earlier and he charges 6 percent. And by the way, he didn't have any idea what the home was worth, but what did I want to sell it for?

Between Bruce, Slick and Ray (who is allegedly listing the home in Leeds) I have to wonder how any of these folks make a living.

Leedsing Me On

So, Ray got back to me and said he was going to list the home at the exact same number Zillow suggests my home is worth. It isn't that I don't believe Zillow's "zestimate"--but they are not the best judge of comps. The price Ray quoted me seems about $7,000 higher than it should be.

When he gave me the magic listing price, I said, "If you are good with that, I am good with that." I am guessing he will come back to me in two weeks and say, "the price is too high." At which point I will ask what he has done to market the home.

Though I know this is Ray's job, I may advertise it in some other markets and see what comes of this. There may be investors who are ready to move their portfolios into the Birmingham market. You never know? Frankly, I would like to leave this task to Ray, but it took him a month to put the property on his own multiple listing service.

That said, the home is allegedly listed. I am now crossing my fingers and toes this place does sell. Soon.

P.S. Women Do Not Keep Leather Couches in Their Garage

Dear Joe,

May I call you Joe? Thanks.

I was in your home today. Actually, I was in Mitch and Tonya's home today. You just live there. You haven't met Mitch and Tonya. They are awesome clients and even more awesome friends. I sold them the home you currently reside in. This past week, while at lunch with Tonya, she tells me Lisa--her tenant--has been acting funny lately.

You know Lisa don't you? She is on the lease for the home you live in. You, by the way, aren't. In fact, you aren't supposed to be there at all. but I digress...

Anyway, according to Tonya (your defacto Landlord) Lisa has been acting peculiar. She is in the medical profession and rent is constantly late. That's a red flag. An HOA violation came in recently and when Tonya called Lisa about it, she said, "I will find out whose car that is." Instead of something like, "Oh, I don't know anything about this" or a simple, "It won't happen again." And then there is the fact a man was seen leaving the townhome with a sweet little girl recently. Lisa doesn't have a little girl. She has two well-grown teen daughters.

All of these comments Tonya mentioned during our lunch made my sixth sense kicked in. I would like to tell you I have the gift of prophecy, but it is really more like, been there, done that. In the landlord vernacular, excuses means problems. Lisa has recently been full of them.

So, Mitch and Tonya opted for an inspection. I tagged along as well. Lisa was gracious and told us, though she would not be home at the time, we were welcome to come in and look around. And this is where you come in Joe.

There are many, many reasons why your ruse did not work. And, in the future, if you are ever trying to fake out a landlord who does not know you are living in their home, and more importantly, you are supposed to be a divorced woman with weekend custody of your teen daughters, you might want to adhere to the following:

Though you left the place relatively clean today, the bathtub is black. Women do not have black bathtubs.

Women do have black shoes. Whether sneakers, stilettos or Toms, we own at least one pair of black shoes. Always. In fact, we own shoes. If you took the time to shove various extra-large polyester dresses and 1970's grandma print long sleeve shirts into the closet, you might have thought to put in a pair of shoes and perhaps even a pair of pants.

Though this is a delicate subject, it disturbs me greatly what kind of scam you were putting on. Women do not proudly display a Costco sized box (unopened) of feminine hygiene products on a self six feet above the potty. Ever. However, I give you props for the feminine touch on that one, because that's about the only place we saw anything girly.

And for example, when it comes to being girly, single women do not have six-foot lithographs of Joe Camel proudly displayed on their entry wall. Women do have some sort of beverage on hand at all times. Even if we aren't expecting company, one can find anything from bottled water to diet soda to a bottle of wine in any woman's pantry.

And yes, did I mention Lisa was single? This is why a pillow with her married last name embroidered on it as the only accessory in the sparse living room is a bit of a jolt. If I were divorced and kept my ex's name, I certainly wouldn't want a pillow with his name and the words, "circa 1995" on it.

And let's talk about the teen daughters. They are too old to share one bed. And, the clothes in the room are for a much, much smaller child. Also, just as an FYI: the turtle in your daughter's aquarium is dead. Women notice dead critters in their homes.

Once we started putting the pieces together, it got even more awkward. You see, though you took a lot of effort to cover up your tracks (and suggest Lisa had a very ugly wardrobe), you left a relatively conspicuous pile of legal papers, outlining your probationary terms as well as letters from lawyers. Given the number of envelopes and some of the dates, it appears you have a lot of baggage you have now brought into Mitch and Tonya's life stemming back as far as Lisa's pillow.

Though I am sure your mother thinks you are all kinds of awesome, Mitch and Tonya did not agree to rent to you. And, if they had known Lisa was going to pull this kind of a shenanigan, they wouldn't have rented to Lisa either. Which reminds me, where is Lisa? Is she in the suitcase? Or are you possibly wearing the paisley orange and sunburst yellow caftans and a wig (and obviously walking around barefoot) on a regular basis? Or was it that Lisa couldn't handle being alone and moved in with some guy? Instead of breaking her lease she did everyone a "favor" and decided to put together this ruse?

You should know, Joe, Lisa will not be happy if you leave the place a disaster. Arizona is a very friendly landlord state and Lisa will be on the hook and have her wages garnished for any damage you do.

At this moment, I am sure Mitch and Tonya are evaluating their options and you will soon find out your fate. They weren't excited today when we went in. Neither was I. These are good people who deserve better than the liars and crooks they are now dealing with.

Sincerely,

The Landlord

No Leads for Leeds

About a week ago I had a chat with Luigi about my frustrations with Ray's work ethic. My goal was to come across professionally and not as a whiner. When we hung up, I felt I had successfully done what I intended to do.

I conveyed that I was surprised at Ray's inability to cooperate and list the homes (the one in Leeds is all he has left) like he is contracted to do. I was disappointed Ray only filled out the commission instructions of the six page listing agreement, leaving me to put in my own terms. I shared how I have asked him to call me about marketing the home and yet I haven't heard word one from him. I explained that I was puzzled that he wasn't using this listing as an opportunity to drum up more business for himself and the property management company he works for. After all, one listing can be worth several sales if done right.

Though it was a phone call, I got the impression Luigi had face-palmed his forehead and was shaking his head on the other end as he agreed with my analysis. He didn't make excuses for Ray, only saying he thought this would have been a great opportunity for him and he was unsure what the holdup was. Luigi promised to speak with Ray and get things sorted out.

My last two weeks were complicated and though I fantasized about selling all of my Alabama homes several times last week (as I do on a regular basis), I didn't really put much realistic hope anything was getting done. This week, I looked up my Leeds address to see if the major home sale real estate sites had picked up the listing. Nothing.

So, I e-mailed both Luigi and Ray again. I simply asked what had been done. Luigi wrote me back saying Ray was out of town and he would check into it. My reply was terse: I don't beg people to take my money. So if Ray isn't interested, just let me know. I have better ways to extend my energy and I can think of two agents off the bat I would be happy to give the listing to.

Today Ray wrote me back. He would happily list my home, I just needed to give him a dollar amount to offer the home for sale. I didn't pop a vein, but I did reply with another terse comment, explaining he has given me a $30,000 range of what this home is worth, but has yet to provide me with any comps. As I don't have a real estate license in Alabama, I am relying on Ray, a real estate professional, and his expertise to guide me into making an informed decision.

I did not cc Luigi. But I was darn tempted.

If I can make a bold prediction, Ray will do absolutely nothing with this listing. It will not get on MLS. Or if it does, it will not be on there correctly. I will never get an accurate assessment of what the home is worth (Zillow says the high end of Ray's prediction--he significantly lowered the price once he found out work was involved--not that Zillow is terribly accurate, but right now Zillow is working harder for me than Ray is). I further predict about two weeks from now I will have another come-to-terms meeting with Luigi, Ray's boss. Meanwhile, the home is rented and eventually the listing will expire. 

Allergic to Work

The nicest way word I can think of to describe Ray--the agent Luigi assigned to sell the two homes I wanted sold--is a dumbass. I rarely will just blatantly outright trash someone on my blog, so you get the idea. Ray is a dumbass. He is also damn condescending--in that Southern man-don't-you-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it way. Wrap up those elements of his personality and what I can see about his real estate selling skills and you have what I never, ever wanted for a real estate agent to represent me and my best interests.

We started this saga months ago, though it was unbeknownst to all parties at the time. When I negotiated my property management contracts I put in them that if Luigi's company handled the buyer and seller of a sale of my properties they would take a cut in their commission. This has been a source of contention between Ray and me from day one. He wasn't part of that negotiation and he isn't happy. In truth, he hasn't brought me a sale either. So, currently his commission is zero.

I asked him to list the Alabaster home for sale. I explained it was also for rent. So, if Luigi rented it out first, it would go off the market. If Ray popped it on MLS and we had a contract, too bad for Luigi. I discussed this independently with both Ray and Luigi. I even wrote it in the listing contract (Ray left the entire listing contract blank, including the addresses and price--except the commission instructions, which I changed anyway). It wasn't a shock.

And, because Ray isn't Johnny-on-the-spot, he didn't bother putting the house on MLS until SIX days after I gave him the listing. And he only did it when he found out there was a potential renter interested. And then, he started barking to everyone in earshot (Ms. Amy--at the office they work at together--told me this) that I wanted to sell the place so stop showing it for rent.

Great news! I have a renter for the Alabaster home!

Ray was also directed to sell the home in Leeds. I spent about 30 minutes on the phone with him the day I sent over the listing with the following directive: offer the home for sale to the tenants. If they aren't interested, tell them nothing more. I don't want to scare the tenants away. Just quietly list it on MLS and find an investor. I don't want to do anything to make them uncomfortable.

And, just because I am a high-strung Type-A, I actually wrote the previous in an e-mail. I wanted it very clear the long-time tenants are to feel secure they have a place to live if they don't want to buy.

Now then, for those of you who may find this a bit implausible, please understand, this happens all the time. It is common for a home to be listed in the Multiple Listing Service where a tenant lives. It is common to say, do not disturb the tenants. It takes a LOT longer to sell the home this way and more work has to go into the process, but in the mean-time the agent who lists the home has a chance to find buyers and sellers to grow their business. A good investment listing can generate two or three other sales for an agent. Plus, it can sell their client's home--which is all I really cared about.

Or, if the agent happens to work for a property management company, they can advertise to their landlords and see if they can drum up a buyer that way. Perhaps the owner says, "I am not interested in this particular home, but what else do you have?" It can work in the savvy agent's favor if they know what they are doing.

Ray does not know what he is doing. The tenants do not want to buy the home. But, apparently he told them I was selling. And they have made it clear they are unhappy about this and they have stated they will NOT cooperate with any showings. And now they want to move.

Last Tuesday I sent Ray a note saying I think he and I have not been on the same page about marketing the home and perhaps we could talk later in the week. I had some ideas and would be willing to assist in social media so the work would not be all his. After all, I have a vested interest in getting this house sold.

I have not heard back.

I have since changed my strategy. As long as the tenants stay, the house will not be sold. If they move out, I will take it out of management and find some competent agent to sell the place. And, I happen to know a few savvy agents over there who aren't afraid of work.

In Other News

"What have I become? My sweetest friend. Everyone I know goes away, in the end. You could have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt. If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself, I would find a way." 

--Johnny Cash, Hurt

I just sent the listing paperwork to Luigi and his broker, Ray, to sell two of our homes. I have a myriad of emotions coursing through me right now. The two homes in question are very different. We are selling them for different reasons.

Both are homes we have with Mr. Partner. I am not sure Mr. Partner exactly knows they are being sold. Marty Sunshine told him recently we were going to do it. However, I suspect he hasn't completely grasped this.

To be continued.

Grayson Valley Update

I know this is going to come as a shock to nobody, but the idiots in the Grayson Valley House did not move out last weekend. Luigi went over to do his final walk-through only to find their worldly possessions happily collecting dust. The tenants weren't there, but apparently one adult child was, who didn't seem to grasp the magnitude of the event and let Luigi walk in and look around. Luigi, of course, set this up a week ago, so he had the right to enter anyway.

Not only is the house still occupied, but it isn't as spiffy as it was when Marty and I sunk a small fortune into it last year, getting it ready to rent and undoing the past five years' of Jack's neglect.

When he called me, Luigi didn't exactly elaborate in his voice mail and--to my liver's credit--I didn't call him back. All I know is that it isn't pretty and there is at least a broken window. I am sorta hoping the rest is just easy-to-take-of kinds of things. I did follow up with an e-mail saying I would be happy to discuss this on Friday. And let's talk then. Lucky me. Today is only Thursday.

Even Luigi is out of patience with these folks. And I never thought that could happen.

I regularly fantasize about finding a group of people who don't mind going back to prison and asking them if they want to go over and toss these yahoos out of my home. I won't do that of course. But it has quickly become my happy place.

Tomorrow, or maybe later today, I will fish through my files for the yellow pieces of paper this guy has been sending me on and off for the past few months, asking if I want to sell this particular home. It is an investor. I don't know that I want to sell this specific home right now, but I am opening to see what he has to say.

Random Bama

I may have forgotten to mention this, but last week Luigi managed to find a willing, qualified and capable tenant to rent my Pinson house. They didn't care what color the bathrooms were. They hadn't spoken to the nosy neighbor. They weren't bartering a can of paint for the security deposit. All they wanted to do was just move in.

The only drama that ensued was when I found out the particular tenant's name was Mr. Smith. I had a Mr. Smith. He lived in Moody and is on my top three most hated tenants of all time. Though I know it is a common name, before I agreed to rent my home to the new Mr. Smith, I verified it wasn't Michael Smith and his wife and children.

Though Ms. Amy seemed confused by my impassioned request to verify this (including please give me the guy's last four digits of his Social Security number so I can check it against my records), she helped me out. Once I was certain I wasn't dancing with the devil, I happily approved Mr. Smith.

One can never be too careful. 

__________________________________________________

Kirby may be out of the property management business, but I am talking to him on a regular basis. You see, he is now an HVAC technician. One by one, he is checking on my homes and giving my HVAC units a tune-up. He says he is giving me the "friend discount"--which is really sweet, because I have a gazillion homes with air conditioners.

In addition to HVAC systems, he also happens to be a bit of a handyman. So, Ms. Angie is getting a front door and he is coordinating with Mrs. Sherwood to fix a few things at her home too.

__________________________________________________

Carolsue e-mailed me today. In the event I may ever need such a service, she knows a guy who willingly removes snakes from one's rental homes. For free?! As an added incentive, if it turns out the snake is poisonous, he will pay $5 for the privilege.

He is now on my speed dial.

The Crazies

A few months ago, while minding my own business, my tenant in Grayson Valley called my new place of employment, didn't identify herself and proceeded to ask me a ton of personal questions about my rental home. She was not forthcoming with information and had a strong sense of entitlement. One could argue it ended badly, with me letting loose a few four-letter words at this complete stranger, all while surrounded by people who, up until that moment, really had no idea I swear like a sailor when I am furious. But in truth, the woman exhibited no boundaries and I was just guarding what is rightly mine.

A month later I found out she was secretly trying to buy my house by badgering some retiring Birmingham real estate professional to contact me to see if we would sell "his client" the house. Oh yes, she had given this real estate professional the wrong name, and mis-led him about a few other relevant facts. And, she did not want Marty Sunshine nor I to know it was her. Like we wouldn't find out? 

Fast-forward another month, going through Luigi, we offered the home for sale to her and her husband (who were now current on rent) at a ridiculous price. She responded back, saying she had applied for a mortgage and Luigi would be getting a call, and he had better give her a good reference. Of course, Luigi needs to tell the truth: that being she had been two months late on her rent--which would probably negate any chance she had to purchase a home. To do otherwise would constitute mortgage fraud and he would be in jail. The Feds don't mess around with mortgage fraud.

All was calm for a little while. Then April came and went. And once again, she didn't pay rent.

In May, now two months behind again, Ms. Amy called her while I was on one phone. Amy put the call on speaker phone so I could hear. The tenant didn't seem to be the least bit concerned rent was late. When Amy explained to her the eviction process was being started, the woman didn't say anything to indicate she had a care in the world. Instead, she just said she would get to the rent when she got to it. And what was the big deal? And for Heaven's sake! Just leave her alone. After all, it wasn't a big deal.

"You are two months' late and the owner has contacted an attorney. You will have an eviction on your record and no landlord will ever rent to you, mortgage companies won't lend you money, your wages will be garnished and you will have to pay for an attorney." Ms. Amy said as sweetly as possible. The woman didn't budge and the call ended.

While I was congratulating Ms. Amy for her cool head, Ms. Amy stopped me and said, "She is calling again. Hold on."

Ms. Amy put her on speaker phone again, just in time for me to hear this tenant say as innocently as possible, "Hello Ms. Amy, Did I just miss a call from you?"

I would tell you this tenant is nuts, but that really insults nutty people everywhere. A letter did go out to the folks. Later in the week the husband, realizing that "garnish wages" should be a real concern, contacted Luigi. In the letter he offered to pay the two months he owed "some time in June" and then asked how much we would lower their rent to entice them to stay another year.

I have idly wondered off and on for the past few months what kind of baggage they might have--given she has told everyone I have mentioned hear and in the next paragraph--how she works for an attorney and he is somewhere high on the food chain for a national bank. Gambling addiction? A secret mistress? Drug running? I have heard from all of the above Ms. Tenant has repeatedly bragged how the two of them are making six figures.

The gist is in theory, they are moving out this weekend. Luigi, and Kirby as a favor to me, are going over Monday to do a final walk-through and inspection. The reason Kirby is going is because he helped me last year when I remodeled the place and knows what kind of condition it was in when they moved in. I keep thinking the house will rent easily. It is a nice house. It is in a nice area. And hopefully these crazies are now out of my life.

And by the way, I still plan on garnishing.

Emily Post Doesn't Seem To Cover This

Because I work for a property management company, I happen to know a few inside secrets about how things are handled. One of the biggest is simply: do not to call a property management company the first week of the month. Please.

Those in the office are fielding calls left and right with people saying rent is on time, rent is late because some random event happened or they are moving out. Additionally, more repair requests come in the first week of the month. Tenants seem to feel more embolden right after rent is paid and are more likely to ask for a myriad of fixes they have stored up for the past three weeks waiting until some unsuspecting property management person answers the phone.

That said I am at a quandary. You see, Luigi, who has figured out the best way to get in touch with me is to text me at 5:30 a.m. my time, has done so every day this week. It isn't the 5:30 a.m. I mind too much. Truth be told, I tend to be awake most days by 5 a.m.--whether I want to be or not. In fact, I have told him this is the best time to reach me. As long as I don't have to contribute too much to the conversation.

Luigi apparently has taken to heart the relaxed boundaries I have set in place with him. He is texting first thing. So far this week, every day, some random tenant has had a this or that break. Most of the repairs happen to involve the words "air conditioning" and that isn't really improving my mood much.

But today, something bizarre happened. Luigi didn't text me. He didn't call. He didn't e-mail. It was eerily silent. My conundrum is this: is it appropriate to thank Luigi for taking the day off with burdening me with the news of another broken widget? Or, because it is the beginning of the month, is it more appropriate for me to just lay low and let him get through the first week of the month like the rest of us? 

In a Dark Space

I have been told (repeatedly) this blog is amusing. That's great actually. I want you to be amused. Laughter and learning should go hand in hand.

I personally want to read back years from now and have a chuckle at my own expense--just to see how far things have come. In fact, sometimes in dark moments like these, I do go back into the annals of this journal just to see how I handled something or to realize just how much more experience I have now. Once in a while I even run across a former tenant (or three) I had completely forgotten about. And then I remember why I had erased them from my memory.

I have not felt amused lately. I have been angry. Embittered.

I am angry I have to work so hard to keep these stupid rental homes operating when tenants do things like not pay their rent for two months. And worse, they don't care that they aren't paying. I am furious that I can't buy tires for my car because I don't know how I am going to come up with the mortgage money for three (yes, three) vacancies. Actually, technically just two. I have a deadbeat as well who is allegedly moving "sometime in June". And, I am beyond pissed at Mr. Partner's insinuation that I spend money "frivolously" (his word) on such things as air conditioner maintenance--because the compressor went out.

Incidentally, Mr. Partner has some random solution to our undercapitalized issues (undercapitalized issues which he is blaming me for because I am making frivolous repairs--like Ms. Angie, who needs a front door for her 40 year old home, and can only leave her home right now through the basement--those kind of repairs). His marvelous plan makes quantitative easing (the printing of more money so there is a greater supply--which,  by the way, didn't work out so hot for the Germans in the 1920s) sound like a genius idea.

I have a few other solutions of my own and I rant about them daily to Marty and Bliz, as I have been getting to the office sometimes as late as 8 a.m. and getting home about 12 hours later. I am only paid when and if a home closes, which doesn't happen every Friday. And by the way, I also need tires for my car--did I mention that? And Buckaroo just outgrew every stitch of clothing he owns in a  two week time period. By the way, my solutions include, but aren't limited to, letting the whole thing go and/or selling it all and getting on with my life. Let's consider this a life's lesson and move on, shall we?

But nobody is listening to me.

In all fairness, my funk may be related partially to the clueless person who recently told me I was "greedy" for working so much. 

It isn't that the Alabama bills aren't getting paid. Because they are. But I am not buying tires for my car either. And Buckaroo still needs clothes. I would probably feel better if the house in Pinson was rented (but it isn't and that damn neighbor won't shut up) or the home in Alabaster was rented or the nutcase in Grayson Valley just paid up or moved out like they were supposed to. In all fairness, Luigi has been doing his level best to get the home in Pinson rented. And I did turn down one high-maintenance potential tenant who didn't sound very promising from the get-go.

So, please forgive me if this isn't an amusing blog tonight. I am tired, slightly depressed and the closer it comes to the end of the month when mortgages are due, the more prone I am to hysterics. I desperately want one day off to hang out with my kids and do laundry. Right now I don't see that one free day in my immediate future. I don't feel sorry for me. I signed up for this. I just don't see a way out right now.

Reality Television is NOT Real

I have an applicant for my home in Pinson. Apparently this applicant hasn't spoken with Ms. Nosy. Which is fine by me. I wish I was jumping up and down about this person. However, I am able only to muster a "yay" in a monotone whisper when the occasion arises, but that is about it.

The applicant "loves the house." And "wants to stay there forever." And all sorts of other platitudes potential tenants say to property managers when they like a home. However, she also wants to know if I will "work with the deposits" in exchange for her painting the bathrooms. Mind you, the bathrooms were painted in March. I don't care if she re-paints the bathrooms on her dime. But she isn't doing me any favors to change the color at this point.

What bothered me was the idea of leveraging her deposit for a couple cans of paint. If things go South, her deposit is all I have. I asked Ms. Amy if the applicant has the deposit, just needs it broken down or just thinks this is some warped version of some reality television show where she is supposed to negotiate everything. Ms. Amy didn't know. I am guessing the later.

And speaking of negotiating everything, the applicant in question wants a $200 rent reduction. Her reasoning is that this house has been on the market for so long. I swear I almost rejected her on the spot for that logic. Except the house has been on the market for so long and really does need a tenant. But it has been on the market forever because of other factors. Not because the home is terrible. Because it isn't.

What I did do was say I would go down $100 (and told Ms. Amy to lower it by that amount for anyone else looking). I also said she could paint the bathrooms to her heart's content (with landlord approved colors) but the deposits would be upfront.

My parting comment to Ms. Amy was that I felt tenants who think we are negotiating a Mid-East peace treaty tend to be drama for the duration of their lease. I could cite examples, but my guess is she has had plenty to choose from.

And How Is Your Day Going?

I never thought I would utter the sentence, "I need to find someone who has a backhoe."

Smiles

Diamond Jim just called me. He wanted to let me know he is finally reading The Stand--a book I recommended years ago. And by the way, he thinks it is really good. He told me he will be reading Killing Jesus when he is done--another book I recommended and sent to him.

He left town last week, back to a small Eastern Oregon hamlet where he intends to read and hang out with Mrs. Diamond Jim until he comes back to file more tax returns in a month or so. I have given up on him retiring. I am not even sure he really, truly wants to. And that is just fine by me.

Ms. Nosy

So last Monday, I was talking to Amy--Luigi's assistant--and she tells me she was at the house in Pinson when the neighbor meandered out, flagged her down and decided to have a chat with her. The closest neighbor isn't exactly in shouting distance. This neighbor had to go to some effort to get Amy's attention. And boy did she!

And before I go much further, I should explain something about this house. It is in the mountains. It is on a few acres. It has a pond in the back. It has a wrap-around porch. This is country living. You also should know that this is a very nice house and Luigi, Amy and I have been befuddled as to why this home is still vacant.

Before Amy had the ability to introduce herself and explain that her company was managing my home, Ms. Nosy took over. Going into great detail, she told Amy my home is falling apart. She also said it has toxic mold and someone had recently died in it (oh?!). Ms. Nosy gave Amy a litany of other property defects before Ms. Amy managed to skirt away, drive down the mountain and call me.

I knew about this last week when Luigi called me. However, Luigi had gone back out to the home Tuesday. As soon as he pulled in the neighbor managed to sprint out of her home and corral him. Having no idea who he was, she started in with the same story she had given Luigi and then wrapped it up with a bigoted proclamation that Amy--who happens to be African American was chased off yesterday. Ms. Nosy then proudly suggested she had been chasing off potential tenants with these types of stories. Especially black ones.

This house has been vacant for months longer than it should and now we know why. Apparently Ms. Nosy has taken it upon herself telling lies (mold and the home in disrepair) and added her own bigotry. This has cost me a lot of money in rent and even with this news being a week old I am completely pissed.

Luigi and I debated the trickiness of this situation (he isn't familiar yet with my issue in Leeds. Oh, won't he be in for a treat!). We decided that he will first talk with her, though I am doubting that will do any good. Someone this nosy and this prejudiced isn't going to start minding her own business just because Luigi is going to tell her to stop.

Our next step is finding a a charitable attorney willing to write her a letter ordering her to cease and desist. Perhaps a lawyer's letterhead will scare her enough to at least keep her on her front porch when a car drives up. After that, I am out of options. I am not going to sue her. However, I did ask Luigi what I could sell the home for--though I can already predict how that will go over with Ms. Nosy.

What I really want to do--and even a week later it sounds appealing--is fly to Birmingham, drive up the mountain, knock on her door and give her a piece of my mind. I am going on month five of no rent because of this woman. I have a lot to say to her right now. None of it is appropriate for this family blog. And none of it can be summed up as, "love thy neighbor."

Speechless

Oh... there is never a dull moment in Landlord Land. Today was no exception.

Luigi's assistant, Ms. Amy, called me today. You see, she has the perfect potential tenants who are ready to rent my home. And please, oh please! Would I approve them and their demand for an eight month lease? And just so I knew, they originally wanted a six month lease but Ms. Amy told her up front I would not accept anything less than an eight month lease--so at least that was taken care of. And what did I think?

When I asked why a short term lease, Ms. Amy told me the potential tenants in question are building a home and the builder told them the home would be ready in six months.  "So basically they would be moving out in six months no matter what the lease term was?" I asked. "And, they wouldn't care if there was a hit on their credit for skipping on their lease because at that point, they would owe their home and they have nothing to loose?"

Ms. Amy was silent for a moment or two before she replied, "I hadn't thought of that." And then, as if she had completely missed the gist of my comment she said, "Maybe I could ask them to sign a one year lease instead."

"Won't they still be moving in six months either way?" I asked. And again Ms. Amy was at a loss for words.

With all due respect to Ms. Amy, I will pass.

The Daisy Chronicles--The Last Straw

For you three long-time readers, you may remember Baseball Guy.  I don't write much about him. Baseball Guy is a tenant from years gone by. For a while he lived in Ms. Angie's home--long before Ms. Angie lived there.

He happens to be related to Carolsue, which would chalk him up higher in my esteem if I didn't already think the world of him. Baseball Guy is former military, he has done a plethora of odd jobs for me over the past ten years and he likes baseball. He is dearly protective of me and posts some funny things on Facebook. What's not to love?

In the beginning of January, Baseball Guy got wind that I had a vacant home in Centerpoint. This particular home had been vacant for a very long time, and in all fairness I had turned down two Section 8 tenants in the months' past who appeared on paper to be train wrecks and would have probably caused me carpal tunnel syndrome blogging about their shenanigans. However, the house in question was perfect for Baseball Guy. And right after New Year's he asked me if I would rent to him. I didn't blink and immediately gave Daisy a call, filled her in on Baseball Guy's awesomeness and directed her to contact him immediately.

Now before I go on, let's make sure you and I are on the same page. If you are a property manager and one of your best landlords tells you, "Rent this house to my former tenant and friend," you might want to be very careful what you do, lest it gets back to your best landlord. At least that's how I think. But apparently not everyone agrees. But then again, "Everyone" isn't employed any more either.

Though Daisy knew she was to coordinate with Baseball Guy, she managed to blow this in epic proportions. Many things happened that are too numerous to write about in this segment of cyber space. However, Daisy utterly ignored my directive and then brushed off Baseball Guy. Twice. I am not sure how she thought I wouldn't hear about it. After some frantic nudging from me, she managed to finally meet him and get his security deposit. However, even as I write this, Baseball Guy's cash security deposit he gave to Daisy never made it back to Luigi's broker's account (Luigi has since eaten this).

Fast forwarding through three weeks of drama... February 1, Baseball Guy contacted me at some insane hour. He had moved in the Friday before. However, the house was dirty, the stove didn't work, and he wasn't able to turn on the water because he didn't have a lease. Stoves can be fixed. Homes can be cleaned. But he didn't have a lease!? This was news to me. Daisy gave him keys but didn't give him legal rights to the home. I am still having trouble processing that one.

For those of you who aren't outraged by this last statement, let me please explain: If this was anyone other than Baseball Guy, once the tenants are in the door, moved in and hanging up the "Home Sweet Home" sign, they may not feel so inclined to sign that lease. And THERE WOULD BE NOTHING I COULD DO ABOUT IT UNTIL I WENT IN FRONT OF A JUDGE TRYING TO PROVE I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS ARRANGEMENT.

When I am truly angry, it is best to give me space. Once I confirmed with Daisy that she really did indeed do something so heinous, I needed that space. And sadly, Daisy did not give it to me. She kept calling. And texting. And e-mailing. Her excuse was, she was "too busy to give him an actual lease" (but could give him house keys?). My answer was simply, when I am busy I find someone else in my office to handle these things for me. That's why, just like her, I work with other people who do what I do. Or, if that solution isn't possible, I don't let the tenant move in. Even Baseball Guy.

By the time I got Luigi involved, I was beside myself. Personally, I don't know if this is the final straw that got Daisy fired. I suspect she had dug her grave with Luigi and this was just more fuel. But I for one was calling for her head.

Carolsue once told me never to trust anyone from Louisiana. Daisy is from Louisiana. She is the second person I have met from there and her behavior was just like the other Cajun. When Luigi and I were clearing things up in February, figuring out what was what, and working on moving forward, I flat-out asked him if he was from Louisiana. He may have thought it was a random question, but I now know better. 

The Daisy Chronicles

When Daisy offered to take my properties instead of having them go to Mario, I was grateful. But, I was grateful that the homes weren't going to Mario, not that Daisy was somehow saving me. I figured my portfolio of homes would help her look more glamorous to a prospective employer. I was ok with that because I was getting a new property management company.

I didn't sign my homes over until December 31st, a full week and a half after my vacation just to make sure I had taken some time to check out my new company. My thought was it would be nice to have someone I had already trained and someone who knew my tenants handle things for me. A win-win.

Except things took an odd turn. For example, my home in Chalkville that Mrs. Green moved out of months ago still wasn't rented. When I pressed Daisy about it, she told me my rent was too high and there were much nicer homes for rent in that area. Also, she said Mrs. Green hadn't left the home in great condition. None of this made sense to me. I had always had it rented at much higher rent and I had seen this home last year and Mr. and Mrs. Green were immaculate housekeepers.

In February Daisy rented this home for significantly less money and to a Section 8 tenant. When I didn't show the appropriate amount of gratitude, she was floored. That situation has since been fixed, the tenant was told she couldn't move in and I eventually got what I expected for rent for a tenant I wanted. Incidentally, Luigi tells me my home is the nicest in the area.

Also, my tenant at the Grayson Valley home managed to get my work phone number. She knew enough about me--even though I am not on the title for the home--to find me. I believe Daisy gave her information about me so she could find me. I have an unusual first name and a common last name. However, I am not the only person with my name who happens to be a real estate professional in the Phoenix metro area.

Additionally, my tenant in Pinson moved out January 1st. Daisy knew this, assured me the home was picture-perfect. She told me she even went over and personally turned off the water on the property so the pipes won't freeze. Every time I asked, she would tell me she is showing the home, but it is just so far away she is having trouble finding anyone interested. She promised me it was advertised appropriately and my rent was too high--at a price less than I normally was getting. The house in question happens to be in the mountains. It is one of my favorites, with a wrap-around porch and a pond in the back. Some day I may want to live there.

It turns out the house was in no way ready to rent out. It was dirty. There was trash everywhere. It needed a coat soap and three coats of paint. And, the water was never, ever turned off. In the past week, the property was repaired, cleaned up and on the market for what I expect to be a reasonable amount of money. Luigi has been telling me every time he shows it. If Daisy had been straight with me back in early January, everything would have been done by mid-February and probably be rented out by now.

If you factor in the amount of rent I lost in the past few months with her lies and the amount of money needed to get the place back in order, she darn well better hope she doesn't see me any time soon. In fact, I did factor it all in. When this all came to a head in February I discussed this with Luigi. I didn't mince words. I could tell he had his fill of Daisy by then too. And sadly, this wasn't Daisy's biggest transgression.

But, that is for the next blog.

A Quick Summary

If you took the summation of words in the English language and added a few Yiddish ones for color, you still would not have an accurate description of what it has been like for me to own a gazillion rental homes in Alabama for the past three months and eight days. I can tell you this: I did not go to Birmingham. Everything imploded instead.

Let me back up. Last December, while on vacation, I found out that Kirby's company--the one who manages most of my rental homes--was going belly-up January 1. Daisy, who worked for Kirby and was soon to be out of a job, offered to take my properties to her new company. While hanging out at the world's biggest tourist trap in Orlando one sunny December day, I interviewed Luigi, the man who was going to hire Daisy. I liked him. I liked his philosophy on managing rentals. It seemed like a reasonable fit. Though I knew I was making a financial decision based on a 45 minute phone call, it seemed like a better course of action than giving my properties to Mario, managing them myself or interviewing more property management companies. So, Luigi won.

The deal was that Daisy would handle my accounts and Luigi would just cut the landlord checks every month. I was good with that. Except it didn't work that way. Needles to say, I was getting a bit frustrated and thinking I needed to go to Birmingham, put a boot in the ass of someone--and I didn't care who--and find a reasonable property management company to handle my affairs. I was even willing to take a drive down to Montgomery and have a chat with the Real Estate Commissioner if necessary. All I knew was I was bleeding money.

Then, a few simultaneous events happened--which are blogs unto themselves--and I wrote Luigi a quick note. I asked him to handle a few things that I felt Daisy was lacking. She said she was busy and would "get to them." However I didn't feel like I had time to wait. There also seemed to be a personality conflict between Daisy and a new tenant (also a blog for another time) and I was stuck in the middle of, mediating from 1,700 miles away. The final straw came for me when I asked Daisy a business question and she suggested I find her on Facebook and friend her. She never answered my question.

When I wrote Luigi, he did not write me back. He immediately called me instead. He wanted to know if I thought of Daisy's performance thus far. Was this normal for her? Actually no. I explained I was buying my plane ticket that day to go up to Birmingham (I was, actually) and he replied, "Let me save you some air fare. Tell me what you know." And then the dam broke. And I did tell him what I knew. And then some.

Daisy no longer works for Luigi. I haven't heard from her since. And I didn't find her on Facebook.

Spring is Here!

 

We will return to your regularly scheduled blog shortly. 

Beware of the Ides of March and the Rest of the %&$#^* Month Too

Typically springtime is my favorite time of year. However, this particular March has just stunk. On the private side, Polly had some weird ailment that kept me hopping from doctor to doctor for a couple of weeks (she's fine now). In addition, I have been working a zillion hours--which will hopefully pan out in a month or two, and the two property management companies I have hired in Birmingham are driving me to stroke out on a daily basis.

Mario's minion, Bruce--who was more than happy to answer my calls and e-mails when he first learned he had lost my gazillion minus one (the one he currently manages) homes earlier this year, got over himself and stopped talking to me at an inopportune moment. He originally sent me a punch list of things the tenant was asking to be fixed. My reply was simply: how many of the particular issues on this list are you asking me to fix that the tenant may have caused?

And, because Bruce tends to be conflict avoidant, he didn't get back to me--even after four e-mails. After a while, I contacted Mario and suggested Bruce must be on vacation, because I am certain he would have answered my question right away, given Bruce is so um... awesome. I let Mario know I was just astonished he hadn't replied to my simple request: was the faucet leaking before the tenant moved in or did the tenant break the faucet and expect me to fix it? After Mario didn't respond for a week either, I started writing more lengthy e-mails and using larger words, hoping to convey my frustration at their silence.

Finally Mario gave in and suggested we needed to have a phone conference. That is scheduled for sometime next week. I really am not sure why we need a pow-wow over a stupid punch list, but whatever. I can roll my eyes just as easily on the phone as I can at an e-mail. All I want to know is was the faucet leaking, was the shower door broken and was the fireplace cleaned before the tenant moved in?

Mario's drama just pales in comparison to Luigi. In his defense, Luigi manages more of my homes (a lot more) and has more hassles. I suspect he is cursing my name for bringing over my homes and all the subsequent baggage associated with these properties. That "baggage" is a blog or five for another time.

At one point a few weeks ago, Luigi sent me a note saying he was sorry to send me another work order. I wrote back: "What a coincidence! I am sorry to receive this." Which I was. Very sorry. The dishwasher had a slow leak that ruined the kitchen floor and all of the cabinets.

Last week, in addition to the popcorn ceiling request, he sent me an invoice for a gas leak I had at my property. He sweetly suggested I look over the invoice and explained he would call in a few minutes to "explain everything." I looked at the total and wrote him back, telling him to just call 911 and just send over a defibrillator.

I have property management companies so I don't have to deal with this stuff. For the most part, I am relieved I am not getting the tenant calls, but I am very tired of writing checks. 

Free Popcorn

To give you an idea what my Monday was like, my first phone battery was dead by 11:47 a.m. and my second one by 4:52 p.m. Not including a of a pal of Polly's who called no less than 16 times in a half hour, my phone rang on average ever minute starting at 7 a.m. (and it was an Alabama call) and didn't stop until I turned it off after 6 p.m. Undercapitalized issues be damned. I was done for the day.

In addition to my phone, my texts sported messages from really awesome people like Bliz to some family members, whom I pretty much ignored, who had nothing better to do than contact me about self-induced drama out of my control. It also had more than 48 texts (I counted) from people who were not Bliz or related by blood.

When I finally sat down to process my e-mails (because you know if people can't wait the approximate four minutes for me to return their call and text, by golly! they need to e-mail me too!), I had an e-mail from Luigi. I wasn't in good humor, though I hoped I kept it professional enough. Apparently my Section 8 tenant called in a work order asking to have a new shower door hung--though I don't know why--and, (wait for it....) she wanted to know when I was removing the popcorn ceilings from "her" home.

I have no intention to have the popcorn ceilings scraped. The home in question isn't in a terrible area, but it isn't in the top-notch community either. The homes were built in a time when popcorn ceilings were all the rage. Though I think popcorn ceilings are unsightly under any circumstances, I  think someone who can't afford the rent and is living in my home off of the good tax payers can either live with with popcorn ceilings or move out. I am good either way.

And let me also just explain, this particular tenant by the way, has a 2011 Suburban and a 2012 Escalade. When I toured her home a couple of years ago, I found furnishings nicer than mine (which isn't hard to achieve actually) and nicer and much newer appliances. And I should point out, Section 8 pays pittance, so I am not exactly cash-flowing a reasonable sum here.

I haven't heard back from Luigi about my take on this tenant's particular request, but I am guessing I was able to convey enough disapproval to the idea in one e-mail that he probably doesn't need to respond. 

Keeping My World in Perspective

Just found this. I love this line: " 'He is making a big to-do because he is being evicted'." Airbnb is a vacation rental site.

Airbnb renter returns to ‘overweight orgy’

By Frank Rosario, C.J. Sullivan and Joe Tacopino

A comedian under the impression he had rented out his posh Chelsea pad to a man with family in town for a wedding returned home to a wild orgy, he said.

Ari Teman, 31, claimed he left his apartment keys with David Carter, 32, on Friday night and stepped out for dinner before leaving town.

When he returned to the building to grab his luggage, a rowdy sex party featuring “Big Beautiful Women” was in the process of being shut down by building management.

“This was just so bizarre,” said Teman, who had rented his apartment via the website Airbnb.

“The worst part of the Internet right there was in my apartment.”

“There were all sorts of people walking out of my apartment and people coming in from the back yard. It was a huge mess.”

Teman said his apartment was trashed by a group of nearly nude, overweight people. After the shindig was broken up, Carter was a nervous wreck in the lobby, Teman says.

“This guy had a look of horror on his face,” Teman said. “He didn’t expect to see me for a few days. He said, ‘They shut us down, man, they’re shutting it down.’ ”

Carter, however, claims he just had a small, quiet get-together and that Teman was overreacting.
“I had six people, friends and family,” Carter told The Post. “He is making a big to-do because he is being evicted.”

Carter posted on Airbnb that he wanted a place for his in-laws to stay while they were in town for a wedding, Teman claims. “He had a verified account and he seemed legit,” Teman said. “He had three positive reviews and so I approved the deal.”

When Teman later searched Carter’s phone number on the Internet, he found the raunchy soiree involving plus-size women advertised online as “Turn Up Part 2: The Pantie Raid.”

One person even blasted out Teman’s Seventh Avenue address in a tweet for an “XXX FREAK FEST.”
Carter denied he had anything to do with the ad. “There was no address on the advertisement and I had nothing to with it,” he said.

The professional comedian called police, but no charges were filed. He now claims he wants to move.
“I just don’t want to touch anything in there,” he said. “I threw sheets all over everything.”

Carter claimed that a little partying never hurt anyone.

“I was not arrested. I did nothing wrong,” he said.

Airbnb said in a statement that Carter has been permanently removed from its website and that it will work with law enforcement to get the situation resolved.

A Happy Landlord Story

Mr. Partner is refinancing two homes. I should mention that I have been asking Mr. Partner to do this for years. A few months ago he looked at the interest rate of one of his mortgages and decided it might be worth pursing. This is a home we bought in 2005 and things were a bit different then.

Fast forward to about three weeks ago. The underwriter of these mortgages asked for some very common items, leases, bank statements, tax returns and the like. Most of this paper is kept at my house so I needed to provide it. Which, I did. However, two of the leases: one for Ms. Angie's home and one for Mrs. Sherwood's home have expired. Like years ago. I was absolutely floored when I realized Mrs. Sherwood has been living in this home since 2007.

Anyway, because they are such awesome tenants and rarely call me before 6 a.m. (though Ms. Angie did text me at 4 a.m. my time last week), I haven't really done anything with their leases. This arrangement has worked out fine for all parties involved until the underwriter got hold of everything two weeks ago. At that time she wanted explanations as to why I don't have current leases. She also wanted something in writing showing they were still living in the homes and paying the rent.

Mr. Partner asked me to handle this two weeks ago. I got sidetracked by some personal issues in our lives and completely forgot. However, the ever-diligent Mr. Partner did not forget and reminded me 10 p.m. Sunday night when he told me he needed it first-thing Monday. 

Monday morning I left frantic messages for both Ms. Angie and Mrs. Sherwood telling them I needed their help, would they please check their e-mail, sign the letter I wrote for them and get it back to me in record time. I also pathetically explained to their voice mail that: 1) this needed to happen immediately--just in case I hadn't stressed that enough and 2) there was nothing wrong and this would not affect them.

Both of them obliged without batting an eye. In fact, Ms. Angie went so far to call me and I believe she may have asked if I was ok and to tell me the letter she needed to sign should be back in my inbox at that moment. And, if I needed anything else, just say the word. Or at least that is what I gleaned through her extremely thick drawl. Mrs. Sherwood didn't say anything at all. The letter just appeared in my inbox fifteen minutes later. However I did text her and say thank you. I got a quick reply, "You are very welcome." 

And this is why these two tenants are not in property management.

My Money is on the Leprechaun

I finally had time to process what I wanted to do with the Grayson Valley house. To back up a teensy bit: in 2007, we bought this house with business partner Jack. Marty Sunshine and I put in half of the down payment. Jack put down the other half. Jack bailed on us about a year ago, not asking for his down payment back or his half of the equity. Nothing. Nada. This bothers me in some ways, but that is for another blog.

Last year (after Jack bailed and we found out he had not managed this place in any way, shape or form and it now had a LOT of deferred maintenance), Marty and I took care of the pressing issues and sunk part of our tax return into making the place the rock star of a house it deserves to be. For that, we were rewarded with top-of-the-market rent. We also refinanced and are now cash flowing a very nice sum every month (Jack refused to refinance). So, the house is now doing what we intended it to do all along. 

However, for some reason our tenant wants to buy the house. There was never a conversation with us about selling the home and the first I heard about this was at the end of January when rent was already a month late. So, I don't know if the tenant was told by Kirby's folks last year that we would sell her the home. I don't know if a leprechaun riding on a blue and orange water buffalo came to her in a dream and said she should purchase this home. But now she is hell-bent on buying this place and won't let up.

I am really not ready to sell. I like this house. It is in an appreciating neighborhood. Though we bought at the wrong time, it it worth slightly more than we paid for it. This morning I sent Luigi and his Broker, Ray, an e-mail. I gave them my price--which wasn't realistic. I said if I were to sell it right now, the sale would be as-is, we use Attorney Flip and everyone pays their own costs. I said these terms were not negotiable.

Though that should turn off any reasonable person, I don't want to loose the tenant if they aren't willing to hand over what in March of 2014 would be considered an obscene amount for this home. Crazy as she has proven may be, she and her husband have good jobs and a vacant home costs me money. So, I offered if the tenant was not in a position to buy it for my price, if they would like to renew when their lease is up, I will offer $200 off their first month's rent as long as someone can do a walk-through on the property and make sure it is still in great condition. The $200 I would be loosing (which is still less than what I am cash flowing) is a small price to pay not to have a vacancy and turn over the property.

She's Baaacccckkkkkk

Jack--remember him?--has e-mailed me about four times in the past two months. Apparently there is some real estate agent in Birmingham who has a client who wants to buy my Grayson Valley home. The agent had gotten Jack's number because Jack had sold us the home (he was also part owner until he bailed on us last year, but I digress). Would I please just call this guy and get him off Jack's back?

The house in question is very nice. It is red brick, on a golf course and is currently rented by that crazy lady who did not want to pay me rent for two months and managed to find my phone number, call me at work and had me chew her out for being a thief. It is one of my favorites, and though I am still puzzled why Jack jumped ship, Marty and I are doing well with it right now.

I did call the agent Tuesday. Apparently this woman has been calling him non-stop for several months and saying she wanted to buy this home.

"Why this home?" I asked the agent.

He did not know.

"I have a tenant in place right now. It isn't exactly for sale."

It was a rental? That was news to him.

"Is it possible it is the tenant calling you?" I asked.

"No, this woman is black." the agent replied.

Let's all pause, roll our eyes and take a trip back to pre-1964 Birmingham. Shall we? 

"Though I have only spoken to her once, I believe my tenant may be African American," I said. 

The agent was nonplussed. Looking up her name, he told me her unusual first name was the same as my tenant's unusual first name. The last names were different, but my tenant's middle initial is the same as what this agent had down as a last name. She also in the same type of business as that of my current tenant.

"Is it possible my tenant is calling you asking you and asking you to represent her?"

The agent didn't concede, but thought perhaps he might want a longer conversation with her tomorrow to see what her intentions are. My guess is it is the same sociopath who is up to some different weirdness.

The Chalkville House

Last week I had a spat with Daisy about my home in Chalkville. It had been vacant since Mr. and Mrs. Green left months ago. Daisy had finally gotten in rented at more than $230 less than I have ever rented it for in all the years I have had this home. Also, she took a Section 8 tenant.

As we all know, there is nothing in this world as desperate as a landlord with a vacant home. And, given I wanted to have this home rented so badly, Daisy was floored by my lack of gratitude. When I explained to her that I didn't want a Section 8 tenant--especially one who would be living there for so little, Daisy's reply was that next year when the tenant moves out I can re-rent it for "my" price. And besides! Luigi's fees are less than Kirby's so, the difference should be negligible.

First, Section 8 tenants don't move. They stay. If the tenant does leave for some strange reason, I have yet to see a Section 8 home that was in good shape once the tenant left. I currently have a Section 8 home right now, and I am here to tell you, I don't expect it to be stellar when I get it back. It was a different time when I agreed to this. For now, it works. But I am not happy about it.

The government doesn't pay much for Section 8 tenants, but the catch is they do pay. Every month a check comes in to the owners. I don't hear excuses like the light bill was too high and that is why I am not seeing a drop of rent. What HUD does pay depends upon the tenant's voucher, which is based on several factors including if the tenant has a job, the number of kids and other variables. In return, the Section 8 authority wants an inspection once a year to prove I am not a slum lord. They will insist upon minor repairs that most of us can just live with when push comes to shove.

Daisy's last comment was probably the most inconsiderate and gave a clear pictures of what she thought of my money. This house is one Marty Sunshine and I own without a partner. It had never been in property management before so there had never been property management fees prior. But more important, it shouldn't matter. What I pay in property management fees is not her business and should not be taken into account, nor should my concerns be dismissed because "I am paying less" for property management fees.

When I asked Daisy to contact me to discuss how I could get out of having this tenant, she didn't return my calls. Last Wednesday afternoon, I had a stroke of brilliance. I called Luigi and asked for a reality check. Could I get more money for this home or was this new tenant--even on Section 8--paying market rate for rent. Luigi looked over the home. His assistant Amy looked over the home. Both told me it was one of the nicest in the area (I thought as much) except that the exterior needs to be desperately painted (I thought as much too). However, they saw no reason why I had to settle for so little money.

Before the Section 8 tenant moved in, I asked them to put the home back on the market and withdraw the tenant's application. I was willing to gamble on a higher rent than a sure thing. I held my breath, knowing I was down to the dregs in my bank account to keep supporting this home.

Today Luigi called me. He had two tenants fighting over the place. Neither had pets. Both sets of tenants had ties to the area, were stable in their jobs and could afford to pay their own way. It was a happy problem. The tenant who reigned victorious has already put in their deposit and is moving in next week. And I am getting for rent what I expected to get all along.

Dazzling With Brilliance

In an effort to keep Mr. Partner off my back appease Mr. Partner's diligent pursuit of information, I am working with Bliz to get the taxes done. Mr. Partner doesn't just want his K-1 statement that the IRS lovingly requires and Diamond Jim will once again prepare. He wants bank statements, a 2014 P&L statement and all sorts of other gobbledygook to clog his inbox.

Though he is really a great person (really!) I actually suspect he can't actually read financial statements.  This theory has been postulated by me after Mr. Partner has repeatedly asked over the past ten years basic questions any business owner should know. Like what is a P&L statement? And, I recommend not getting him started what a balance sheet happens to be and why owner's equity is a negative number.

Anyway, this weekend I sent Mr. Partner the first installment of documents that he will either oooh and ahhh over, ask Marty Sunshine a million questions about (he wouldn't dare ask me) and Marty will patiently explain again that whatever number he sees in the bank account does not equal how much money we have to our name (we pay bills with that money). Or, hopefully he will just be so overwhelmed with my e-mails, as I tend to send them in strategically timed batches, that he will set it all aside and forget about them.

____________________

And speaking of dazzling, might you remember, last December Bliz, on my behalf (I was traveling through the swampland at the time), wrote a letter to Mario saying my gazillion homes Kirby was managing weren't going to Mario. They were going to the new property management company.

Ever since then, Mario has had his A-Game on. If I ask a question, I get an answer within 24 hours. If he and his minions had shown this level of service at all in the past two years, I might have made other choices. 

Does Amazon Sell Babble Fish?

One of the hardest issues I have had about doing business in the South is that the folks there continuously complain about my thick Northern accent.

Yes, really.

Actually, if truth be told, I have an even harder time with their Southern drawl. I bring this up because the language barrier darn near caused me a major stroke after a long list of other minor strokes this week.

It turns out, I don't have a trashed house. I have a house with trash in it. Lots and lots of trash. Not that it makes me any happier to know this. But my house isn't destroyed. It just needs to be cleaned up. There are thousands of dollars in difference between a "trashed house" and a "house with trash in it."

Saving the Cell Minutes

My week ended with the following e-mail. Amy is another leasing agent at the new property management company's office. To his credit, Luigi e-mailed me back and gave me a partial solution. But I suspect I won't know more about my trashed house until Monday.

Hi Luigi,

I spoke with Ms. Amy and asked her to have you call me. I have changed my mind. Neither of us need to use our cell minutes on me ranting to you like a crazed lunatic and you saying whatever it is you normally say to furiously raving owners.

I am sure you are working this on your end. When you have solutions or a future game plan for this home, please be in touch.

Thanks,

Mrs. Landlord

Sucker Punched

I found out Thursday I have a home that has been trashed. My favorite home. Investors aren't supposed to have favorites, but I do.

I am too numb to be angry. It is compounded on to a long list of garbage that has defined my Alabama experience this month. I intend to blog more about it. But right now it might become legal and I know it is best to wait and let time soothe me.

I still don't know when I am flying to Birmingham. I was hoping I could put it off until the summer--which would be more ideal than going in a few weeks. But now I am not so sure. Experience tells me this will all work out and I won't have to raise hell and make promises that involve the Department of Real Estate and the Alabama Attorney General's Office. Or, I should say that wisdom tells me how sane people would handle this. I am hoping the person I have cleaning this up is handling it my way. If not, I may no longer be numb.

The Great Calera Flood Aftermath

They house on Hysteria Lane in Calera now has a kitchen sink and dry walls and floors. The plumber is going on an around the world cruise. The tenant is still pissy that I am not compensating her for her inconvenience (that she caused. Did I mention she caused this and could have prevented it?). Insurance and I have squared up.

And, because I had pipes in four different homes burst, there is a new clause in all of my future leases from here to the end of time--and I don't care where you live, fee free to steal the concept. The wording is still a bit off. I have no idea if it will hold up in court, but I am hoping it will at least open up a few eyes. "Tenants are responsible for any damage done to the home caused by a water pipe breaking because of cold weather."

Great News

It appears my tenant in Grayson Valley has paid in full. And even better! She hasn't called me.

According to Luigi, she is now asking if she can buy the house. I don't know if I want to sell the house right now. It is worth about what we paid for it. It cash flows pretty well. But if we don't sell it, it will all likelihood be vacant when this crazy tenant's lease is up.

I Speak For Real Estate Professionals Everywhere When I Say...

Please know, Zillow is not always accurate. It is a Web site that gives false expectations to buyers and sellers and make agents look like idiots--even though we are usually correct and Zillow rarely is.

I am amazed at the number of people--people who actually talk with me for hours on end--who tell me I am credible until I tell them what their home is worth or what they should pay for the home they wish to buy. Then I am a half-baked snake oil saleswoman and know utterly nothing about the real estate industry.

Why? Because some anonymous Web site says otherwise.

And how was your day? 

Sociopaths Rn't Us

It is 24 hours later, cooler heads are prevailing and I have to tell you, my dear three readers, I feel as justified today in telling off that woman as I did yesterday. I am not a lose-my-cool with perfect strangers kind of girl. Generally I like to please and make everyone happy. But make no mistake: I have a backbone. That said, for the most part, I don't start phone conversations with perfect strangers by biting their heads off. It just isn't dignified.

After she talked to me, apparently the tenant called Daisy three times last night as well. She never mentioned once to Daisy that she called me in the afternoon. I find that odd. Daisy and I talked about it for a bit. The tenant is up to some weird game or has some strong need to be right or she feels, after living in my home hassle-free for several months, somehow justified in withholding the rent. None of those are logical, sane actions under the circumstances.

The biggest reason I feel like the tenant is playing a game is because my name is not on the title of the home--and the tenant looked up the title to find Marty Sunshine's name. That's how this whole thing started. She wanted to buy the home and found out that Daisy didn't own it, and mind you, Daisy never claimed to. And just for the record, there has been no conversation with us about selling this home.

However, when the tenant and I talked yesterday she never once asked who Marty Sunshine was, if I was married to him or what relationship I might have to him. She brought up a lot of extraneous fluff, but if her real issue--the one she has been bitching about for weeks to anyone in Birmingham who would listen--is that she wants to verify who owns the house before she pays us any more money, a sane thinking person would draw the conclusion that this one factor should have mattered to her if she was taking the time to call me. Yesterday it didn't matter to her.

Daisy and I have a bet going that this woman is skipping this weekend. I predict a Uhaul in her driveway tomorrow morning. I won't know if I am right until next week some time. I did tell Daisy to just start the eviction ball rolling. If they pay up (including late fees, process server fees, etc.), that's awesome. Then they can stay. If not, it is probably best to get rid of this sociopath sooner than later anyway.

Sins of Tenants' Past

To give you an idea of how things are going, I just found out today is Thursday and a client gently reminded me tomorrow is Valentine's Day and no, they would not be interested in looking for homes tomorrow if that was ok with me. And didn't I have someone special to share Valentine's Day with instead of with them?

I got home at 7:15 tonight, which is the earliest I have been home all week. Today I was only gone 12 and a half hours--a short day. I have lost four pounds this week alone because my car is not equipped with a refrigerator, though I have been carrying an ice chest of water in there for the past week. The kids' homeschooling lessons are consisting of art projects, Netflix documentaries and Minecraft. I am not whining. I am sharing with you a glimpse into my life.

Why is this going on? Because some woman in my home in Grayson Valley has decided she isn't going to pay the rent because the property management company doesn't own the house. Therefore as far as she is concerned, she doesn't have to pay (It still sounds stupid no matter how many times I say it). Though I thought this was resolved yesterday, it doesn't change two realities: 1) the mortgage is still due and 2) I haven't seen the rent money.

And, I am guessing after today I won't. You see, while slipping away for a sandwich today, my cell phone rang. It was my office and I quickly answered it figuring I was being asked some sort of innocuous question. Instead, the woman on the other end started asking me if I actually owed the home in Grayson Valley. After a few intrusive questions I refused to answer, I asked her who she was. She gave me her first name and then started asking me more intrusive questions. Finally, putting two and two together, I realized she was the tenant.

Her main question--which she asked and I answered no less than seven times--was did I own the house. Yes I do.

I countered every single time with where is the rent?

To be honest, I was unnerved that this stranger had found me and my place of employment. She knew who I was and where I worked. I realize that one can Google just about anything, but she made no apologies for doing so.

Instead, she kept saying she was unaware the property management company had changed hands. I pointed out I knew for a fact she had talked to Mario early on and he told her to call Daisy. And by the way, I knew she talked to Daisy too. She was visibly startled when I shared this with her. And by the way, where was my rent money?

She told me nobody had told her where to send the rent. I countered back with yes they did. And she had been told several times and she had been given five copies of her lease in the past few weeks. And furthermore, why didn't this become such an issue six weeks into the new property management changeover? And if it was really that big a deal, why didn't she address it the day her rent was originally due--which was January 1st.

She asked again if I was the owner. I told her I knew she checked the tax records because she had told Daisy she had done so. I also pointed out I had already answered that question, so pay or pack her stuff because she was a thief.

She said that being a "thief" was my "interpretation" and she was coming to me in "good faith." I explained it will be the court's interpretation too and she might want to look up the definition of "good faith" because she was two month's behind on the rent.

This went on for way too long with me getting angrier and angrier, not just at her but all of the others who have played this game before her. As she blathered on, the sins of tenant's past danced in my head, sounding just like this nutjob who was innocently suggesting her inability to pay rent is somehow my fault. I know this playbook.

This woman's twist to an old shtick was to go so far as to seek me out, intruding on my life. She violated my boundaries. I have enough experience to know this relationship will never get better. She needs to go.

As soon as she accused me of being belligerent, suggesting she was perfectly normal--given she had just taken time to find a perfect stranger 1,700 miles away at her job--I seethed, "You are a thief. You are the reason I am away from my family today. Pay up or get out of my house. I will sue you. I will garnish your wages and your husband's wages. I will evict you and put a judgement on your credit." And I hung up on her.

Though no longer furious, I am still shaken from such an intrusion. I honestly cannot tell you what this woman really wants from me. I called Daisy afterwards to let her know this woman contacted me and to call the lawyer. Let's get this party started. Apparently Daisy had hung up on her earlier in the day. My guess is she is moving and now she will blame it on me being unreasonable. That's ok. I am better off with her gone than any other nuttiness she might fling my way.

"Mean" Is My Middle Name

It appears the folks in Grayson Valley have decided they want to stay. This came about when a process server kindly showed up at the Mrs.' job and gave her a special letter from me saying, "Pay up or get your stuff out of my house."

Though there are people who felt having this notice served at her work was mean, let me remind you: 1) I am an Aries. 2) This woman owes me rent and I knew where it would be convenient to find her. After all, I have to pay the process server, why make him work extra-hard. And by the way, the tenants are reimbursing me for the process server fee too. So, I just saved the tenant an extra $100 for not having the process server work nights and weekends. In essence, they should be thanking me.

I am told that the tenant was utterly shocked that I would take such extreme measures and after all, wasn't this a minor misunderstanding? The "misunderstanding" being she was refusing to pay the rent because Daisy's company did not own my home. They were only managing it and hence, she didn't owe them money. To her credit, the tenant apologized for her portion of this issue and hoped we could make amends. I believe she was waiting for similar words from Daisy, but I doubt they came--at least they shouldn't have.

All of this is allegedly going to be resolved by February 19 and she will be current by then. I am proceeding like I am evicting and calling an attorney on February 20th if she hasn't paid up.

Consider THIS Your Notice

The reason I have property management companies taking care of my gazillion rental homes is so that I don't have to be intimately involved. DO YOU HEAR THAT MARIO, DAISY AND LUIGI????

Apparently they didn't.

This week has been one of those weeks that make me question why I give a percentage of my rental income to these folks. In fact, in the past four days, the drama has gotten intense enough that even Marty Sunshine is taking it upon himself to randomly say things like, "You know, you probably do need to book a ticket..." At which point I give him a dirty look and then my phone lights up with texts and phone calls from Birmingham and I provide some colorful commentary to my buzzing phone.

One of the biggest (but not THE biggest) issues this week has been the flood in my home in Calera that Mario and his minion, Bruce, manage. The flood was caused by a tenant who did not open the tap as the pipes thawed, and therefore the pipes exploded. I should also say the tenant in question teaches middle school science. Surely the science common core covers water expanding and contracting.

The tenant is also furious with me for not giving her money for her inconvenience. An inconvenience she caused. Apparently she has had a lot to say about me, my lineage and abilities to manage my home based on the fact I am not forking over a sizable amount of loot to make her forget that he kitchen is in disarray. Mind you, she has water now. But apparently the cabinetry is away from the wall and everything needs to dry out.

Did I mention the tenant caused this issue? Please don't forget that.

Just like everything in the South, the insurance adjuster is taking his sweet time getting this resolved. Today (Thursday), a week after the Great Calera Flood began, I heard from from him and then ten minutes later, I heard from Bruce. Apparently Bruce didn't have time today to meet the adjuster out at the house but he wanted me to know that it wasn't a problem. He would just have the tenant meet the adjuster instead. "Its all covered." Bruce said happily.

I wasn't impressed. "Just so I understand this, you are letting the tenant--who is extremely upset with me--meet the insurance adjuster without a chaperone?" I asked Bruce. "Does that sound like a good plan to you?"

Bruce,who really does seem like a nice guy, even if he is always acting afraid of me, stammered for a moment, assuring me it was fine. "What could go wrong?" He asked.

Plenty. How do we know the tenant will tell the truth? How do we know the tenant won't take it upon herself to tell the adjuster that something caused by the flood was "always broken"? And I gave Bruce a few other scenarios that came to mind. In the end, Bruce was back-pedaling, suggesting the adjuster probably could just wait until next week to see the house when Bruce was available.

"You know, when I come to town I will want to see the house," I said.

And that's when Bruce lost it. Going a full octave higher, he said, "You are coming to town?! You have to give me notice when you are doing that!"

As sweetly as possible, I explained to Bruce that I come to town often, and it really is no big deal. And of course I will let him know when I come.

However, Bruce could not be calmed. He continued to stammer about how I had to give him notice. And I couldn't "just show up," and went along in this vein for more of my cell minutes than I expected. To get the poor guy off the phone, I did promise him I would let him know, and I also told him I had no intention of meeting the tenant--who apparently hates me anyway. He agreed it would be a good idea not to let on I own the home when we inspect it. But, he added with all the authority he could muster in the end, "you must give us notice."

Loopholes

Friday morning I was questioning why it was traditional to wait until later in the day to drink. Who came up with that rule anyway?

On top of the Great Calera Flood, I also had another doosy in North Birmingham. Apparently the tenant--who had been happily living at my home in Grayson Valley for more than 10 months--snapped.

You see, she has not paid January's rent. Nor will she agree to pay January's rent. And though she had paid her rent for the past ten months to a property management company, that wasn't going to happen any longer. According to the tenant, she had looked up the tax records, found Marty Sunshine's name as the owner of the home and decided that since Daisy's company wasn't named "Marty Sunshine" she summarily decided she no longer had to pay rent.

I will pause for a moment while you let that sink in, because it sounds stupider to me every time I see it too.

My first thought was simply the tenant doesn't have the rent. After all, she has been paying rent to a property management company since she moved in. Somehow Mario got involved this week and told her she needed to pay Daisy's company and yes, she owed the money.

The tenant also bawled out Daisy about the property management changeover a month earlier (which didn't bother the tenant until Friday) and complained about how nobody kept her in the loop (not true--she received about five letters from various parties--at least two of them were certified letters). Mind you she did this on the 31st day of the month, when rent is due on the first. So, essentially she is 30 days late and now squawking.

Nope, she doesn't have the rent.


There seems to be no convincing her that rent is owed and she has a contract--just like she did when she moved in. Daisy wanted to know what course of action I wanted to take. And mind you, Friday I was dealing with day four of a flu and insurance adjusters. My patience at an all-time low, I told Daisy exactly what she could do. If the rent was not in her office by Monday, tell them they have till Saturday to get their belongings out of I will evict. And then start the process on Tuesday morning anyway. That will make them move a lot faster on Saturday. And oh yes, please serve the tenant at her office.

I had years of crazy stuff like this. In fact, these crazies are the reason I have property management companies. I am not about to put up with this any longer than I have to. I know the game and I am not going to play.

Blame Game

For you old timers, you may remember Facebook Debbie, an old acquaintance who posts every drama in her life from her running out of underwear because she hadn't done laundry, to posting how she was actually folding laundry. And of course, there were usually 537 other posts during the day.

She caught my eye--and subsequently made this blog--because she had a flood in the bathroom of her rental home. The landlord took care of it as quickly as humanly possible, but the work was slow. It lasted three days. She didn't have renter's insurance and many of her belongings (which weren't neatly put away) were water-damaged. She also managed do detect "toxic mold." In Arizona. In August. Neither is likely. Her saga played on for months with her finally suing--and loosing to--her former landlord for damages. She said the judge was blinded by the landlord's wealth and a few other absurdities that ended up in this blog.

I am only reminding you of this story, because I fear, dear three readers, I am about to live Facebook Debbie's Landlord's nightmare.

You see, Friday morning a pipe at my tenant's home burst. It burst because the tenant didn't turn on the tap so as the frozen pipe was thawing, the pressure inside the pipe could be released. Hence, more than 100 gallons of water flooded into my home and has done more damage than I can humanly imagine. I will eventually get pictures I am sure.

By mid-morning, a plumber was on the premises. Bruce, Mario's minion was also there. And by noon, the insurance company had been notified of the damage, a water restoration company had been called and all was moving forward as quickly as possible. Bruce and I had developed a game plan to effectively tackle this unfortunate accident.

However, it will be later today (Saturday) before the tenant has water. It will be several days before the house dries out and is back in ship-shape. It is up to the adjuster to decide if I need a new cabinet and carpet. I don't know. It depends how things dry out. And, that will obviously be the first step.

Also by mid-morning, the tenant had already called another of Mario's minions and asked what I was going to do to compensate the her. When Bruce told me this, I think he was expecting some sort of answer that would make everyone--especially which ever one of Mario's minions gets to be the messenger--feel better.

My answer was simply: I know this is a major inconvenience. And, I am working to restore this as quickly as possible. I am terribly sorry if the tenant is misplaced for a night. It is very unfortunate. The difference between the tenant owning the home and the tenant renting the home is who is going to pay the bill for this unfortunate occurrence. If the tenant owned the home, she would also be displaced and inconvenienced just long as if she rents it. So therefore, no. I will not give her any sort of money for her troubles. In fact, if she had just opened the tap the night before, she wouldn't have any troubles. And neither would I. And dare I say, I believe she owes me for my inconvenience. She caused this.

I somehow don't think anyone on Mario's staff will add that last part. But I wish they would.