That Monday

The O'le Accidental Business has been kinda busy lately. I would like to tell how productive this business has been, but as true in life, "busy" has nothing to do with productive.

Here's the back story: I had a home in property management. The tenant moved out. A former tenant contacted me and wanted to rent it. This was someone I know and trust. So, a couple of Fridays ago, I took the house out of property management. The following Sunday morning, I heard from Ms. Former Tenant: she wasn't moving in. So, I now have a vacant home that is out of property management.

Nevertheless, Carolsue came forward and instantly found me a potential renter. Bernice was looking to rent a home in Carolsue's neighborhood, but instead, Carolsue told her about my charming home and took her over to see it.

It turns out, Bernice loved my little home. She wanted to move in by Wednesday. And would I consider painting? And who was fixing the broken window? This is all Sunday evening.

So, that evening, I got on the computer and send a lovely note over to Luigi and Willy telling them yes, please put the home back in property management. Yes, I promise not to change my mind again. And by the way, Bernice will be calling first thing Monday morning to fill out an application. This, by the way, was a serious imposition on my part. I knew it when I did it, and hoped for the best.

I waited until Monday morning to send Flunky a note, sweetly asking him if he would pretty please fix the broken window, change the locks and paint the bathroom. And could he do it immediately, as the potential tenant was moving in on Wednesday.

As you three readers know, my relationship with Flunky the Maintenance Asshat is tenuous at best. And apparently word got back to him that I ratted him out to Luigi a few weeks ago. This probably was the reason--on a Monday morning, at a property management company, with all sorts of maintenance issues coming in from the weekend that should supersede a broken window and new locks--Flunky was so darn gracious with the "Yes, Ma'am, I would be (cough-cough) happy to help you," e-mails he sent me in reply.

Meanwhile, Carolsue was taking care of some other maintenance at the home for me. So, she was on hand to witness everything, when suddenly (and unbeknownst to me) Bernice, instead of high-tailing to the property management company to fill out an application, just decided to pop by and check on "her" home. All I knew was that I was getting texts in 20 minute intervals that said something alone the lines of "Will you fix this?" or "I haven't heard from the property management company yet." and other such nonsense. And, given it was a Monday, and I work for a Property Management company, I really didn't have the time or patience to continue to deal with Bernice.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I sent everyone who handles leasing as well as Luigi himself a note saying "Please, someone call her! She wants to move in by Wednesday." Finally someone reached out to Bernice and scheduled her to come in Tuesday morning to fill out an application.

To be continued

Round And Round

When we last left the continuing saga of loosing our home in Pinson (the one on the two acres with a pond and wrap around porch), we were in the process of working with the first mortgage company on a deed in lieu of foreclosure. The second mortgage company however continues to call at all hours of the day and ask for my social security number. Which I refuse to give them (Hey! They called me. They should have my social security number.)

A few weeks ago, our liaison at the first mortgage company, Jonathan, wrote me and asked if I could meet the appraiser out at the house to let him in. I found this odd because he just replied to an earlier e-mail I had sent saying, "I don't live in Alabama and you can have the appraiser get the keys from the property management company. And here is their contact information." But whatever, somewhere in me saying "I don't live in Alabama" it was interpreted as "I am certainly available to drop everything and hop on over and let some dude into this home at his convenience" (who could probably enter through the broken window or where the garage door used to be--thank you former tenants).

Also as part of Jonathan's note last week he asked if I could send him the articles of incorporation for an LLC that hasn't had their name on this deed in 8 years. When I asked why, Jonathan just replied because that LLC's name is on the deed. I went to the Jefferson County Tax Records. No it isn't. But I didn't feel like arguing with Jonathan.

Instead, I just replied to Jonathan's e-mail with an answer to both: Get the keys from the property management company. And here is their contact information (again) and would you like us to change the deed back into Marty Sunshine's and my name to make everything smoother? And then I waited. And waited. And waited.

Today I got another e-mail from Jonathan. What do you know? It was a reply from my last e-mail where I asked him about the name change. But just to be sure I would think him a bit of a buffoon, he asked what was going on with us changing the name on the deed? He also told me "we" couldn't move forward with this until this issue was resolved.

And by the way, when could I get out to the house and let the appraiser in?

Just In Time

This past week, Flunky the Maintenance Asshat pestered me to approve the quote he gave me to have the watershed issue abated at my Fultondale home. I ignored him for several days, happily deleting his texts and filing his unread e-mails. Incidentally, the quote was significantly less, and much more reasonable, than his first "this is the only one you are going to get from me and leave me the heck alone you stupid woman who knows nothing," quote he presented me months ago.

One of the legitimate reasons I did not approve the quote right away was that I wanted Mr. 114 to take a peek and give me his professional opinion. After all, Mr. 114 does this kind of thing for a living. In this case, Mr. 114 happens to live on the smack-dab other side of town and it just isn't worth it to him to take on this job (though I begged). Eventually he graciously got back in touch with me. And yes, he gave me his blessing.

My real concern is my tenants. They have been there since 2010. They love the area. In fact Mr. Fultondale grew up in the neighborhood and fondly tells me every time I inspect the home how he used to camp in the woods approximately where my home is currently situated. The tenants keep the house in cherry condition. And through this entire ordeal, it never strayed from my mind that these folks are the unfortunate pawns in this game.

It wasn't that I wanted to hurt them. My tenants don't deserve to be put in the middle of a battle of wills between Flunky and my wallet. Nor did they sign up for a home where their basement was uninhabitable. And, if Flunky had provided me with a reasonable quote back in June, or even a second quote when I asked for it in July, there wouldn't have been a situation where the tenants couldn't use the basement for months on end.

While all this was going on, I was also keenly aware my tenants' lease is up at the end of this month. It would have been completely reasonable for them to pack up and move under the circumstances. I know I would consider doing so. Additionally, I knew if they did pack up and move, we would either 1) still have to get the work done and have to pay the turnover costs associated with having a vacant home or 2)--and this was the more likely scenario--give this home back to the bank. Neither appealed to me. Fortunately, it appears this was resolved in time and it won't be an issue after all.

The Passive Aggressive Diva That I Am

Flunky the Maintenance Asshat's e-mail arrived in my inbox at some reasonable hour Monday. It said, "Here is a new quote for the work that needs to be done on your home in Fultondale." And what do you know! It was less than half of cost of the first quote.

You remember that first quote don't you? The one I have repeatedly asked for since June? The one Mr. 114 told me was garbage? Yea, that one.

A few weeks ago, after asking Flunky repeatedly to find another vendor, he told me "there is no other company that does this kind of work", essentially letting me know this was as good as it would get and that I needed to back off. Somehow that changed last week and Birmingham became awash with watershed management companies.* This time Flunky found a more wonderful "as good as it was going to get" type of price.

Of course, because the quote was so handsome Flunky has been pestering me all darn day to approve the the project.

I probably will.

When I am good and ready.



*That pun is for you Alec.

This Isn't The "Right Property"

If you aren't aware of this particular tid-bit about me, I hate showing rentals. Yes. I work for a property management company, but for the most part, I sell real estate for a property management company. Rentals. Not so much.

However, my kids are addicted to groceries. And, with Buckaroo in two sports and about to turn 13 in a matter of days, we go through a lot of groceries. A lot. So, I show rentals.

One of the nifty aspects of real estate is I can advertise other people's listings. Yes, I need permission (unless the rentals are from my company), but being able to do so allows me to generate leads. And essentially a filled rental home makes for a happy owner and a full belly for Buckaroo.

Anyway, I recently ran an ad for a home. As you may remember from our Landlord 101 final exam a few years ago on this blog (which I am pleased to say the three of you passed), the most information you will ever find out about a tenant is from the time they show any interest in a home to the moment they sign the lease. That in mind, this is the response I got from a guy named Ray for an ad I ran. It came in this past Saturday night.

"I am interested in this rental and would like to schedule a viewing today. My roommate are looking to move into a property as soon as Monday. We have cash in hand and are ready to move on the right property. Can I see this property tomorrow?"

Now, mind you, the dude didn't call me--which would make a heck of a lot more sense if he has the urgency I seem to be reading into this. It also appears he can't make up his mind. Did he want to see this house on Saturday or Sunday. Marty Sunshine was even questioning whether or not he was real. That aside, there are a few reasons why I would never rent to him if this were my property.

1) He sounds desperate. If you are willing to move within two days (mind you it takes about two business days to run a background check, credit check and landlord check), why? Are you being kicked out of your current home? Did you not realize the month rolled over and are just exhibiting poor planning skills? Owners don't like poor planning skills from tenants. It tends to become a monthly trend, which involves poor planning with the rent.

2) He has a roommate. That probably means he can't afford the rent himself (which in this case is $1200). Most landlords (me and the company I work for included) require a tenant to have a monthly income of three times the monthly rent. If you need a roommate, you probably are not going to fall into that category. And what happens if Ray and his roomie have a falling out and the roommate leaves? Can Ray afford the rent or does he bail on an unsuspecting owner?

That was rhetorical by the way. We all know the answer to this because it was in the Landlord 102 final exam.

3) And finally, Ray has cash. Nowhere in his quick message did it say anything about him having the "money" for rent and deposits. Just that he has "cash." Of course, there is the usual cliches about the kinds of folks who have all cash businesses. Ray sounds like a nice, Italian name. Don't you think?

But drug runners and mafia aside there is the screaming subtext of, "I don't have a bank account" or "My credit is so bad that I cannot get a checking account." Most owners don't accept potential tenants who do not have bank accounts. These folks tend to look more transient. And less reliable. And the question coming to my mind is why is this person not grown up enough to have a bank account? Granted it isn't against the law to keep your money in an empty fruit cocktail can in the pantry, but it is nonconforming. Owners tend to appreciate conforming. And stability.

I did not respond to Ray. For one thing, today is Monday. I didn't work this past Sunday so I didn't get his message in time. And second, I don't want to help him. My feeling is that he first needs to help himself.

Karma

So I work for a property management company. Last year, one of our owners from Canada came down to Arizona to visit their five properties. They also wanted to buy another--which was where I came in. I found them the best deal ever on a home. They got it for $70,000 under market.

In exchange for jumping through a lot of hoops and finding them the bargain of the century, they wrote a note to the broker telling him how incompetent I happen to be. Of course, nobody on my end believed it and my conscience was clear.

Fast forward to six months later. One of their properties came vacant. As part of my job, I found them not one, not two, but three qualified tenants to rent this home. All of them would have been dream tenants. All of them were rejected for various reasons, including in one case--and I am not making this up--though the husband's monthly salary was more than than five times the monthly rent and they had no debt and a sizable savings account, the wife didn't work outside the home. And, what would happen if the husband lost his job? Who would pay the rent then?

At that point, I recused myself, told my broker he was on his own and he could find tenants for these yahoos. I also made it clear I would never, ever show any of their rentals. Ever.

This past week one of their rentals came vacant. And, what did these folks do? They fired my broker and have decided to rent it out and manage it themselves from Canada. Best of luck to them. They will need it.

Now Marty's Drama

So after several maddening e-mails with Flunky the Maintenance Asshat today I finally told him that I pay the property management company to handle these kinds of things . And as soon as he has done his job to find out what is really going on, he can let me know so that I can make an informed decision about what to do about the hot water heater.

Five minutes later Flunky wrote me back and said "I just want to know if you want to call a plumber or should I?"

Frankly, I don't know if I need a plumber. For all I know the tenant is whining about nothing and wants to get out of her lease (that happens. Often.). Of course, if a plumber is needed he should call. That's why he is the Maintenance Guy.

Also, I had already covered that particular topic in other exchanges with him today. He has yet to tell me what "not hot enough water" happens to be. Instead of replying, I did what any sensible wife would do. I forwarded the e-mail to Marty Sunshine and said, "You deal with this and make sure he doesn't contact me about this again."

Close, But Not Close Enough

I just got a work order from Flunky the Maintenance Asshat. As usual he has usurped my repeated requests for him to work directly with Marty Sunshine. At this point I am convinced he only writes to me because because he has it out for me.

That's ok. I have it out for him too.

Apparently one of my tenants is in crisis. The work order said the tenant has hot water, but it isn't "hot enough". Flunky asked me what I wanted him to do about it.

I don't know, perhaps ask for a clarification to what "not hot enough" happens to mean? How long is this tenant running the hot water? How hot does she want the water? You know, so basics so that I can make an informed decision.

As politely as I could muster, I responded to Flunky by asking for clarification. I am guessing now this will turn into a complete pain in the neck that will make me crazy by Friday.

Back at Square One

Now then, where did we leave off with the house in North Centerpoint?

You remember this drama don't you? This is the home where the mortgage was called due a year ago for some reason unbeknownst to us. In addition, the Bigoted Asset Manager's committee rejected all reasonable short sale offers--unless we agree to give them $36,000 more than we actually owe on the mortgage. After we agreed to disagree on this matter, the Bigoted Asset Manager then went back to the "committee" and asked if the bank would agree to a deed in lieu of foreclosure. Apparently this "committee" meets regularly, because not two days later the committee said no to this request too.

Actually, the day we got the rejection letter we also received another letter from the same mortgage company. The second letter was a demand for the full amount of the mortgage. The same mortgage they called due last year, and had they not, we could have been paying all along and never been in this situation. The mortgage company rejected our short sales. They have now rejected our request for a deed in lieu. But they want their money. Good luck with that. We don't have it. 

I spoke to Legalowl right after I got the letter from the bank. She said to do nothing. She did suggest we keep the insurance and taxes up on the property. "It makes for a smoother transition." Whatever that means. This has been nothing but smooth. I also suspect if we don't pay the impounds the bank might move faster. But who knows. 

Eventually someone at the bank is going to want this deadwood off their books. But until then, we will just let it sit there. 

I Figure He Is Still Reading

So this past weekend Luigi contacted me and asked if I had any concerns about Flunky the Asshat Maintenance Manager. I have no idea what prompted his question or why he decided to ask little old me, but he did.

And, it just so happens I do have concerns. Lots of them. And I shared the ones I remembered off the top of my head with Luigi. If I had given myself some time, I would have come up with several more. I toyed with sending a "chapter 2" to Luigi or sending him copies of the crappy e-mails Flunky has sent me in the past year, but I didn't want to sound vindictive. I am guessing long about paragraph 10 of my dissertation Luigi was a bit sorry he brought this up.

In all fairness, I kept my comments neutral and factual. I left out the drama--except when Flunky contacted me at 5:21 a.m. and then told me it wasn't "urgent." Yea... I am still pissy about that.

And finally, I told Luigi I have left property management behind, and yet every call/text/e-mail from Flunky means I have to spend at the very minimum four hours of my time making sure I have the right person around to do the work because Flunky is short on customer service and feels entitled to spend my money any darn way he wants. If I wanted to spend four hours of my life fact-checking Flunky I could just manage my own properties and save myself a few dollars.

I did tell Luigi I very strongly feel there are probably many other owners who feel the same way I do. I also (rhetorically) questioned how many owners may have left this particular property management company just to be rid of Flunky. I summed up my thoughts by suggesting Flunky is harming Luigi's reputation as well as Luigi's company's reputation. Reputations are easy to destroy and hard to build.

Incidentally, I still haven't heard back from Luigi. That's fine. I have said my piece.

And Just To Be Sure

Right after I wrote the Bigoted Asset Manager, I forwarded Pam the Supervisor the same e-mail. Underneath it I attached several items of my ignored correspondence from the guy. Here's hoping this  process moves a little faster from this point forward.

Bless His Bigoted, Cold, Rotten Heart

Our house in North Birmingham where we were trying to get a short sale got interesting. Since April, I had been talking to the Bigoted Asset Manager who had encouraged me to do a short sale. In fact, he blatantly discouraged me to let the house go into foreclosure.

When we first spoke in April, he suggested that the "committee" (???) would never "believe" Marty and I "needed a short sale" under the "circumstances". He said he was looking at our credit scores at that very moment and it would be a "hard sell" and didn't I just want to pay what I owe?

At the time, thinking I was working with a professional, I explained that the second mortgage had been called due--by his company and without any conceivable reason--starting this train wreck, the tenant had moved out and we were no longer in a position to take care of this house. The Bigoted Asset Manager made tut-tut noises and sent me on my way.

Four months later, Kirby submitted a total of four cash offers for our home to this bank. I had been speaking to the Bigoted Asset Manager all along. At one point, he sent me an e-mail offering me unreasonable terms to settle this account. We said no. Foreclose. The bigoted Asset Manager backed down, saying he would see what he could do.

What he did do was send me a lovely letter, via US Postal Service saying the "committee" rejected my short sale. What he also did was ignore my e-mails and phone calls for the following weeks.

Sick of the entire process, I sicced Marty on this. Last week Marty called around to this bank trying to find the person to talk to so that we could start the deed in lieu of foreclosure process. He left voicemail after voicemail. Finally someone named "Pam" called him back. Apparently Pam is a supervisor. She listened carefully as Marty relayed our story (we tried the short sale route and you folks rejected the offers we got.). Pam was none-too-happy we had jumped through so many hoops and promised to have someone call by the end of the day.

And someone did call. It was the Bigoted Asset Manager. On the phone with Marty, he was polite, reasonable and back-pedaled. It was clear that he and Pam had a terse conversation prior to him calling our home. Apparently at that particular moment he was more than willing to help us in any way.

However, when I found out Marty was on the phone with the guy, I was furious. He would return Marty's call, but not mine. I said loudly, "Is that the same Bigoted Asset Manager who refused to return my calls and e-mails for the past month but yet will call you back at the drop of a hat?"

At which point, Marty shot up a hand and gave me a look, begging me not to pick up the home extension and continue my tirade at the guy. Apparently the Bigoted Asset Manager heard me because Marty relayed the following message from him, "Thank you for being so professional Mrs. Landlord through the entire short sale process." And that just annoyed me further.

As it stands now, I believe the Bigoted Asset Manager is supposed to go back to the alleged "committee" and ask for guidance. We explained that we no longer had buyers for the house, so we would have to start over with another short sale--that is if Kirby is willing to do this again. After all, nobody likes working for free.

And just to be sure we are all on the same page, I e-mailed the jerk the following note:

Dear Bigoted Asset Manager,

Thank you for taking time to speak to my husband about our situation earlier this week. As he has a full time job, he still would like me to be the point of contact for this issue.

Would you please let me know what the next steps happen to be so that we can turn this home back over to the Bank. As your committee has rejected the four cash offers we brought you, it seems reasonable to expect a deed in lieu of foreclosure or a judicial foreclosure. We are more than willing to accommodate and save your company the trouble of a judicial foreclosure. So, if a deed in lieu works for you, that would be great with us.

Currently the home is vacant and probably vulnerable to vandalism and vagrancy, so moving forward and quickly as possible is probably in everyone's best interest.

Please advise soon. 

Sincerely, 

The Landlord

I know it is more wordy than "Bless your heart" but I sure hope it conveys the same sentiment. 

Mr. 114 to the Rescue

It is obvious that neither Flunky nor Marty are going to take care of the issue for the house in Fultondale. I am rather annoyed, but that is for another blog. The main issue is that the home is situated downhill and that happens to be the direction water flows when it rains.

Even in the South.

Because water flows downhill, it appears (according to the tenant who is squawking about this matter) it is somehow coming into the home. At one time I had the house sealed and drains put in to resolve this matter. The person who did it was Mr. 114, someone I know, trust and believe in. I don't trust or believe in Flunky the Maintenance Asshat who is in charge of finding someone to re-fix this issue.

Now before you suggest the obvious: why doesn't Mr. 114 go out there and fix the issue? After all, he did it once before and the problem has come back. There are two reasons. One, the scope of work he did last time did not include this area where water is coming in now. Think of it like this: if a roof has a leak, and it is patched it can still leak somewhere else at a later date. In this case, when Mr. 114 fixed the first water drainage issue, he shored up other potential areas of concern. But he didn't have a crystal ball on what would happen seven years in the future. If a tenant happens to plant or move earth or doesn't clean out the french drains on the property, water can be diverted and go somewhere else.

As I am not there and only hearing this second-hand, I don't know if the tenant has caused this or if there is an erosion issue. Right now, because Flunky is useless and won't tell me where the water is coming in ("I don't know but I will ask the contractor.") Mr. 114--who does this kind of thing for a living and is familiar with this house--is of the mind that the water may be coming in from under the porch, a place that was shored up at one time, but if the tenant moved things around it could be an issue now.

The other reason Mr. 114 doesn't want the job is because he lives 60 miles from this house. However, he has been a wealth of knowledge. And for that, I am grateful.

To speed things along, I recently asked Flunky for a new quote for this work. The first quote was more than I felt was reasonable. Instead of actually, you know, finding another quote, Flunky quickly told me "that is the best he can do."

As this issue was starting to get out of hand, I called Mr. 114. I asked him what he thought of my quote. And, Mr. 114 even called Flunky on my behalf to discuss this quote. When Mr. 114 called me, he didn't mince words. He said, "I don't' trust him and your quote is crap." That's what I was thinking too.

Apparently, Flunky's quote calls for only 8 feet of drain to be installed (for $2000????). The house is longer than 8 feet. So, installing culverts and drains for 8 feet will only divert the water so far before it pools up, causing more damage. There are other issues with the quote too. According to Mr. 114 the scope of the work I am being asked to pay for will do nothing to resolve the issue and only make things worse. And according to Mr. 114 he told Flunky to get another quote.

When I spoke with Mr. 114 yesterday, he told me not to proceed (no problem there, I don't have that kind of cash right now). He said wait for the new quote and immediately send it to him prior to agreeing to anything.

I am good with that.

A Third One on the Brink

One of our homes needs some maintenance. For the past two months, I have asked Marty Sunshine to work with Asshat the Maintenance Flunky in getting this done. There are a few reasons for this, primarily I just don't want to deal with Flunky and his maintenance requests. Frankly, anything related to Flunky just annoys the hell out of me.

Last April, two days into my vacation I spent a good 45 minutes in the Wal-Mart parking lot in Fort Stockton Texas, chewing out Flunky for being a liar. At the time, he really had no reasonable defense and didn't care much that I had caught him in lies that were detrimental to my business--which made me chew him out even more. Strangely enough, he took it from me. A few hours later, somewhere near Ozona Texas, he spoke with Marty and got another earful. Either the guy is just some sort of freak who gets his jollys from others yelling at him, or he is a serious dimwit. I am not betting money on which.

Moving right along,  months ago, when these repair issues came into play, I made it perfectly clear: CONTACT MY HUSBAND ABOUT THIS HOUSE AND DON'T BOTHER ME. There were e-mails, which Flunky acknowledges ("Mrs. Landlord, I don't have Marty's e-mail address, will you send it to me again?" and "Mrs. Landlord is (your cell number) the best number to reach Marty?")

The other day I got an e-mail from Flunky: It said, "Your tenant is complaining that this work has not been done."

This was news to me. Marty had authorized Part A. Part B wasn't too bad and could wait. So what was the big deal? But because I was not in a saintly frame of mind, I responded with, "Your owner is complaining that the tenant is late on their rent, so nobody is happy right now." I also reminded him that concerning this house, Flunky was to go directly to Marty Sunshine and not involve me whatsoever.

But no. Flunky is an idiot. Instead, he sent me an e-mail saying, "It looks like they paid up," and then asked when we would authorize the work.

Because I am not a fool, I asked Marty to please call Flunky and get things straightened out. Flunky's story to Marty was different, they had not come up with the entire rent amount and when were we going to make all the repairs? So, not only did Flunky lie directly to me--the tenant is not paid up, but he didn't care that he lied to me.

As I explained to Marty, this tenant's lease is up in October. We can't afford to get the work done on this property without the rent money (which will pay for the work). If the tenants move out, we can't afford a vacant home AND the repairs we will need to get this place in order to rent. So, it might be best to see if the tenant is staying before we move forward. Otherwise, it will be the third home to go.

Oh... The Irony

______________________________________________

To add insult to injury, my 15 year old, Polly, is taking a financial literacy class. For those of you unaware, my daughter has a learning disability. So, I often help her read.

One of the questions I read to her was, "Name a poor financial decision." And before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Buying houses in Alabama."

On A Brighter Note

For those of you three long-time readers, you may recall that August 24 is our own personal holiday around these parts. Today is my dear friend and bookkeeper's birthday.  I have known Bliz for more than half of my life. She tutored me in high school chemistry, taught me how to wear eye liner and held my hand as I navigated through teenage angst. What more can a friend ask for?

Many years ago, when I had a wild idea to start an accidental business, Bliz became my bookkeeper. I remember sitting across from her in the Midwestern city she lives in and watching to her agree to this journey. I am so glad she did.

Happy Birthday Bliz. You are an amazing friend. You keep me grounded. You have always brought out the best in me and you listen patiently to my whining. God was working overtime the day He shoved you into my life all those years ago.

--S

PS. Your birthday present will arrive tomorrow. They refused to ship it on Friday. :-)

I Can Tell Them Where to Go

Like a bad holiday white elephant gift exchange, I can't seem to unload my two defunct homes.

In fact, the only person who has anything positive to say to me is the guy from India (confirmed) who called me from the second mortgage company for our Pinson home (they house with the wrap around porch, 2 acres, mountains, pond, etc.), who casually asked how I was doing today. The conversation went South about two seconds afterwards when he asked for my social security number, but it was nice while it lasted.

In all fairness, I have heard from representatives of the first mortgage company for the Pinson home. Some attorney sent Marty and me separate letters telling us we are very bad people and they are going to sue us. They were going to take everything we had, including the cat and the kids if we didn't immediately cough up the entire balance of what we owed to them with interest and attorney's fees.

And by the way, they don't like us.

I am sure the sentiment was real, but I can't get too worked up about it when the actual mortgage company--the one who hired these goons--keeps juggling me around. Two weeks ago Naynay was my deed in lieu of foreclosure liaison. Then it was someone named Akmed and now it is a guy named Jonathan. Apparently (according to the e-mail I got from Jonathan) the mortgage company now wants to see the interior of the property and they will then "make a determination" of where to go from there. It doesn't really matter where they decide to "go from there."

I personally don't understand what all the hold up is. I can tell them what is happening next. There is no need to decide where to go from this point forward. They are getting the house back.

A Week in the Life of an Accidental Business

Though most of the posts these days are centered around the drama of our two pre-foreclosures, there really is other activity happening down South. To give you an idea of what my week was like:

Saturday (August 1): I got a bill from Kirby for work he did that I did not previously authorize. Apparently Flunky, the maintenance jerk took it upon himself to order Kirby to one of my homes on my behalf. Because Kirby gave me the frequent customer discount and I would have authorized it if they he had asked, I have not raised hell with Flunky. Yet.

Sunday: Some horrid hour before 8 a.m., the second mortgage company for the home in Pinson (the one with the charming wrap around porch) called us. I answered, said a few words that aren't intended for a family blog and then promptly went to church to beg for forgiveness.

Also Sunday, Ms. Angie wrote me a pretty creative e-mail explaining why rent would be a tad bit late. Apparently, her daughter had been arrested and the rent money was used for bail. Not once, mind you, but twice in 24 hours. Oh, and by the way, she "loves the home" and "is happy living there."

Monday: I had a long talk with Carolsue. We had not chatted in months. We didn't discuss anything related to Alabama, and it was a lot of fun to chat with an old friend.

Monday I also realized Mrs. Sherwood hadn't paid the rent.

In addition, Monday, Mr. Partner sent me an e-mail telling me one of of our mortgage companies wanted proof of insurance and could I handle that immediately, thankyouverymuch.

Tuesday: The Bigoted Asset Manager sent me a professionally terse letter saying he/his bank would not approve a short sale. Given I have e-mailed and/or talked with this man at least once a week, every week since the beginning of April and he couldn't be bothered to give me a head's up, I am guessing he is serious. More on this in another blog. Probably.

Wednesday: Marty Sunshine contacted the first mortgage company for the home in Pinson to find out what was going on with our deed in lieu of foreclosure. It turns out our representative, Naynay, hadn't done anything--including but not limited to--actually processing all of the papers we had sent to the mortgage company. Nor had Naynay returned my calls or e-mail. Anyway, when Marty called he was told our case was "closed" and Marty asked them to re-open it. We are now told a representative from the mortgage company is supposed to call Luigi's office to arrange access to this house. This particular representative called us once, leaving a message for Marty to call him back immediately. Marty has repeatedly called him back with no luck.

Thursday: Sometime when I wasn't looking, Mrs. Sherwood slipped the rent money into the bank account.

I also found out Thursday that I accidentally paid the second mortgage on the Pinson home through the bank's automatic bill payer option. For the record, this won't be a mistake I make again. However, sending one accidental gratuitous payment has not cut down the calls from the second mortgage payment one bit.

And finally, Friday (today): In the mail today was LegalOwl's bill. I believe there are third world nations with a smaller gross domestic product than what what our LLC owes her.

And Neither Have We

Well, the bigoted Asset Manager for the home we have in North Birmingham (the one where the bank called the second mortgage due) has gotten back to us about our super-awesome short sale offer. As you may recall, we have someone willing to pay $58,000 for our home.

Unfortunately, what the bank had to say was they they will only do a short sale if I agree to give them close to $30,000 upfront and sign a promissory note for the remainder. Now for those of you confused on what a short sale happens to be, it is when the bank agrees to take an amount less than the amount owed because the value on the property is lower than the amount owed.

So, asking us to pay the difference in cash and a promissory note defies the entire purpose of the short sale in the first place. In fact, before we even started this process  I spoke with the Asset Manager to verify we were on the same page. My first clue there might have been an issue is when he said last April, "I just pulled up your credit. You are never going to convince the bank with credit like yours that you can't pay." I should have gone with my gut. However, I do recall speaking with Mr. Asset Manager at the time who assured me in no way did the bank want a foreclosure. After all, then they have to sell it.

And now, here we are. Today I showed the Asset Manager's e-mail to all the major players. Kirby assures me they are bluffing and will cave. When I first got Legal Owl involved today, she suggested I play along to buy some time. But after more billable hours deliberation, we decided to just tell the bank to go ahead and foreclose. Our credit is now crap anyway. We don't have the money and it won't change if I sign a promissory note or not. And frankly, I don't want to promise to pay more money that I can't necessarily follow up on. So Legal Owl wrote a lengthy missive that boiled down to "Go ahead and deny this, I've got nothing to loose." I signed off on it and sent it on is as my own.

Not three minutes later the Asset Manager wrote back that I really needed to reconsider. It will wreck my credit (so will a short sale), I need to talk to an accountant because there are some tax implications (done) and a string of other things that sound like what you might tell a small child when you want them to do something they really don't need to do. The gist was I was making a grave mistake by not agreeing to give them money upfront and pay the rest later. He wrote a good letter until the end when threw this gem at me,

"We could foreclose and that would probably resolve the issues above. Believe it or not,  I have never done a deed in lieu. I am not sure how to handle that."

Yep. That's the crux right there. He doesn't know what to do next. Guess what? That makes two of us. 
 

Reflecting

It infuriated me beyond belief when tenants would say, "I don't have the rent," and then stay in my house. Or, they would be short every month, but when I came to Alabama, they would have furnishings or toys much newer and nicer than mine because furnishings and toys are more important than paying for a place to live. I consider the contract to rent a home to be binding. I do my part, and I expect the person signing to to theirs.

I have been known to call these folks deadbeats, losers or worse. Some of them still make my jaw clench when I think how they stayed in my home, letting me (at times) work two jobs just so we could pay the mortgage company and the lawyer to evict them.

We work for what we have and we expect those on the receiving end to act accordingly. Yes, we have had some nice vacations, but they were paid for with cash. Ahead of time. I bring this up, because one tenant who was squatting in my home actually suggested if my family hadn't gone to California one year, we could have afforded her not to pay the rent. So it was our fault.

The reason I bring this up is because we are doing the same with our mortgage companies. Essentially we have become the deadbeats or losers. I struggle with this daily.

Marty Sunshine suggested it isn't remotely the same. When our situation became the reality it is, we told the banks immediately. We offered them the homes upfront. But they didn't want them. I understand our reason for going this direction was strategic. But then, one could argue, our tenants' reasoning for staying in our homes long past when they should have left could also be deemed "strategic."

In return for us breaking our contracts with the banks, we will be sued. There will be a judgement against us. We are unable to get loans for just about anything for years (if we want loans). We can't get a new mortgage any time soon either. My credit score alone has dropped 73 points in the past eight weeks. Marty Sunshine (whose name and credit is tied with more of these delinquent loans than my name), doesn't want to know how far his score has plummeted. Eventually--when the dust settles--we will most likely file bankruptcy. All because of a situation we couldn't control. Or didn't control properly. You pick.

But I don't see how I can call the people who did this to me deadbeats without looking in the mirror and seeing the same.

We Got His Attention

If you are a long-time reader of this blog, you might have gotten the impression Mr. Partner is rough around the edges. He is. He is also a savvy landlord and I have learned a lot from him through the years.

The biggest challenge we have faced with Mr. Partner is his memory has holes. We were rocking in the early years of the accidental business. Just rocking. He thought I was a genius. Heck, I thought I was a genius! Our business plan was spot-on and everything was going swimmingly.

And then it didn't.

And Mr. Partner didn't seem to comprehend "We have 12 vacancies, a dead water buffalo heard rotting the basement of one home and the FBI is zeroing in on a potential illegal Romanian gambling ring in another house." The crazies--and I promise you every story I write on here is true--started piling up and 1) a blog was born and 2) we ran out of money. Fast.

When approaching Mr. Partner with financial drama, generally what I would hear from him was, "Why did this happen? It wasn't like this back in 2007."

This is where it got interesting. Marty Sunshine and I always contributed first when I noticed our business bank account was running low. After a few months of financial juggling, we would ask Mr. Partner to match our contribution. Instead of just agreeing, or asking something reasonable, like how much did we contribute and when, Mr. Partner would ask for bank statements. He would then point out that our account on the first of the month had lots of money in it what happened to the money? That's true, but once the bills are paid, the money was gone.

Mr. Partner would also ask for income statements and balance sheets. Let's be fair, he is owed these items. They were also provided to him regularly. He didn't want the regular ones, but he wanted up-to-date numbers that did not reflect reality. Because financial statements tell viewer of what happened before, not what is happening right now.

However, in order for him to commit to putting a penny into the bank account, which was usually on the brink of us bouncing mortgages, he would insist upon seeing these reports. I would always call Bliz, beg her forgiveness, ask her to drop everything she was doing and please make the financials current and send them over to me. Then, once she sent everything, I'd pass it along to Mr. Partner who would scrutinize it and ask why we spent so much on dead water buffalo removal and couldn't we have found someone trustworthy to do it for $25?

Also, for those of you not familiar with balance sheets, the Owner's Equity category is a negative number. This always throws Mr. Partner because his negative number is closer to zero than ours. So, in his mind, it was he who put in more money. And again, before he would commit to making sure nothing bounced, Marty would have to explain this concept to him. The reason Marty did this is because I got to the point where I could not speak civilly to Mr. Partner.

In all fairness, Mr. Partner would always oblige, match our contribution and say things like, "This will be the last time I ever give another dime to this LLC."

One time, when I knew we were on a fast track to bouncing every mortgage payment, I sent him a saccharine-sweet note, letting him know that if he didn't match our contribution immediately, it would be the homes in his name where the mortgages weren't paid that month. And that was fine by me. Another time, I may have accidentally on purpose not paid the property taxes on a home with the mortgage in his name. But hey! We didn't have the money and Mr. Partner was being stubborn.

This tenuous relationship has lasted for years. Marty--bless him--has always been the peacemaker between Mr. Partner's obnoxious insinuations that I have run the company into the ground and me promising a painful and cruel death for the man if he didn't do his part. And, there has been more than one occasion where I have pointed out to him that I go to Birmingham on my own dime (at his request) and I take the calls, shield him from the plethora of drama and a LOT OF OTHER STUFF HAPPENS because I do it and he doesn't. And I am willing to trade jobs with him any time.

In the past six months or so, things have shifted. When we came to Mr. Partner and explained the bank called the mortgage due for our home in North Birmingham and the home in Pinson is beyond reasonable repair he listened. We then told him Marty and I were willing to let the homes go. It would be our credit trashed and we would probably have to file bankruptcy to clean up this mess. Though we weren't excited about this prospect, we had consulted a lawyer and a few other experts (on the LLC's dime) and it appeared it was the only recourse we could see to solve this mess. The banks weren't going to play and we did not have the money anymore.

Mr. Partner offered to help out with whatever financial necessitates were needed. And we appreciated it. But it didn't change the realities. This wasn't something we could just write a check to fix. We asked him to think about if he really wanted to do that. And he asked us if we were really sure we wanted to "strategically downsize." We were sure. And frankly I think Mr. Partner was sure too.

Since then, Mr. Partner has been very conciliatory. "Anything you need," he has told me almost weekly. When I warned him the insurances were due this month and it was usually Marty and I who handled this, he said not to worry, he'd cover it.

A couple weeks ago, the three of us went to lunch to discuss the state of affairs. I made a few jokes about our credit being shot and our impending financial meltdown. I joked because at this point, one can only wallow in the miasma of doom for so long. It is the decision we made. And so far, I feel it is for the best. I realized afterwards my comments made him uncomfortable, but that was certainly not my intention. But that said, it seems that Marty and I being willing to let these homes go to get this monkey off our back has certainly made an impact on him.

Functional Dysfunction

Every July, since the first year of our accidental business, most of my home owner's insurances happen to be due. Don't ask me why, but the majority of our gazillion homes we bought through the years were purchased in July. So here we are.

Also, because of strategic business decisions of years' past, we pay several of our insurances (and taxes, but that's December's issue) out of pocket. And, because we have a gazillion properties, traditional insurance companies stopped insuring us long ago. So five of our homes happen to be lumped into two commercial insurance policies.

This is where it gets a bit messy. Unfortunately three of the five homes in these two policies are homes Marty and I own without a partner. In the event you aren't completely confused and are still reading this: one policy holds three homes (two are Marty's and mine and one belongs to the LLC we have with Mr. Partner) and the other commercial policy holds two (one is Marty's and mine and one happens to be the home we have a short sale on--but it is in Mr. Partner's LLC).

Additionally, paying these two clunky policies is a bit of a chore. The money can't be co-mingled. So the Solo LLC can't pay Mr. Partner's LLC's policy without a lot of excessive journal entries and insanity Bliz just hasn't signed up for.

There are other insurance policies on our other homes out there, but these are the two policies tend to be most maddening. Once upon a time when Bliz had more free time, she would patiently sort through this, figure out which home's policy cost how much and then pay these particular bills for me. But one year she gave me some veiled threat of mutiny and a quadrupled hourly rate if she had to figure out how to disperse the money for these five homes.

So, this job is now mine. And now every July I have to dedicate several hours to figure out the login to the insurance Web site and guess at the password (because it is something unconventional like !obn0xious1) so I can actually read the policies and decipher the payment amount per home. It takes less time to read the entire Harry Potter series than figure this nonsense out.

I have to tell you, it would be genuinely nice if the insurance company would actually just mail me the policy and the bill like I have repeatedly requested. But, they don't. It is a fight I fought and lost. And at this point, I know what to do, where to look and just have adjusted my life accordingly.

Then there is Mrs. Sherwood's home's policy. This policy is from a different insurance company and they never send me a bill either. And again, I have asked and got tired of loosing this battle. There is only so much rejection I can handle in one month. But to their credit, they do send me a cancellation notice if I don't pay it. There have been numerous years I have had to call the insurance company begging to be reinstated (and suggesting if they had sent me a statement in the first place I would have taken care of this). Ironically, the only other time they send me a bill is after I send them $300 or so around July 12. Only then will they let me know exactly how much I really owe.

The biggest challenge with this process is, of course, that we are under-capitalized And, when one has under-capitalized issues, paying several thousand dollars of home owner's insurance is a bit of a challenge. So every summer we start a campaign to scrape together the money. Generally Marty and I make up the difference in July and Mr. Partner handles the money for the taxes in December. It is a simple dysfunction we have all grown comfortable with.

However, this year things were different. After I settled down last week do figure out what needed to happen, I discovered we had just enough money in the LLC to cover our insurances! You know, the way it should have been all along if things had gone smoothly. Sadly, the reason the money was there  this year to begin with was because we aren't paying for the two homes we are giving back.

The Non-Relationship Manager

The home where we are doing a Deed in Lieu of Foreclose (the house in Pinson with the charming wrap around front porch, for those of you keeping track) has a first and second mortgage. The process is maddening. There are times I feel like dealing with it, and times I don't.

We have been in contact with both mortgage companies since the beginning of the process. This has not stopped the second mortgage company from calling us twice a day, which they do. Last week, when they called for the first time one day, I needed to talk with them. You see, they had sent us a certified letter that we opted  not to accept. So, I wanted to find out what they wanted.

When "Mark" called last Thursday, I was in a cheerful mood. As soon as he identified himself, I said, "I am so glad you called. Would you please put me through to the asset manager. I need to speak with her."

At which point, Mark put me into the main phone system where a computer admonished me for being late, told me how much I owed and told me they would like a payment immediately thankyouverymuch, and if I wanted to speak with a human being, please press 2.

Apparently my relationship manager (Laury, whom I have yet to speak with), was unavailable but someone named "Agent 26" came on the line. Still being somewhat cheerful, I was totally taken aback by Agent 26's demeanor. He was downright hostile. He pointed out I owed money. Why wasn't I paying it? Seriously, it is a second mortgage and can't I just give up my "daily Starbucks addition" and manage my budge better so that I can pay them the money I owe?

This was all before I even said why I wanted to talk to him.

By the way, I don't drink coffee, nor do I frequent Starbucks.

I didn't give him a sob story. I won't. But I told him the truth (because he finally asked why we hadn't paid): the tenant moved in, didn't pay, trashed the place and fought the eviction. We drained our savings trying to pay the mortgage and pay the attorney on the house where these deadbeats lived. We don't have the money to fix it up. That is the truth. All of this I conveyed with as much of a pleasant professional demeanor as I could muster.

Agent 26 replied, "So this is a short-term problem and we can expect your payment when?" And at this point there was really no reason to continue with the call. The two points of interest I did gleam from this guy was they will not do a Deed in Lieu. Nope. No way. No how (then we will go straight to foreclose--but there was no point telling him). He also told me the second mortgage company plans on suing us. Which I pretty much figured out by the twice-daily phone calls.

I never did get around to the crux of the call (what was in the letter they sent?). Nor did I say what I really wanted to tell him, which is: "Do you think after owning this home for 11 years we want this??" Frankly, Agent 26 wouldn't let me talk anyway. And by that time, I really didn't want to.

We're In The Money

So Kirby has sent me another offer for our short sale. This phenomenally wonderful offer is for $58,000. Sadly, this is a full priced offer. Hopefully the bank will be as thrilled as we are.

This Is A Fine How-Do-You-Do

Last summer I helped Kathy and Tony find a lovely rental home. The home in question is a modest three bedroom stuccoed home in East Mesa. The house isn't in property management, but it self-managed by the out-of-state owner.

I should explain--because it might give you a bit of context--the way the system in Arizona works is that I show the house, the folks interested put an application in and if approved, a few weeks later I get a check that equates to about $4 an hour for my time. So, I don't know who the owner is. I don't write the lease. And I don't have any details about the lease.

Fast forward to this week. Kathy called me. You see, her lease states that she is to deposit the rent money directly into the owner's bank account. Apparently, her lease also gives her the owner's phone number to call if anything happens. But the lease does not give a few other vital tidbits: like the owner's e-mail address or a physical address. Just in case.

After all, what could possibly go wrong? Right?

If you happen to be one of my three readers, you will be snickering to yourself, because you know that something wrong happens in situations like these. In this case, when Tony went to deposit the rent money last week he found out the account was closed. While standing in line while the Wells Fargo teller waited patiently, Tony called the phone number he had for his landlord only to find out it was disconnected. And after probing a bit farther with the teller (who could have just told him this to begin with), it turns out the owner is deceased.

And that's when I got a phone call.

Technically, Kathy and Tony have not been officially notified about the owner's death. In fact, after I dug around on the ole' Internet for a while I found out that 1) the owner had resided in Miami Florida, 2) He died in January, 2015 and 3) it was a "tragic death", though I don't have any real details about it. I can also tell you he was self-employed and had heirs.

There are legal reasons I don't want to get involved with this. It isn't that I don't like these folks, but there are legalities associated with my real estate license, so I am not advising them. However, I have told the where to go for the information they are seeking. I did tell them if it were me, I would hold on to the rent money and not to spend it. They owe the money. But then again, they are owed their security deposit when they leave if they have fulfilled the terms of the lease.

I called Kathy today to follow up her and see how she was doing with her new news (I was morbidly curious). At this time they have decided to stay--though their lease is up at the end of July. Their thinking is that someone will eventually officially notify them, whether it is a family member, the bank telling them the home is in foreclosure or a probate court.

They are also setting aside the rent money so that they can show they have tried to pay it. They have written a statement, attached it to this month's rent, saying the owner had refused to give them his address or any way to get in touch with them other than a disconnected phone number. They put that in the same envelope as the rent. I am not advising them on this one, but I did tell them to call me when they are ready to find another home.

So, fellow landlords, it might be a really good idea to give your tenants a few ways to contact you. And, it might be a good idea for your heirs to contact your tenants in the unlikely event something unfortunate happens to you.

Happy Independence Day

Here's a little ditty about perspective.

The Greatest

And The Game Continues

I am pleased to say I got the banks to stop calling my cell phone at all random hours of the day. In fact, there is now only one bank who calls us. Every day at 8:36 a.m. Depending upon my mood, I will speak with them. Though I have talked to the "asset manager" there a couple of times and am not sure why we aren't on the same page. We are on the same page with all the other mortgage companies. I am kind of impressed though. This company has the least stake in the game and they are fighting hardest.

The calls are always from someone who sounds like he or she is working in a call center. Their accent is thick and not an American English dialect I am familiar with. In fact, in whatever call center training they are getting nobody has told them about American English colloquialisms. I once asked one of them where they were originally from and she named a city I later figured out was "Santa Fe." She pronounced it "San-te-a-fe-a."

Lately, the calls are pretty standard. They announce who they are (today was Travis). They ask if I am who I am. I always reply with a dull, "Can I help you?" and they continue on with their script. About two minutes after they come up for air, the next time I am to interact with them is when the poor unassuming person on the other end says, "Is this a good time to talk."

I always answer "No," and they promptly ignore me and proceed to the crux of the call. It has to be part of their script, because they all say the same thing, "I have very important information to share with you about your mortgage. Will you verify your social security number please?"

At this point, I will either say a few random things. Usually I just say No. But I have been known to change it up once or twice and ask if they would like to give me their social security number first. Every time I do this, the person on the other end gets flustered. Yesterday she ("Jane" or "Jean") said, "I don't think you need my number." When I refused to give mine to her, she then asked for my address--which I did provide. Much to my surprise, Jane (Jean?) announced I was wrong.

Then Jane (Jean?) said that I was to get the real Mrs. Landlord to call her back because I can't verify who I say I am.

Today when I talked to Travis, before he could get to the part where he asked my social security number, I interrupted and asked for an asset manager. I have spoken with asset managers at this mortgage company before. Today's request was going to be to have these yahoos stop calling. Period. Sometimes when I ask to speak with an asset manager I am told there is nobody there with that title. One person offered me the call center floor manager. "Do they have the authority to make decisions about my loan?" I asked. No. They didn't.

However, Travis seemed to have his A game on. He offered to transfer me to the person I wanted to speak with. I told him she was assigned to my case and I would be happy to discuss this with her. After waiting on hold for a few minutes, I was told no asset manager was available but Travis' boss would talk to me. And then "Mick." was on the phone. His first question was to ask who I was, and why I was on the phone with him. "Your company called me. Don't you know?"

Apparently he did not. We went a few rounds of this before we parted ways. But no matter. This mortgage company will call later today: at 2:17 p.m. and then again tomorrow at 8:36 a..m. where we can have another go.

I Need a Go Fund Me Account for Bail Money

Flunky, the Property Management's Maintenance Manager texted me at 5:21 a.m. today. It was simply, "I need you to call me as soon as possible." My first biggest annoyance was the phone woke me up. The second was that I was starting my day with some sort of Alabama drama, that probably I couldn't solve, but would be required to partake in nonetheless.

And for those of you who wish to point out my phone could be elsewhere, or that I could turn my ringer off, I would like to point out that only polite people with true emergencies or crazy, rude idiots call at unholy hours of the day. So, yes, I keep my ringer on. And though I certainly don't want it to make any sort of noise at that particular hour, we are currently on alert. When you get to a certain age, your extended family tends call with tragic news. And sadly we are currently waiting for this call from my cousin back East.

When I was woken up, I did what any good passive-aggressive Landlord would do. I muttered something that meant, "bless his heart, " and did my darnedest to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards. So, about 30 minutes later, before any type of caffeine was coursing through my veins, I was checking my e-mail, and guess what? Because I didn't call this dude back right away, he did the sensible thing and e-mailed me.

Flunky's e-mail said the home on Moody is having something dubbed, "moisture issues". For some reason that has yet to be explained to me, the only vendor in the greater Birmingham metropolitan area qualified to caulk a shower (because that is what it sounds like) was only available at 6:30 that morning and if I could please authorize this right then and there--even though I was not given a price--everyone could go on with their day.

If I did not authorize this, it would be at least another week before this moisture vendor could get into the home. And, according to Flunky, that would be detrimental because the "moisture issues" would then turn into "toxic mold". So, get back with him immediately,  Ok?

Of course, this e-mail was sent to me at 7:45 a.m. Alabama time. So, I don't know if this might be a home I have in a time zone west of me, or if one of Flunky's major deficiencies includes not being able to tell time. Or both.

Sleep deprived, annoyed and on the verge of plotting revenge on this jerk's sorry ass, I wrote him back. "Please give me a quote. Also it seems as if someone could probably go out there at some other time of day if the vendor isn't available to take care of this urgent matter."

And wouldn't you know, Flunky immediately wrote me back: "I never said this was urgent."

They Take This Stuff Too Seriously (But Don't Tell Them I Said So)

I happen to be a fan of Jeanne Robertson. She is funny and is one of my "go-to" folks when I am looking for a bit of levity. In an effort to brighten my mood yesterday, I looked on Youtube to see if she had any new (to me) material. I found the following clips.

War Eagle

Roll Tide

But more to the point, I have written many times about the Alabama/Auburn rivalry. It is real. And, it is a bit freakishly weird how absorbed somewhat normal people can be about their college teams.

Anyway, in case you aren't convinced the rivalry is real, here is an old blog about such things:

True Story

Enjoy Jeanne.

Random Whining

I had kind of an icky, teary day. So much of my life is upside down right now. Not just Alabama, but other things. I have some physical issues and some life issues that are taking precedence to all that is Yucky in the South.  I will be fine of course. But today It.Just.Got.To.Me.

Then I saw this.

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise." ~Oscar Wilde

________________________________________

Great accomplishments come from failures. Look at Post-Its, penicillin and vulcanized rubber. They all stemmed from the hope and ingenuity of other creations. However, right now, my biggest hope (other than being completely out of physical pain) is that I can look back on this in a year, month or even a day and laugh. But today, not so much.

________________________________________

Diamond Jim told me today that our tax implications aren't as disastrous as I expected them to be. There's a silver lining.

The Letting Go Process

So the Second Mortgage Relationship Manager called today just as they promised. What confused us, is that according to all of the documentation we have received, our Relationship Manager was someone named "Laury." But it was a dude named Mohammad who called us.

Though we had been told--and obeyed--it turns out we didn't really need to provide the second mortgage company with enough documentation to wipe out the Boreal Forest. Instead, we just had to talk with Mohammad who said what we needed to do was just ask for a simple piece of paper that we can give to the first mortgage company. And now we have.

Our next step is waiting while the first mortgage company decides if they will allow us to do a deed in lieu of foreclosure. Because they don't have to. However, the alternative is them spending the money, hassle and court time to foreclose.

Mohammad did ask why we weren't doing a short sale. I didn't answer him because 1) the call was recorded and 2) he wouldn't like the answer. We don't want the liability of holding on to the house any longer than we have to. The house is vacant in the country. It isn't in great shape thanks to those awful tenants who didn't do us any favors. Holding on to it longer can attract squatters, more vandals and other undesirables. We are liable for anyone getting hurt on the property. We are liable for any more damage. We are ready to be out of this. Or, as a friend explained, we just want to rip the band-aid off as quickly as possible.

One of the most positive moments of this particular conversation was that I managed to get him to take my cell phone off of their records so that I don't get any more calls. Actually, Mohammad said he put a note in my file that says, "Do not call." But I am not foolish to believe that will really be the case. But at least they won't be calling my cell any more. 

We did update LegalOwl today what was going on, as there will come a time when the dust settles that we will need her to negotiate the final judgments against us--that will be the next step. You see, getting rid of the house and trashing one's FICO score is just the tip of the iceberg. We can expect, especially with our track record, the banks aren't going to go away quietly. We expect there will be judgments against us and probably a bankruptcy in the next year or so.

And that brings up an interesting issue. As much as I would like to sell the Leeds house, we need to keep it through 2015 now. You see, we would prefer not to loose all the houses in the same year, as that causes one massive tax consequence we don't want to deal with. As it is Diamond Jim has warned me, with the losses we are facing (and subsequent tax issues), for me not to make too much money this year. Yes, loosing houses isn't clean. The IRS considers the difference between what the house ends up appraising for and what we owe as "income."

All of this I have learned in the past few months. I have gotten used to sighing loudly and rolling my eyes as the news just comes at us. Marty Sunshine pointed out that the only person who calls me a looser, failure, thief and deadbeat is me. And in my defense, I am calming down about this. I know there are other circumstances that have brought us to this point. And eventually I will sit back and do a lessons learned on this particular home and how it could have gone better. And I will also eventually work through my burning sense of abject failure. Someday.

Yippee?

We have an offer on our short sale home in North Centerpoint. $40,000.

Yes, you read that right.

But here is how the game works for Short Sales. The bank--who ultimately makes the decision--tells the real estate agent to price it any way they want. Once an offer comes in, the bank will then make their determination of how much they really want to sell the home for. The sellers (Marty and I) just sign papers and don't really have a say.

But none of this will happen until there is a true offer. Which we have now.

I am under the impression nobody thinks it will sell for $40k--including the person who put the offer in. I suspect Kirby had an investor friend do this so the bank will move on this. The investor friend would be happy to have the house--especially at $40k. Heck! I might even want to buy this house for that price! But realistically it will sell for more than that. Will the investor stay and find out? I have no idea.

But at least now we have an offer the bank can either accept, counter or reject. If the bank accepts. Awesome. Good bye house.

If the bank counters, the buyer can decide what they want to do. But at least a decision was made by the bank. That's a step in the right direction.

If the bank rejects, I think we will just wrap this up and go the foreclosure route.

Let the Deforestation Begin

We are working diligently to give my home in Pinson back to the bank. I would like to tell you it is going swimmingly, but let's face it, if it were, it wouldn't be blog fodder. Instead, my once-favorite home sits on the mountain, presumably empty and reasonably trashed by the last tenants who I hope are the recipients of Karmic retribution.

This particular home has a first and second mortgage. The first mortgage company told us early on they wouldn't discuss anything until we were more than 90 days late. However, a gentleman by the name of "Mr. King" did send me a packet of information and said I can call him at any time. He was there to help. He gave me specific instructions to send in these papers to him around the beginning of June and he would get this party started.

This past week we did just that. However, Mr. King doesn't work for this particular company any more. When I called them Monday afternoon, I was told there is no record of my paperwork anywhere. And then I got transferred to about six different people. Twice the phone line went dead and I had to start over. Finally I found a guy who sounded friendly and told me what to do. Unfortunately he told me I should have done this six weeks ago and I shouldn't have waited so long. It doesn't really matter at this point. They were taking the house back either way as far as I am concerned.

The second mortgage company hasn't been as wonderful to work with. For starters, they haven't really let me talk to anyone past the person who calls me at all hours of the day in broken English to demand my social security number.

And, generally when the second mortgage company calls me, I am not in the mood for them and the call never ends well. Last time they called I said, "may I speak to an asset manager please?" The person on the other said they had nobody with that tile--something I had heard before. But this time I added,. "And you expect me to believe you have called me, demanded I give you ultra personal information because you say you are a 'mortgage company' but don't have asset managers? What kind of mortgage company doesn't have an asset manager?"

Of course, this was at 10:15 p.m. last Friday night. So, the timing wasn't good for anyone. My bad. It turns out that this particular company doesn't call their asset managers by that name. They are called "relationship managers."

On Monday Marty called the company and asked to speak with one of these relationship manager-type folks. Apparently they said they can spare on of their "relationship managers" this coming Wednesday and they will call him back then.

What I am finding fascinating is the amount of paperwork necessary to hand over keys. According to at least Mortgage Company 1 (and Mortgage Company 2), I am to provide profit and loss statements, balance statements (sorry Bliz, I need those too. I didn't know until today), tax returns for the past two years, pay stubs, a hardship letter and several more reams of paper that I may have or not have at my disposal.

When the mortgage company (or companies) are done reviewing my paperwork, they then have their own agenda. I am supposed to negotiate with the second mortgage company on my own behalf upfront (hence the whole relationship manager meeting). And then the first mortgage company needs to a title search (fair enough) to make sure nobody else has claim to this property.

Then there is the whole matter of us proving we can't pay the mortgage. For whatever reason, this concept seems to confound everyone I have spoken with. During one of my phone calls to the first mortgage company Monday (who was actually was very nice about the whole thing) said that their records show that we can pay it. Oh how I wish that were true. In fact, it might have saved a lot of heartburn and a trashed FICO score if that were really the case.

Super Kirby

Kirby just called me. Apparently Flunky didn't feel the need to contact him on a Sunday night to announce one of the air conditioners at one of my homes has bit the dust. Flunky graciously waited until today. Which is reasonable.

And professional.

And polite.

And let me just ask this: why do I have a property management company handling my affairs when 1) I am getting the stupid phone calls on a Sunday night from unpleasant people and 2) I have to resolve the issues myself? I am wondering if Luigi would kindly put me on his payroll and I can manage my own homes.

I might be on to something here...

Anyway, I knew the call wasn't going to go well when Kirby started out with a tentative, "Hey Ms. Landlord...  How are you?" Kirby and I have gone too far in the past few years  to be addressed as "Mr." or "Ms." anyone. And as soon as he asked about my well-being, I knew he wasn't calling to tell me he had a buyer for my short sale.

"So is the AC dead?" I asked skipping all presumption. And that's where Kirby got upset.

"I tried to save it, I really did," he lamented.

If you had asked me 12 years ago if there would come a time in my life where I would be comforting my former property-manager-turned-AC-technician-and-real-estate-broker (especially a Southern man) I would have been laughing too hysterically to respond. But, yep. Here I am.

Kirby gave me the news. The AC unit isn't salvageable. He also said there was no way the unit had smoke coming out of it. But there was a gizmo causing the issue and that particular part it isn't made anymore. It isn't surprising, given the unit was put on in the early 1980s.

Kirby is also giving me the close friends and family price. Because, I swear, AC units do not cost this little. I didn't even consult with Marty Sunshine when he gave me the price. Frankly, if Kirby says it costs this much, I know I don't have to shop around,

As we were hanging up, I told him it would really make my day if he could find a buyer for my short sale. "Working on it next..." he replied. And I am sure he is.

Another Day in The Jaded Empire

To his credit, Flunky the Maintenance Manager actually seemed conciliatory when he called me at 6 p.m. tonight. And today is Sunday.

Flunky's conciliatory nature was such a far cry from the nasty confrontation he and I had while on vacation. I am not sure I blogged about it, but let's just say I was standing in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Fort Stockton, Texas angrily saying things like, "I don't know who you think you are..." and "When you said you physically saw the property and the damage, you were actually lying. Is this correct? Because I have better things to do than deal with liars.... And, you have proven you will lie on all occasions to cover your own incompetence..."

And, then there was last week's grouch-fest where the tenant is (rightly) complaining about a flood in the basement, I told him to speak immediately with Marty Sunshine. And, I told Marty the same. Marty completely understands I don't want anything to do with Flunky. And, I thought Flunky was on board with this when I got an e-mail from him Saturday morning asking how he was supposed to reach Marty in the first place (call him perhaps?).

Anyway, I guess this didn't completely sink in, because about 36 minutes ago, Flunky called me. You see, one of our tenants heard a big "bang" and then "smoke started coming up." It took me a few exasperating minutes to find out that smoke was coming up from the air conditioning unit. I guess I was supposed to know this automatically, because it took me asking Flunky "where was the smoke coming from?" three times before he narrowed it down for me. I personally think this is a little power trip game of his.

But then again, I think the entire phone call was a little power game. because in his next breath, Flunky told me "Obviously, we can't do anything about this tonight." Which, I figured out in the first three seconds of the phone call. And, it made me wonder why he didn't just call me tomorrow to give me the news, but I didn't say so because it would have kept me on the phone with this guy longer.

Sadly, not only did I have to endure talking to Flunky on my day off (and why do I have a property management company anyway when they are calling me on a Sunday night to tell me something happened but there is nothing that can be done?), but I also had to come up with a reasonable solution--something I pay these yahoos for. My response was simply, "Call Kirby."

You see, Kirby, who ran screaming from the property management business 18 months ago is now making loads of money off of me in air conditioning work. When Flunky admitted he didn't know who Kirby was, I reminded him that he has worked with Kirby on numerous occasions, as I keep telling him to directly talk to Kirby for AC issues. In fact, I listed off the last three homes Flunky and Kirby have discussed recently. After a few minutes of Flunky feigning ignorance, and me wanting to get back on with my life, I finally told Flunky I would e-mail him Kirby's contact info. Hopefully that will resolve it. However, I bet he doesn't contact him until tomorrow.

The most interesting part of this for me is that I forgot to ask for any relevant details. Heck! I even neglected to find out if everyone was ok (I hope so). In fact, I haven't even told Marty the news yet. My blood pressure isn't even through the roof. And, I am not even hopped up on chocolate or other substances. In essence, it is out of my hands. I have no idea how I am going to pay for this, But experience tells me it will get done.

Tenant Urgency

I manage two of the gazillion homes I have. I also quasi-manage another one--which is a long story, but the house is also in management. So, I guess I manage 2.5 houses. I don't miss managing homes. On those occasions where I am feeling sentimental about all the craziness, I just waltz into my office--which happens to be a real estate and a property management office. Three minutes in the door and I have had my fill of bizarre stories and situations to last a while.

I also have the utmost respect for those who do handle property management. I don't miss managing a gazillion homes. And, if I had to pick one, and just one, reason why I was ready for someone else to handle the phone calls it was simply because my tenants do not appreciate the existence of time zones.

I will never, ever get used to people who cannot fully comprehend time zones. And, for those keeping track, currently Alabama is two hours in front of Arizona. So, if it is noon in Arizona, it is 2 p.m. in Alabama. Because we don't celebrate the hoax that is Daylight Savings, our time difference changes part of the year. But, that really should not matter: Alabama isn't the same time as Arizona. No matter what.

Ever.

I will also never fully comprehend those folks who have a strange sense of urgency. Generally, this sense of urgency is directly related to their lack of comprehension that I am two hours away from their emergency. True, when I get calls like, "My gas hot water heater is currently on fire." I can appreciate the emergency, but it seems like managing the fire and making sure it is fully extinguished is much more urgent than immediately telling me.

Conversely, "Last Monday my septic backed up and now--4 p.m. (Alabama time) on the Friday before Labor Day Weekend--I thought I would tell you I have no working water disposal system," is only urgent because the tenant waited a week to tell me.

And by the way, those are real examples. Unfortunately.

I have gotten so many calls from frantic tenants who think I have some magic Landlord Wand(tm) that can make all their troubles disappear. I promise, I cannot fix an air conditioner or repair a hole in a roof from thousands of miles away in the next 20 minutes. No matter who calls or how many times a tenant may call (also real life Alabama examples). And by the way, having one of your friends call and tell me they are an attorney and start quoting make-believe Alabama Landlord-Tenant laws at me will not make the air conditioner get fixed any faster or get me to get on a plane any quicker and buy a tarp at Home Depot.

However, my most exasperating example of tenant urgency is the ones who call me at odd hours to announce rent will be late. Now, I am no fool. I suspect I get these calls at 4 a.m. (last week) or at 2 a.m. (a few years ago) because the tenant does not want to speak with me. But let's think about this, what if I do answer? Will I be in the kind of mood that will ingratiate these folks to me? A little forward thinking goes a long way.

Last week, there was one of these calls. The gist was they would like a few extra days to come up with the money. Would that be ok? Now, if we could process this please: You have known for days you weren't going to have rent today, but you waited until 6 a.m. your time to tell me this. Doesn't it stand to reason news like this could wait until a reasonable hour? Hell, I would even settle for a text or an e-mail! 

Last week, I ignored the call. If I had answered it, I would have probably said a lot more that was less polite. Instead, I allowed voice mail to do my bidding. When I was fully awake, I text my dear tenant back, explaining there is a two hour time difference. In their defense, they acted apologetic. However, I think next time I manage a home out of state (if I have any left, that is) and write up the application, I am going to give a time zone quiz. Any potential tenant who cannot master this, won't rent from me. It will save us both a headache.

The Ass. Manager

You might remember the home where the bank called the loan due?

Well, now it is a short sale.

I have been in discussion with some dude known as an "Asset Manager" who was quite friendly at the onset. Eight weeks into this process he isn't as friendly. In fact, he has become a bit bossy.

Last week I emailed him and asked two innocent questions:

1. Can he please have his goons stop calling me at all hours of the day on my cell phone?
2. Given the house hasn't sold, would the bank--which called the loan due, putting us in this situation in the first place, and what exactly was their exit plan in the first place when they started this mess?--be willing to consider a deed in lieu of foreclosure so we can just part ways and get on with our collective lives?

As far as he was concerned, neither was an option. He did ask for Kirby's (who happens to be the listing agent on this particular home) contact information.

The Asset Manager wrote me back today, telling me he felt that my real issue wasn't that I need to do a deed in lieu of foreclosure, but that I needed a different agent. Apparently Kirby isn't qualified to sell a home deep in the Hood. The Asset Manager kindly explained to me I needed an agent who was more familiar with "this type of neighborhood."

Now, before we go any further, the idea that a real estate agent is some sort of "neighborhood specialist" is really a load of marketing pap. Yes, you might read some article on "How to Choose a Real Estate Agent" on a random Yahoo site, but the truth is, a "neighborhood specialist" really means someone who sells more homes in one area. These agents Google the same information a non-neighborhood specialist Googles. An agent's true job is to work in a client's best interest--which includes negotiating price and other terms of a contract. So, essentially, any agent can be a short sale agent in any neighborhood and be quite successful at it.

And I trust Kirby.

But, that isn't what the Asset Manager was really saying. What he really meant was Kirby's skin was the wrong color for the neighborhood this home is located in. Or at least that is what I surmised. Just to be sure, I sent the e-mail to Kirby. I asked him if I was reading this correctly. He told me that was the gist he got out of it too.  And then we had a good laugh over the whole thing.

Because Kirby doesn't specialize in one particular neighborhood, he just happened to be in Calera that morning. And, he happened to be driving by my Waterford home and let me know everything looked good there. That's an added bonus that the Asset Manager would never understand.

The Pep Talk

My brothers are amazing. Simply amazing. I wish everyone had siblings like mine.

This past weekend, during a private moment, I shared our Strategic Downsizing decision with my brothers. I shared the shame I feel. I shared the uncertainty of our future. I shared the frustration and anger I have to those tenants who contributed to our ultimate decision and how I vacillate between anger to the tenants and my own underlining self-blame that I caused this situation.

These wonderful men told me they have my back. They asked what they could do to help me. They reassured me it was a strategic decision (which I know intellectually) and told me of business icons we have all heard of who have made similar choices. And, for a few minutes, they made me feel better, promising me this was not my doing. I am not the failure I have begun to think of myself as.

Then Brother #1 pointed out something I hadn't considered. Starting over isn't terrible. There was a time when my parents had to start over. My father was about the age I am now. It was 1982. My father had been out of work for two years. We lost our home in Phoenix. We moved back to my parent's hometown in Vermont and they scraped together enough to live in a 100 year old, 800 square foot rickety home in the middle of the slums. As I slept in the attic room, I could hear the critters scraping in the walls at night. My source of warmth in that room was a waterbed with a heater I kept on high. I owned one pair of pants and had to wear an ugly orange ski jacket to school because someone had given it to me, and the alternative was no jacket in a Vermont winter.

My folks pulled out of this, moved back to Phoenix and got back on track. And then years later there was a divorce. And they started over again and pulled out of that too. 

For Marty Sunshine and I, starting over won't be this dramatic. I hope. Brother #1 pointed out that my father has had a comfortable retirement for the past sixteen years. He also said, "Dad got back on his feet and he doesn't have even half the drive you and Marty have."

At this moment, I feel like we are fine-tuning our strategic downsizing. Will it be one or all we loose? Can we straighten this out in one year? Will we loose everything? Will we file bankruptcy? One of the asset managers told me a few weeks ago, that we are going to have a hard time convincing the banks we mean business when our credit has been so good for so long. Essentially, we can expect this to be an uphill battle.

I am ready for a new season in my life. The accidental business has worn me down. I asked for this downsizing years ago, and it took this long to convince Mr. Partner to do so. I am tired.

But my brothers are right, I have a lot of life left to live. And I am ready for a new adventure.

The Top Ring of Deadbeat Hell

One of the biggest concerns I had when we decided to "strategically downsize" was that the creditors would start calling. I didn't want them to talk with my children.

It is fair to say I had a right to be concerned. The calls come. Sometimes--like this past Friday--six times in one day. I have had to tell these folks, whose first language is obviously not American English, not to call me before 8 a.m. I have repeatedly told them not to call my cell phone (which is my work phone). And every time they call, I explain I have already spoken to asset managers. That seems to confuse them, as one man confessed, he had never heard of an "asset manager" and was pretty sure his company didn't have anyone in that position.

Generally the calls go like this,

Them: "Is this Marty Sunshine?"
Me: "No."
Them: "Is this Mrs. Marty Sunshine?"
Me: "Can I help you?
Them: "I am Some Random Person from the mortgage company. Would you please verify your social security number?"

At which point, I seem to throw them off their script. My former answer was, "No. I will not." The person on the other end would then explain that they can't continue the call until I give them my social security number. "That's fine. You called me. If you can't continue the call, I have other things to do anyway. Please have an asset manager call me," I will say, and they get confused all over again.

Friday I tried a new strategy. When asked what my social security number is, I said, "Why don't you give me your social security number instead?" Apparently the woman on the other end of the call found that utterly unacceptable. When I pointed out the irony, she wasn't impressed and hung up me.

Friday afternoon, after my sixth call, I e-mailed two asset managers (of the three we are dealing with), asking them to call off their goons. Loosing homes is humiliating enough. I don't wish to be reminded I am a deadbeat every day, six times a day.

The Last Six Weeks

About 40 years ago, Marty Sunshine's parents saved every last penny they had, shoved their five kids into the 1963 Ford Falcon station wagon, left their single-wide, which is (still) located 50 miles North of the US-Mexico boarder in the middle of nowhere, and traipsed over to that great amusement park in Anaheim for a vacation of a lifetime.

As the story goes--and I have confirmation from Marty and three of his siblings (the youngest was still a baby and didn't remember)--about an hour after arriving at said theme park, Marty's father came down with a case of the stomach flu and instead of letting his wife and children enjoy their day, he insisted they all leave, hang out at the hotel while he threw up and then promptly drove them home the next morning.

And thus, a life-long obsession was born.

Looking back now, I realize how much more simple and cheaper therapy might have been. Instead, Marty's (and now my children's) idea of a vacation involves Walt and the Mouse. I have fought this for years and finally decided:

1) my kids like it, we all have a good time, they won't be little much longer and there really is something magical about going into the Happiest Place on Earth for days on end,

2) as long as the trip is paid for ahead of time (generally with the commission from my most obnoxious client at the time--this year it was a Canadian couple who got a sweetheart of a home, $70k under market and then proceeded to tell me how "incompetent" I was--even though they wouldn't have gotten this home without me because it wasn't on the market) and in no way does any of it go on the credit card I will be somewhat ok and

3) Marty's Uncle Sunshine lives on this really cool island off the Gulf coast of Florida. Seeing him, the island and having a place on the beach to unwind and relax isn't all bad and makes up for the over-commercialization of Orlando.

When we set up this vacation, we were somewhat strategic. We knew it could very likely be our last big vacation for a while. When one is in the midst of financial ruin, a lot of things get to be put on hold--like vacations.

The major byproduct of this trip was that I was able to relax, something honest and brave friends told me (repeatedly) this past spring I needed to do. Loosing homes is not very relaxing. In fact, it is very stressful. How do people purposely not pay their bills? I will never know. I have spoken to many folks over the years who didn't pay me what they rightfully owed and didn't blink twice. Some told me I was a "nice" person as they personally stole from, as if sweet-talking will somehow make their debt magically disappear. After the last six weeks of fielding calls from mortgage companies, I can assure you, it doesn't work that way.

Our vacation ended three weeks ago. I am no longer relaxed, though I am not as crazed as I was back in early April. However, I am stressed. Even baseball isn't comforting.

In an effort to diffuse the monumental pressure I am feeling, I am caving. With the exception of very few and select people, I am keeping to myself. My social anxiety is running rampant. I am staying off Facebook completely because reading my cousin's excessive posts--even from 3,000 miles away--about how she has a new haircut, how much she loves children and how she needs urgent prayers for her neighbor's puppy even stresses me out.

I am not making apologies for staying away from others. My true friends understand this is what I do when I have had enough life in my day. Extreme caving is a new sort of self preservation, but it is keeping me able to function in my daily life. And that is necessary because my real estate clients truly don't understand or appreciate "caving." I need a balance.

That said, we are entering a new season of our Accidental Business. What it will look like a year from now, I do not know. I do know Marty and I have a new business we wish to pursue in the next three or four years--depending upon how long it takes to clean up our current mess. But for now, the Alabama homes are still around, whether or not I like them to be. And I have to learn to cope with this new normal, because I can't vacation forever.