Ok, I'm A Little Crazy

Mr. Ex-Partner e-mailed me today. He wanted Legal Owl's information. He did not ask for an introduction. I did not offer one either.

Though this may seem mundane, I have to tell you, it is about once a week Mr. Ex-Partner asks me for something I have already given him. In this case, I knew darn well he had Legal Owl's information. I know he has e-mailed her last summer (because he cc'd me). And I legitimately believe he doesn't realize he has this information.

He also doesn't believe he has the financials for the first and second quarter of 2015. He does--and so does his accountant because he filed his 2015 taxes earlier this year. He misplaced Mario's phone number at one point--though he e-mailed me for it, and cc'd Mario. I am sure if he just Googled Mario's name or company he could have found it quicker. And the list goes on. Even with my zen filing methods I am better organized than this.

Sometimes when he sends me an e-mail asking for what I know I have given him I just reforward the last e-mail with the information once again. At first, he was humble and contrite, thanking me and acknowledging that he probably should have looked on his own. Lately however, he doesn't respond. Which is ok. I don't take it personally. It gives me blog fodder, no matter how mundane.

When I was writing our dissolution agreement, Mr. Ex Partner wanted me to put in the document about how I would be of "assistance" to the Ex-Partners in perpetuity. I promise, that clause isn't in there because I am not crazy.

Lost

We are in the process of shutting down our accidental business. I am told this entire ordeal could take as long as six more years to complete or as little as we could be done by the end of 2017 (but no sooner than then).

Closing down a business is not just as simple as hanging up a "gone fishing" sign and locking the door. For one thing, the IRS wants to be involved. And so does the state of Alabama. The State of Arizona has already been involved--and they drove me nuts. There are lots of items that need some attention, but not the kind of laser-focus I have had to give to everything prior.

Then there is letting all of the homes go. Right now we have a house for sale. As they empty we sell.

There is also the emotional aspect of releasing all I have done for the past 14 years. Coupling this with not home schooling and the fact I am not currently working (another story) and I am struggling to find my place in all this. I am lost.

Last summer Bliz asked me what I was going to do with all my spare time. The truth is, her question scared me. I still don't know.

Random Bama

We have an offer on our Grayson Valley home. Currently, we are in the inspection phase, which is when these folks usually walk. Generally they find some minor infraction, like the floors aren't wood. Or it needs a stove (thank you stupid former tenant for taking the stove). Mind you, they are getting an investor price on this house. I am not fixing it up and selling it for retail.

Lest you think I'm being cynical, this this has  been what has happened at the last two times I have tried to sell a home over there. The one I had for sale this summer had an offer and the folks backed out because (at $98k--another investor price) it didn't have granite counter tops.

________________________________________

This past week I got the tax bills for the homes in Birmingham. It is with my greatest pleasure I can send these directly over to Mr. Ex-Partner. Every year he has bitched and moaned about how we ask for money to pay the taxes. I want to say, "I told you so." But frankly, I have been kind of saying this in my head since July.

________________________________________

Yesterday I got a text from a former tenant in Birmingham. It went to me directly, not a group of people. All it said was, "Roll Tide."

When *!@$*&^ Just Doesn't Seem to Cover It

In Other News...

I heard from Polly's history teacher this week. Polly, in a moment of adolescent frustration, said to her teacher, "bless your heart."

It turns out Polly's teacher was born and raised in the South and knew exactly what Polly meant.

There's A Hole In The Hot Water Heater, Dear Flunky, A Hole

Backstory: Yesterday I got a note from Kirby, my HVAC guy, former property manager and real estate agent (and mind you, one of the few people in Birmingham who is not allergic to work). Anyhoo... he heard from Flunky the Asshat--the maintenance manager of MY CURRENT property management company. Flunky didn't call me. He called Kirby.

It appears there is some sort of water issue at the Waterford home and Flunky, the genius he is, sends an HVAC guy out to see why--and I am not making this up--water is leaking from the hot water heater. To be fair, I am no rocket scientist, but I can pretty much guarantee if I hear water is leaking from the hot water heater the person I would contact (after telling the owner) would be a plumber. But that's just me. Apparently Flunky understands the subtle nuances of property management maintenance about this better than I do. Why else would he send an air conditioner repair person out to fix a hot water heater?

Kirby, bless him, wrote a very nice e-mail to both Flunky and myself saying that he concurs with the tenant: it appears in his professional estimation the issue is with the hot water heater. And because he is a gentleman, he thanked Flunky for the opportunity to help, but in this case this issue is just not in the scope of what he does for a living, so he will have to pass.

And Flunky? What did he do? Flunky followed up with me in a short, yet terse, e-mail and said if there was something I needed, to let him know. Yeppers. There was no, "I will call a plumber immediately and get this fixed," or anything of that nature. Nope. Nothing. The the rest of the correspondence with Flunky went something like this.

At any rate, in the end, I sent I highly-edited e-mail to Flunky asking him (after an insane back and forth) to please call a plumber. Because it appeared Flunky just wasn't going to think of this all by himself.

When "Bless Your Heart" Just Doesn't Cover It

So the house in Grayson Valley was vacated by now-former tenants with anger issues. The way the law works is the property management, on the day they find out the tenants have moved, are to put a abandonment notice on the door. After that time, the home is mine. I am still waiting for that notice, but it hasn't come. I gave up and decided to roll the dice and see if the tenants will sue me instead.

Last Wednesday, I had the place cleaned out, the lawn mowed and took the house out of management. I wrote Luigi and Flunky, stating now that they have professionally taken care of the abandonment notice, I was pulling the home out of management and was going to sell it. Kirby would be by to pick up the keys. Luigi, who is apparently clueless to what his employees are doing, didn't see the dripping sarcasm. Flunky the Asshat didn't bother to answer.

Over the weekend Kirby showed up at the Grayson Valley home to assess what it would take to sell the place. He told me the locks have now been changed and there is a lock box on the door. Seriously? The property management company couldn't  be bothered for six weeks to check on this house to verify the status of the tenants, but they can--right after I take the house out of management, mind you--hop on over and change the locks.

Yesterday I sent a note to Flunky, reminding him that his company doesn't manage this home anymore, there is no reason to have the keys changed and a lock box, and by the way, what is the combination so Kirby can get in the house?

And what did Flunky do? He wrote me (and cc'd Kirby, my real estate agent) the following e-mail:

Please have your handyman return the lockbox to our office.

Yep, he wrote that. He expects my "handyman" to just jump on this, drive over to my house, take the lock box off and then drive 30 miles to their office and hand over a $20 piece of hardware.

It took every ounce of self control I had not to contact Flunky and tell him what I thought of his solution.

Instead, I wrote Kirby. I said, as my real estate agent, he was bound by fiduciary law to obey all relevant and reasonable requests I give. In this case, he was not, under any circumstances, to touch that lock box. If the property management company wants it, they can go pick it up. I also said a lot of things I thought about Flunky the Asshat, all of which Kirby had heard before and also knew to be true.

Kirby wrote me back with simply, "No worries, your handyman won't touch it either."

Vermin

So, the house in Grayson Valley came vacant. The super-classy tenants just took off one day and left half of their crap behind. When the house came vacant, I decided to sell it if I can. Our business is changing and hanging on to homes is not where I see my immediate future. So, Kirby went over. He also took one look at the place, shook his head and quickly backed out the door.

The tenants left a good portion of their worldly belongings--which will hopefully go to good use for someone. But not the turtle in the garage. Sadly, with the Alabama heat and humidity, and being trapped in a cage for six weeks, the poor thing just didn't make it. But sadly, that wasn't the only critters to be found.

According to Baseball Guy, he found a snake skin in the attic. I was preferring to think of it as someone's fishnet stocking, and probably would have gone along thinking that, if Carolsue hadn't found "evidence of snakes" in the garage. There was also "evidence" of other critters too, such as rats.

In addition to the critters, the former tenant (who happens to be an NFL player), bashed in the master bedroom door and the door frame is in splinters. In my experience, when I see door jambs in splinters like this, I think of domestic violence. That could not have been a happy home. But it looks like the worst of the vermin have left.

And When I Say...

I have hired the "best property management company in Birmingham," you know that's tongue and cheek? Right? Well, partially.

Actually, Luigi's company, when I first started working with them WERE the best property management company I could find. Actually, Kirby's company was the best, but he wisely bailed, because property management sucks. I know this first-hand. I also know what it takes to manage rental homes. I do this for a living. And before I went to work for a property management company, I managed these gazillion homes. I gave them to Kirby.

Over the course of the life of this accidental business, I have hired, and fired, several property management companies. In one case, the Alabama Attorney General got involved. I have also personally interviewed the majority of the other property management companies in Birmingham. All were pleased to see me, as I had a nice, fat book of business to offer them. But when all is said in done, none of them did business the way I did business.

Most of the property management companies I spoke with made it a policy--and they did this without blinking--to just hand the keys to a home to prospective tenants, let them see the place and then trust them to lock everything up, not steal the copper, appliances or vandalize and bring the keys back. If you want to take a moment to read that again, I understand. Take your time. It blows my mind too. Anyway, I didn't hire those companies.

Mario's property management company wasn't too bad, except they were expensive and they expected me to spend lots of time on the computer watching videos of how they operated and required me to get questions answered by logging into a portal that needed some sort of wonky password I could never remember. Usually my questions could not be answered by a computer anyway, so I still had to hunt someone down, explain to them I already looked on their FAQ list (which I probably didn't) and then just say, "While we are on the phone anyway, why not just answer my question." Mario and I also got off to a really bad start. We are ok now, but I haven't forgotten that the first time I gave him direction, he said, "Why don't you go ask your husband what you should do and call me back." I would be willing to bet he hasn't forgotten the earful he got for that one.

When I hired Luigi's company, I specifically asked Luigi many questions. I wanted to make sure we were on the same wavelength and we conducted business the same way.  I was prepared to manage these properties myself with Carolsue's help if I didn't find a company I liked. I had done it before, I could do it again. He successfully passed muster. I gave him everything I had except Ms. Angie's home and Mrs. Sherwood's home.

Cruella Deville 

Since those days, Luigi's company is not what it used to be. I believe they have had growing pains as they have expanded and branched out. That always comes with awkward changes. Luigi gave the day to day tasks to a variety of folks who have come and gone. Ms. Amy seems to be the only constant. And, I am not a fan of her. Additionally, Flunky is also now more involved in the owner relations end of Luigi's business. Frankly, Luigi might have been better off hiring Cruella Deville instead. She is more pleasant.

At this point, I am kind of resigned. Our business is going through its own changes. I am keeping Luigi's company for now. It seems easier than spending the time, energy and effort to train a new property manager that I will probably like even less. Besides, I have a system in place if I need something from Luigi's company. I just e-mail Luigi. He then forwards the message to the appropriate party. He always cc's me, with a gentle reminder that I should go to the right person to get what I need done. I guess what he doesn't realize, is that he is the "right" person.

The Answer Is Probably No

It may sound uncharitable, but I immensely dislike Flunky the Asshat. I am doing my best to hide my true feelings when I talk with him, but he doesn't make it easy. For example, the folks in Fultondale have some sort of dishwasher issue.

On July 27, 2016 Flunky sent me an e-mail asking what should he do?

I immediately wrote him back and said, "We can resolve this in a five minute phone call. Please call me when you have a moment." Experience tells me an e-mail exchange will take a week and he won't answer my questions: are the folks up to date on the rent, what exactly is wrong with the dishwasher and how expensive is this fix? As soon as he calls me, he will know my answer.

On Sunday, September 4, 2016 I got my first response from Flunky about this matter. He said: "Sorry that I have not been able to call you about this. Please let me know if you will replace the dishwasher."

As soon as he calls me, he will know my answer.

#TeamTrashed Won

Turns out my home that the former NFL football player left is more in shambles than I hoped. I don't have the money to fix this place up and sell it. Yes, yes. I know. I can sue. I don't really have the money for that either.

And by the way, the reason I know this isn't because Flunky the Asshat promptly ran over and told me. It is because Kirby swung by and took a gander. He also took several pictures. If you are in the neighborhood, he left some pretty sweet stuff behind.

I hate people today.

It Means SHE DOESN'T LIVE THERE ANY MORE

There are things which are morbidly funny to me. I have a warped sense of humor--especially for the irreverent. I have not stopped chuckling since Mrs. Roebuck and I spoke earlier this week. For those of you unfamiliar with the ongoing saga of Mr. Ex-Partner and Mrs. Roebuck, you can read about it here and here. It will save me the twelve paragraphs of backstory. I promise you, it is worth it.

I can wait. Take your time...

Ok, for those of you who detest clicking on other links, the simplified backstory goes like this: for years, the Ex-Partners and the Sunshines had a hard-to-rent home in a questionable neighborhood. We all agreed to let Mrs. Roebuck live there for some shamelessly low rental rate. She could afford as much as she was paying and she took care of the property, which is more than we can say for some of the previous tenants. Four days after Mr. Ex-Partner started managing his own properties, he and Mrs. Roebuck came to blows with Mrs. Roebuck summarily moving out. Mr. Ex-Partner came to me and said, "Why would she leave???"

She left because he was rude, uncharitable and obnoxious. Perhaps not in that order--but I wasn't there. My answer was simply, "I don't know, why don't you call her?"

What made me laugh so hard (and I still am) is that last week Mr. Ex-Partner e-mailed Mrs. Roebuck and said something along the lines of, "For a $50 increase in the rent you were once paying, I will let you move back in. What do you think?"

Mrs. Roebuck didn't think much of it. She has already moved. She has a new place to live. She has paid movers, utility companies and all other subsequent fees which come with a life transition. She has changed her mail. She has changed her insurance. But because he asked, she said if he paid all of the necessary costs to move once again, she would consider it. As of this writing, she hadn't heard back if he would play.

However, he did send another note to her, completely bypassing her answer and suggesting if she took care of a simple maintenance issue or two at her former home, he would trade that for one month's rent.

"What rent?" was her response. Mrs. Roebuck then reiterated. She doesn't live there any more and their relationship is over. Apparently he still isn't fully comprehending what "moving out" means.

#TeamSell

Lately every decision made in the ole' accidental business seems to be made by committee. I was grumbling to Marty Sunshine about this today. I want to sell my now-vacant home. Can I?

I sent out feelers to the Arizona lawyer for her opinion. I then sent out a note to Diamond Jim. Would it be ok to sell? Or would it be a huge tax consequence? Then I contacted Kirby and asked him for his counsel.

Marty Sunshine says this is why we hired these folks--to protect us. To me, it just takes longer and usually has the same result as if we had made the decisions ourselves.

For the record, Diamond Jim, Marty and I want to sell. Kirby is all for that, but then again he benefits if it sells. The tie-breaker is the attorney. She gets five votes.

Things that Make My Eye Twitch

It isn't that I expected more from the guy renting my Grayson Valley home, but he could have--I don't know--given notice before skipping out. But I expect that of anyone renting.  Then again, the people in the South are big on boasting to everyone about how great their manners are--even though most of them have never uttered "please" and "thank you" unless their mother was standing over them.

It isn't that I expected more from the "best property management company" in Birmingham (they are the best--if that tells you something) but I am not quite sure why Flunky, et. al., couldn't be bothered to investigate why rent wasn't coming in sooner and not wait until I had to light a fire under their collective asses.

When Flunky e-mailed me today and announced, "Rent is late," I asked if he had bothered to contact the tenants. "We have been trying," was his super-professional response. When I asked if anyone had bothered to go out to the property, he didn't respond. Later he e-mailed me and said Mr. Former Tenant texted him back. Guess what?! They moved about six weeks ago.

Our Own National Holiday

The Most Charming Little Town in America

As you three readers may be aware, August 24 is a special holiday around these parts. It is the birthday of my dear friend and bookkeeper Bliz.

Happy Birthday!

Bliz and I have been friends since our hair was its natural color. We have laughed together, cried together and have even gone on some fabulous trips through various corners of the United States together. Not only that, she willingly holds my hand during take-off and landings when we travel (because I am not a good airline passenger). And--to tell you what a great friend she truly is--she patiently waited, without one complaint, while I played street chess with an Israeli-Spaniard named Levi last year when we went to New England.

In the time I have known her, Bliz has introduced me to Imagine Dragons, eye liner and amaretto sours. She keeps me laughing and offers sage advice when I am at my lowest. I have never known someone so thoughtful, patient and caring as Bliz. Ever. I honestly don't think I would have survived this accidental business without her.

Bliz, Congratulations on your recent trip around the sun. Here's to many more.

S--

Rejected

Well now, I thought we were done. I turned in the former LLC's dissolution form to the Arizona Secretary of State's office back in June. And wouldn't you know it? They sent it back with the word, "Rejected" on it. That hardly seems fair. I am done. Done with partnerships. Done with LLCs, and yet the Arizona Secretary of State's office feels otherwise.

In their pre-printed letter, they said--and I am not making this up: "The document must be signed by a member of the LLC." Frankly, I thought I might actually be qualified under their definition. In fact, I am pretty sure I have the Articles of Organization to show I was not only a member, but the Managing Member. You would think that would give me some street cred, but nope. Not with a government bureaucracy.

Today I spent 29 minutes and 42 seconds on hold to ask someone in the Arizona Secretary of State's office what exactly they mean by rejecting this dissolution. Perhaps they simply didn't understand what "dissolution" meant?

The very nice lady on the phone looked up my file. She then told me I have to check some box in the corner of this document that says I am a member of this LLC and just re-send it. I don't need to provide a photo ID. I don't need to give them a blood sample. By checking the box, they will just take my word for it. When I asked her exactly why was the box on the form to begin with, as there is some sort of verbiage that says, "By signing this document you ensure you are a member of this LLC," she didn't have an answer. No matter. As soon as I get those documents to the Arizona Secretary of State's office, we will then be done. I hope.

Speaking of Property Management

Legal Owl sent me an e-mail this morning. She has a client who is looking for a good property management company. Who could I recommend? I am wondering which one of us is supposed to charge the other $200 an hour for this information.

We Assume This Means We Are Keeping Buckaroo, Too

You may remember, this past week I wrote about the bank that called our second mortgage due and refused to work with us? Months ago they threatened all sorts of shenanigans, including a wage garnishment and selling my first born for slave labor if we didn't play by their rules. And oh yes. They would be foreclosing.

Two events happened this week that kind of threw us for a loop. First, we received a letter from some law firm in Birmingham offering to do a deed in lieu of foreclosure. All they needed was "our cooperation," but didn't elaborate. However, they are asking us to sign a deed in lieu of foreclosure. For those of you who aren't familiar with a deed in lieu, it means the bank gets the house back and we walk away with only our credit destroyed. No liens. No garnishments. No take-backs. And, I even get to keep Polly, which works for me.

Once we received the letter, we scratched our heads for an hour or so and then sent it to my Arizona lawyer for her opinion. After all, we aren't completely sure of their terms. The lawyer said if they are truly willing to do a deed in lieu, we should--which is a no-brainer for us. However, this is complete 180 from the treatment we have been getting from them for the past two years. And pardon me for saying so, I'm suspicious.

Which brings me to today. Because I have my gazillion rental homes registered on Zillow to watch, I got an e-mail alert. Apparently, this home was sold at auction a month ago. And, it was sold for about what we owed. Now, I don't know exactly how Zillow's database works, but if someone really bought that property for anywhere near what Zillow is saying they purchased it for, they were ripped off. And, I think I know a few things about pricing homes.

Additionally, and this is kind of minor under the circumstances, but we weren't notified that the foreclosure was taking place at all. In our experience (of the one home this happened with prior) we were actually told via certified letter, US Post Office letter, carrier pigeon and hologram. There was no word this time. In fact, I just checked on the Jefferson County's tax assessor site. Yep, it sold. So it looks like Polly is sticking around for sure.

Six Weeks

Mr. Ex-Partner made it six weeks. I am about to write an into letter to Mario for him. When Mr. Ex-Partner contacted me this morning, he said, "I will follow your rules."

Sweetie. These aren't my rules.

Yes, Yes He Did

Mr. Ex-Partner sent me an e-mail this morning asking for my advice.

It was early. I didn't have my reading glasses on. I only glanced at the e-mail on my phone. But the words were unmistakable, "Your assistance in helping me with this matter would be greatly appreciated."

The matter at hand, was his own doing. I already knew the ins and outs, but did not tell him so. You see, Mrs. Roebuck, who has been living at one of our homes (with Mr. Ex-Partner's blessing) was paying less-than-market rent.

Once he went solo, he wrote Mrs. Roebuck an abrupt e-mail saying something along the lines of "I expect you to cough up more money if you want to live here." Of course he didn't call her, introduce himself, ask her to explain her situation, show any amount of interest at all in why she was paying less-than-market rent (which he knew why, but still!). Nope. Six days into being my ex-partner, he pushed. I know this because it was Mrs. Roebuck who immediately contacted me. What was going on? There was an agreement in place?? Why was he doing this?

Fast forward a month. Mrs. Roebuck and Mr. Ex-Partner had another disagreement last week. Fortunately, I only heard about it second hand from Mrs. Roebuck (who apparently called him a coward for not actually picking up the phone and calling her if he has a problem, but whatever). Anyway, Mrs. Roebuck told Mr. Ex-Partner, she was moving. She would be gone by next week and she would leave the key.

When Mr. Ex-Partner contacted me this morning in a mild panic, he told me basically he was bluffing. He would be willing to let Mrs. Roebuck stay if she would just pay a teensy bit more (which he never mentioned to her this expectation). Heck! He said he would even let her stay for what she was paying now. I honestly was not sure what I could do at this point. He just lost a good tenant for a hard-to-rent home. And he didn't have to.

What I did do was tell Mr. Ex-Partner, contact Mario (he has already burned the bridge with Luigi, and there are so few reasonable property management companies in Birmingham). I offered again to send an introduction e-mail for him if he was interested. I told Mr. Ex-Partner Mario will shoot straight. He will tell the truth. And even if he doesn't hire Mario, they can at least have a conversation so Mr. Ex-Partner will know what is what (and hear it from someone other than me).

In addition--and only because he asked for my help--I told him if I make this introduction, Mario's name is "Mr. Property Management Owner" until Mr. Ex-Partner is told otherwise. I also said Mr. Ex-Partner is to mind his Ps and Qs and realize not all money is created equal, especially Yankee money. In fact, until he has some credibility, consider himself an outsider--because he is one.

If I were to wager, I would say that Mr. Ex-Partner will completely ignore the advice he asked for. And a month later we will have the same conversation again.

Pam and Murray

So Murray and Pam, a retired couple, have rented a home from Mitch and Tanya--the world's most fabulous landlords and friends. The house is located in Gilbert, a suburb of the greater Phoenix area. Frankly, they are lucky to have this place. Rentals right now in the area, especially in Gilbert, are scooped up the day they go on the market. This one included. If I had listed it for rent, there would have been ten applications on this super-clean, well-cared for place in the first 24 hours.

When Murray and Pam looked at the home, they chatted merrily with Mitch, Tanya and me. They mentioned how handy they are. How they will take great care of the place. How responsive they are and rent will never be late. They also looked good on paper, so a lease was created.

Since then, these folks have driven me batty and I am not even involved. First, they wanted to move in early. That doesn't work when the tenants who ARE LIVING THERE aren't moving out until the end of the month. That didn't stop Murray and Pam from asking. And asking. And hinting. And asking again. Somehow they could not fully comprehend THERE IS SOMEONE LIVING IN THIS HOUSE WHO HAS EVERY LEGAL RIGHT TO DO SO EVEN THOUGH YOU WANT TO MOVE. Ask all they wanted, they had to wait. And wait they did. In fact, the keys went to my office and Murray and Pam had to pick them up there.

I would like to tell you that wasn't an ordeal, but no. I was in San Diego and I got a call from Pam. Where exactly is my office? I gave her the address. However, she explained, as if I was a toddler needing to be told for the third time I cannot have a cookie, she has my address. She simply can't find my office. It turns out she didn't bother to drive another mile--as she admitted the GPS told her to do so. It was at that point, I decided these folks are too helpless for their own good. What would they have done if I hadn't answered my phone? I would hope they would have followed the GPS, but I suspect they would have called Mitch and Tanya (who don't live in Arizona) and asked them for directions.

This past week, Tanya asked me where she could find a washer repair person for Murray and Pam. That struck me as strange for two reasons. First, I was pretty sure Pam mentioned they were bringing in their own appliances and second Pam and Murray made a complete episode about the fact Murray was super-handy and they would never need to ask for anything.

But that's not all. Not only did they want the washing machine fixed, they wanted it fixed that day. Therefore, could Tanya stop everything she is doing and find someone right now. Why? Because they were leaving for vacation (ah... the reason for an early move-in) and didn't want anyone going into "their home" while they are gone. Tough. With a two-day notice Mitch and Tanya can have anyone they like go into that property and Pam and Murray would just have to deal.

Tanya has indicated they have asked for a few other things too. I don't know how much of this bugs Mitch and Tanya, but it bothers me a lot. Tenants who have a sense of entitlement are high on my pet peeve list. I understand it is stressful to move. I understand there are schedules, and deadlines. But come on tenants! Figure some of this out yourself. You aren't the only ones out there who have jobs (which Pam and Murray do not), a life or deadlines. I fully understand there is a contract in place too. But nowhere in this contract does is say Mitch and Tanya have to kowtow to a tenant's whims. Additionally, this isn't an inclusive resort. It is a home.

My experience is that those who squawk up front tend to calm down and be wonderful tenants. The other kind are those who squawk and can't figure things out for themselves up front also tend to whine and use up all of their goodwill in the first few weeks of the lease. I am hoping for everyone's sake, Pam and Murray calm down.

Let the Fun Begin

You three readers may recall, I have a home in some state of foreclosure limbo. Two years ago the bank called the second mortgage due (was it two years ago, really?) and then played games with us when we tried to renegotiate. This went on for six months, with them making empty promises and us begging them to fix this.

There was no reason to call the loan due. Everything was always paid on time. I still do not understand why the did it. While we were negotiating they would ask for updated financial statements once a week. They would want Bliz and Diamond Jim to sign these financial statements (which was silly because our books change once a month when we pay the bills). They asked for mountains of redundant paperwork. And then, they asked for my daughter's bank account information. That's where we drew the line.

Halfway through this nightmare, the tenant in the home moved out. She left it in reasonable shape, but to make it ready to move in always has a cost. We didn't' want to make it ready, not knowing whether or not the bank would work with us. After all, why paint and spiffy just to have the bank snatch it from us.

By the time we ran out of money and patience was precisely the same moment the Asset Manager called me and said, "Guess what! We approved your loan" (that you didn't need to disapprove six months earlier). it was too bad. his timing couldn't have been worse. For the first time ever, we didn't have a mortgage payment. I told him so too. Sadly, he didn't believe us. During that phone call he actually pulled up Marty's credit and said to me, "If your credit is so good, why are you telling me you can't pay this loan." Guess what, it is more than a year later, and Marty's credit isn't so good now.

That was April 2015. Through some negotiation, the Asset Manager did agree to let us short sell. By July we had brought him six full price cash offers, all of which the bank rejected. We then asked if we could do a deed in lieu of foreclosure. This guy actually responded with, "I don't know how to do this," and then sent us a letter saying no.

So the home sat vacant. Once in a while we would hear from someone at the bank. Marty Sunshine even talked to their lawyer once who didn't believe our story until she called the Asset Manager for herself and was floored when he confirmed our allegations. The lawyer told Marty in confidence this was all the bank's fault, but there was nothing we could do about it now.

Last February the Asset Manager shluffed us off to some no-nonsense pit bull who told Marty if we didn't pay up immediately they would foreclose, sue us, attach a lien to our rental homes and garnish his wages. That is all standard of course with a foreclosure, but it didn't change matters. Marty told her there was nothing we could do anymore. And that is the absolute truth. The woman promised--promised--we would be sued (and loose) by June. So far, nothing has happened.

And that was the last we heard from her until yesterday. To be fair, my name and contact information is not on this mortgage. Other than the one call to the Asset Manager early on, nobody at this bank has been willing to speak with me in any way, shape or form when I called to negotiate. Only Marty.

So, imagine my surprise when my cell phone rang yesterday and it was that woman from last February. The woman called, told me she had been talking to Marty recently (news to him) and was in the process of telling me all sorts of ugly things about threatening to foreclose when I cut her off. I told her I was with someone (Marty) and I would call her back. And then I hung up and blocked her number like a big fat coward. The woman has not called my home number since nor Marty's cell number.

I am guessing I didn't win any friends with my uncouth move. I panicked, I admit it. Now because I didn't speak to her, we are closer than ever to a foreclosure notice. At least it will come to an end sooner than later.

The Harsh Truth

In the first 26 days of July, and that is when I stopped counting, Mr. Ex-Partner managed to not only annoy six people, he alienated them too. I know this because they all came straight to me. And to be fair, it wasn't six people, it was at least seven if you count myself. Managing a small, accidental business from 1,700 miles away isn't impossible. But it takes a lot of relationship building. It took me years to fine-tune those relationships and him less than a month to undo it all.

Conducting business of any sort in the South it isn't just about finding reliable vendors, it is about finding people who trust outsiders. There were many, many people along the way who questioned my pedigree. The obvious first question was why buy homes in Birmingham (because at the time there was a shortage of rentals in Birmingham and I could get them for less than $100,000 and still get more than 1 percent rent of the sales price in rent and that wasn't possible to do in the Arizona market)? When I managed to satisfy the passing curiosity of even the least intrusive stranger, I was then asked how was I related to the South. At first I answered with I had no ties, only to find out how far my answer took me. Once I was able to say (though it has absolutely no bearing on why I had rental homes in the South), I had family in South Carolina and my Mother-In-Law was from Texas, I was marginally accepted but still had to go through a warped vetting process I still don't quite  understand.

Additionally, to do business in the South, not only does one need to be at least a quasi-Southerner, but they must also know someone who is willing to vouch for them. Think of it as a surreal fraternity/sorority Rush Week. In fact, I once met someone on the airplane on my trip back to Phoenix who knew my then-attorney (Legal Eagle) and that person and I still stay in touch. He is a mortgage banker. I currently don't have a need for a mortgage banker in Birmingham, but I have sent business his way and he has sent renters and referrals my way. Two of my biggest sponsors to-date have been the Late Attorney Jon (whose name can still carry some influence in the right circles) and Kirby.

All of the above is to justify my frustrations with Mr. Ex-Partner. I am vetted. I am accepted. I have passed. I know people who will vouch for my character. Heck, I even know people in Birmingham who will take my money--and believe it or not, that isn't an exaggeration. Not all money is created equal in the South.  Mr. Ex-Partner on the other hand, has managed to throw away a lot of good will and attempted to drag my name down with him. I think I am ok for the most part. Those who have come to me in the first 26 days of July, have asked me about the situation and I have explained him as a once-silent and now ex-partner. That answer seems to be acceptable.

I have asked Marty a few times if I should step in and save Mr. Ex-Partner from himself, because I am watching him implode and he doesn't even know it. Marty Sunshine's answer is constant, let him find out the harsh truth for himself.

Random Bama A Week In The Life

So I did ask Mr. Ex-Partner if he took Monday off to deal with all things Alabama. Yes, he did. But, according to him, he has it "under control" now.

__________________________________________

In a weird turn of events, I actually talked to Mario this week. It had nothing to do with Mr. Ex-Partner. Instead, I was hunting down a lease (for a home he has never managed, but that's another story). However, since I had his attention for the first time in, what? three years, I mentioned I had given his contact information to Mr. Ex-Partner. This is because our LLC is broken up and Mr. Ex-Partner has fired Luigi's company. And then Luigi fired Mr. Partner... but I digress.

I told Mario--and meant it in the nicest possible way--I thought Mario's personality would work better with Mr. Ex-Partner's. Mario would tell it like it is, even if Mr. Ex-Partner didn't want to hear it.

I explained Mr. Ex-Partner has opted to handle everything by himself, and therefore, please expect an introductory e-mail in a few weeks when Mr. Ex-Partner comes to his senses.

__________________________________________

By the way, Mario insists his prices are "no longer" as expensive as Luigi's and he sent me a rate sheet, just in case I want to come on board. No. No I don't. But I have other reasons for this.

__________________________________________

It appears the bank tried to withdraw a mortgage payment from the now defunct LLC. The account was closed, but automatically re-opens when a payment is extracted (even if it is extracted without authorization). Now the account is reopened. And the damn bank charged me NSF fees. It looks like I will be taking a day off from work myself to straighten this mess out.

Luigi's Response

I did hear from Luigi. It was a private message to only me. He has decided instead of writing up an addendum saying he will be bullied around and told how to run company that he has successfully be running for 20+ years, he will just step back, and let Mr. Ex-Partner find a company who is a better long-term fit.

However, the very next day Luigi did write to Mr. Ex-Partner with the following response. Iced tea shot out of my nose when I read this: "I think it may be in our interest to let you manage these houses."

Not well acquainted with Southern mores, Mr. Ex-Partner actually replied to this and asked "why?" I don't see Luigi answering, but if he does, I am sure it will be more blog fodder.

I already gave Mr. Ex-Partner Mario's contact info.

He's Gonna Run Out of Vacation Days if He Keeps This Up Much Longer

So Mr. Ex-Partner clearly took the day off from work on Monday to pepper the South (and me) with about six-million e-mails. I will spare you the most of them, because I like you three. But this one caught my eye. It was the first time he had ever communicated with Luigi. I will tell you this, he did use "Mr." in his introduction. So, so pleased he caught on.

Mr. Property Management Company Owner,

I am not sure that I need your services at this time. I may in the future, so I will hold on to your agreement for future reference.

I would like to know that when I do need your services, that I can get an addendum to your agreement that stipulates that NO Section 8 people would be considered for my rental properties, and that there would be a consequence for your company if you did allow someone to rent my properties under Section 8. Something to the effect that all repairs required when a Section 8 person leaves the property would be the responsibility of your company. It has been my experience that Section 8 people have no respect for a person’s property, and do not take care of it, and always leave them in a shambles. So I will not tolerate these types of people renting my properties. Let me know if this can be worked out.

Can we please translate this: You don't know me, but please be a patsy and agree to something in writing that I, as the owner, can just refuse from the get-go. After all, I have the final say in who rents my home. 

However, this wasn't the end of it. Luigi wrote him, back and said "ok, thanks for letting me know" (in response to Mr. Ex-Partner won't need his services). He did not acknowledge the remaining paragraph. About an hour later, Mr. Ex-Partner sent the following e-mail (and that reminds me, perhaps Mr. Partner could just pick up the phone once in a while and TALK to these people). I am starting to feel sorry for both of them. This was the entirety of the e-mail. 

 I might need you sooner than I thought. And more specifically what is your determination on the Section 8 Addendum that I was asking about?

I can already tell you what Luigi's "determination" of that addendum happens to be. At this time, I have not heard back from either of them. But I am sure Mr. Ex-Partner will be e-mailing me (and I am glad he isn't calling) asking why Luigi hasn't replied.

That Took A Turn

Well now, the optimism I had that Mr. Ex-Partner had learned a thing or two over the course of the last couple of weeks was squashed today when I got his e-mail. He has opted to fire Luigi's company and "manage these homes himself." Of course he added a caveat that it would be with my "recommendations."

My recommendation is not to manage them himself. And if he chooses to go this route, be sure to read the Alabama Landlord Tenant Act.

They Really Should Hire an Armadillo

In typical Alabama fashion, I am getting the runaround. Today's joy is from Luigi's property management company.

I should preface this by saying, when I proclaim Luigi's property management company is one of the best I have found in Birmingham, it isn't high praise. It is more like frustrated resignation. I work for a property management company. Up until 2012 I owned a property management company. Even if you took Luigi's best practices, they aren't nearly as good as having a attention deficit armadillo run the whole thing.

Last month, in anticipation for the LLC dissolution, I reached out to Luigi and Joe the accountant in his office. I explained this was happening. The rents for these homes go here. The rents for those homes go there. Send the corresponding statements to the right individuals. God speed.

I am pleased to say in June, the guy running the accounting department got it right. Frankly, it wasn't terribly difficult. I happen to know what software they are using. Even I can handle it--that's how simple it is.

However, there seems to have been some regression. For whatever reason, this month, the homes are once again mashed together in one report, and it was sent to me. I have't seen any of the rent money, but Mr. Ex-Partner will go to the ends of the universe to exact his revenge if one extra penny is given to me if it belongs in his account.

Last night, when I discovered this, I sent an e-mail to all the parties involved, reminding them of our changes and how they did manage this correctly last month, so why stop that level of excellence now? I also inquired about two homes that were taken out of management that are showing existing charges. Why? Why is this going on?

In Luigi's company's fashion, instead of just owning the mistakes, I have received lots of vague excuses instead. Which, at this point, does nothing to up my opinion of them. My last communication with Luigi was simply, "FIX IT." Hopefully that sums up my sentiment.

Mrs. Roebuck

There are some accidental business decisions that are based on sanity and stability and less on money. And for the record, Mr. Ex-Partner knew upfront about such decisions, was part of the decision-making process and never uttered an unkind word about any of them prior to July 1, 2016. One of these decisions will make little sense on the surface, but after doing this for more than a decade, I promise you, my conscience is clear.

Once upon a time, we bought a home--a home I really don't like and at the time was wary of. After escrow closed we found out a few things. 1) it was on a mildly busy street 2) it has one bathroom and 3) it is not in the kind of neighborhood we were led to believe it was in. A lot of our due diligence was based on the agent we hired who purposely misled us. She gave us information for us to review. However, that information was not only incorrect, it was downright dishonest. That agent has long since passed from real estate and is now ministering her loving care as a nurse somewhere. Bless her heart.

When we bought the house, the Birmingham rental market was fabulous. The price (at the time) was right. We were making a profit on this house. As soon the economy tanked, it was a different story and this home was hit the hardest. I spoke with LegalEagle at the time about the lack of misrepresentation we received. She felt we didn't stand a chance, given the market conditions at the time we purchased, the fact the home had been continually rented for years and up until then, we were making a profit. And to LegalEagle's credit she did do some research before she threw her answer at me.

When the tenant moved out in 2008, the home stayed vacant for too long. By the time we got a renter, we were mildly desperate. Mind you, in 2008 we had a 81 percent vacancy rate. So, the first folks to come along, we took. The story behind them would be legendary if I could speak freely about it. But when I finally kicked them out, they had decimated the house, committed numerous potential felonies in it and left behind a white powdery substance I had to testify about. The fact I was not given a choice about talking to a judge, had to fly to Birmingham and testify at all--and the judge cared more about the people in the home and less about the condition--should give you a grand idea of what I faced.

To put it mildly, those tenants trashed the home beyond all recognition. And given 2008 and 2009's banner years (which you can read about in the blog archives) I promise you we were out of money. Even Mr. Ex-Partner was flat.

So, along came Mrs. Roebuck. She offered to live there and fix up the home. She had a modest income and she had time. And somehow we were covering the mortgage without her payment. Additionally the LLC wasn't paying for the supplies, repairs and rehabilitation and we had a phenomenal tax break. The way we looked at it, and we were all on board, was we could put a Section 8 crack whore in there, a notorious gang member (which I think the tenants prior were) or keep it vacant. Without Mrs. Roebuck's charitable offering, the place would sit vacant and vulnerable otherwise. Essentially, Mrs. Roebuck was protecting our asset, which was better than making a profit.

The neighborhood in question, which was so-so back then, has taken a turn for the scary. There is a methadone clinic a few doors over. There is thug and gang activity. My HVAC unit was stolen, in broad daylight, twice. The second time with a locked cage wrapped around the unit. Lest you think I am exaggerating, Carolsue, who was working there last January witnessed an armed robbery right across the street.

I am going to fast forward here. Mrs. Roebuck moved out eventually. Other renters moved in and out. And most recently, the house sat vacant for almost 10 months. Additionally, against our wishes the folks at the property management company would just hand over the home's keys to "potential tenants" and tell them to go have a look (Ms. Amy lied about this, but it just so happens Carolsue was working there more than once when it happened). By the way, while Ms. Amy was just randomly handing out keys (and denying it), the home was robbed and vandalized. Again.

The property management company also assured me they would find a non-Section 8 tenant. But that wasn't going to happen either. Non-Section 8 tenants don't live in this neighborhood. So, a few months ago, long before the decision to disband, Mrs. Roebuck approached us about moving back in and paying a modest amount of rent. I ran this by everyone and it was agreed upon.

Last month when we were splitting things apart, Mr. Ex-Partner got this house. And all of the sudden the poor dear had a terrible case of selective memory. While he was looking over all of the numbers, he discovered Mrs. Roebuck was paying less-than-market rent. True. But Mrs. Roebuck was taking care of this house. She was even adding a wooden deck out back. And even better, she was not spreading a white powdery substance all over the place or potentially committing felonies. And to my knowledge, she does not belong to a gang.

But, Mr. Ex-Partner was undeterred. After all, according to Zillow (sigh) he could get more rent! And, if he talked to the property management companies they would concur, though they wouldn't mention who would be renting the place. And given two property management companies I have employed couldn't rent out the house the last four times it sat vacant (I found the renters prior to this vacancy as well) I doubt it will go well. But whatever, I have lived it, he hasn't.

Less than five days into managing this property solo Mr. Ex-Partner contacted Mrs. Roebuck and asked her for a higher rent amount. Marty Sunshine and I shook our heads. He is making a big mistake if he asks her to leave. As it turns out, Mrs. Roebuck is leaving. She has decided she doesn't want to deal with Mr. Ex-Partner and especially the shenanigans in this neighborhood anyway.

How To Speak Southern

So Mr. Ex-Partner is being blown off by Ms. Angie. In my opinion, part of the reason behind this is because he got off to a bad start with her--though I doubt he knows it. I am not saying that's the only reason, but he would have done better to pick up the phone and introduce himself than start the very first e-mail to her with "Angela, Where is my rent?"

The fact is, she owes the rent and she picked a really bad month to start this game with him. However, that's not how folks in the South see things. It is a warped logic that I can't fully grasp. But essentially manners are paramount--even when you are asking a potential deadbeat tenant for money.

Anyway, a couple of days ago, Mr. Ex-Partner sent me an e-mail asking where Ms. Angie's rent happens to be (hell if I know, she isn't my tenant) and said she is non-responsive. In a gesture of sympathy I wrote her on his behalf. I then forwarded him the e-mail. The subtext is in blue. Hopefully he caught on and will use this as a boilerplate for future written communications. With any luck, the next e-mail he cc's me on will look more acceptable.

Hey Ms. Angie, (I recognize we are not on a casual first name basis.)

How are you doing? How's the grand babies and the kids?  (We simply cannot discuss the reason for this e-mail until the formalities are out of the way, even if you are telling a convicted murderer he is sentenced to death. For example, "Mr. Murderer, How is your cell? Comfortable? I hope you slept well last night.... Now then, the jury got together and decided they just couldn't see their way to let you walk for this one..." )

Mr. Ex (You don't know him, but he is a nice, mostly harmless kind of fellow therefore he is "Mr." and his first name.) said you are struggling with the rent this month  (you haven't paid and frankly, you gave a seriously lame reason why). I am sorry to hear that (bless your heart). He is a good guy, but a serious stickler on communication so please be sure to stay in touch with him (Have you lost your mind!? Don't make him hunt you down!). You have been there too long to throw it all away now (and he will kick your butt to the street and not look back) and you have worked too hard! (How long have you been there? He has no loyalty. Take this seriously you are days from eviction.)

My best to you and yours, (Seriously, CALL HIM!)

Your Former Landlord (It is ok to call me by my first name because this is just a friendly missive. Do note the lack of Mrs. or Ms.)

Ps. Don't forget to send me grand baby pictures some time. (I like the grand baby pictures.) 

Say Anything

If you asked me last week, I would have said I half expected Mr. Ex-Partner to be under my window, holding a boom box, blasting a Peter Gabriel song. Every day, I would get either a cc'd e-mail from him to one of the tenants, or a note to me with some sort of tid-bit I did not need to know. For example, he wrote me last week to inform me he paid his bills. I read the e-mail twice, wondering if this was just general information or if he wanted a pat on the back. The remainders of his e-mails were veiled complaints about how much "work" running an accidental business happens to be and how "difficult."

Fortunately my level of apathy is running high and I just didn't have anything useful to say, so I didn't. As I have done this for years, with no mentorship and no guidance and had to figure everything out on my own, I have little sympathy for him.

Somehow I managed to channel my lack of concern because it appears Mr. Ex-Partner has changed his tune. Yesterday, in a move that did more to annoy me than anything else, he wrote Bliz and cc'd me, saying he no longer needed her services, so hurry up and finish the books. Other than the fact he blew off Bliz (I got your back, Sis), he told her the reason he did this was because he has taken on too much debt. It is lucky for him I live across town because I became unglued. Seriously, "too much debt?" Where has he been?

Mr. Ex-Partner also wrote me personally saying he would be using his own accountant from now on and Diamond Jim was no longer going to be employed. Again, I am not sure why I needed this nugget, but that works for me. I am sure Diamond Jim (who referred to him only as "Mr. Manners") will be doing cartwheels when he gets the news.

I think at this point, what I would like to help Mr. Ex-Partner do is set up his own blog. He may need it.

19 Days

Mr. Ex-Partner asked about property management today.

Five Years

Today marks five years since Late-Attorney Jon left this life. I think about his widow and five daughters sometimes and wonder how they are holding up. Suicide affects even the most peripheral of all of us. I wonder if he would have been able to get over his challenges if he were still alive. Would he have been happy now had he chosen a different path? Would the pain that drove him to make that ultimate decision have subsided had he lived? One will never know. What I do know is, despite his demons, he was a good man, father and husband, a cornerstone in my accidental business and someone I am proud to have known.

The End of the HOA Fun

There was a certain degree of professionalism that kept me from writing the following letter today:

Dear Homeowner's Association of Hysteria Lane,

Effective immediately Mr. Ex-Partner is the owner of this property. Please send all of your arbitrary nastiness and gestapo correspondence to him directly and leave me alone. Additionally, as you folks have never bothered to even send a copy of your CC&R's anywhere past your filing cabinet, please send him a copy too. He will delight in all of your capricious empire-building and petty threats of lawsuits that won't hold up under scrutiny, but will waste everyone's time. He likes that kind of stuff and will be quick to tell you how much.

Sincerely,

The Other Ex Partner

Running Itself

Last week, Carolsue said these infamous words: "I give Mr. Ex-Partner six months before he puts all of his homes in property management." Though I know Mr. Partner is absolutely, 100 percent against using a property management company (they cost money), I countered with six weeks. I think we are both wrong.

Over the weekend, I have heard from two tenants of the homes he manages. One is moving for sure. The other wrote me and bluntly said, "I don't like this guy." Given he cc'd me on both of the e-mails he wrote to these folks (I wish he would stop doing that), I am not sure I blame them. General basics of "please" and "thank you" go a long way in society in general--even if you aren't in the South.

Additionally, Carolsue sent him a "Howdy, would you like some help," note and he promptly dismissed her (and cc'd me on it). So, I am not sure how he plans on finding new tenants and showing the homes if he doesn't use property management or Carolsue.

Long ago, before any of our homes were in property management and I was spending hours every day dealing with tenant issues, Mr. Ex-Partner bragged to a bunch of people in my ear-shot that this accidental business "runs itself!" For the past 10 days, he's been watching Alabama "run itself". I bet he doesn't think that now.

The First Domino

This used to be my favorite home. It is on a few acres, nestled in the mountains. The porch. Did you see the porch???

Don't be fooled. The pictures make it look fabulous compared to the last time I saw the place. Flunky put up the plywood over the missing garage door at some point prior to the rest of the home's destruction. That same plywood is now pulled off and I am guessing someone, or someones, have gone in to take a peek and see how much copper is left. As you can see, someone already helped themselves to the appliances. There are missing cabinet doors and I happen to have heard there are holes inside the cabinets where sides used to be.

If this blog had smell-o-vision, you would probably want to pass on the basement pictures. Sadly, instead of using the toilets, the last tenants used the basement for their business. I suspect they did that for months. That also may explain why the bathrooms look so, um, pristine.

Had this house been in reasonable condition when the tenants moved out, we might have been able to salvage everything and move forward. I calculated the damage upwards of $40,000 the day I saw it in 2015. And that was only the visible damage. That didn't include the copper wiring, which turns out it was sold (for who knows what) or plumbing (ditto) or anything else I forgot. Though one can see the pictures, this really is a shell of a home at this point. If you don't believe me, look at the price for sale.

It is those last tenants who are responsible for the destruction of this home. It is these people who will never know (nor care) how much damage they have done in my life. They are not accountable. They have no conscience. After all, according to them, we are the "rich landlords" and we deserve it. Right?

This home is one of the reasons why we had no choice but to sell out the LLC. We have been told by two attorneys Marty and I can expect to be sued because of this house. That isn't a dramatic statement. We know it is coming. We are at peace. There comes to a point where enough is enough. It was time to let it go. This is our first domino.


Note: if you look at the bottom of the listing it says we paid $146,000 for this property. I am not sure who told Zillow such nonsense, but no. This, class (and repeat after me), is why we never, ever trust Zillow when it comes to a home's value. 

Not Teaching an Ex-Partner New Tricks

Once upon a time, I visited relatives in the South (next to the swamp, no less). This was in the early 1980s, where I was indoctrinated in Southern Culture. Since that time, I have also traveled to Atlanta on business several times, which also included side-trips of five hours to the same relatives and, at least once (as a small mercy offered by my cousin), a midnight four-wheeling drive through that same swamp to search for alligators--which, by the way we found in droves. It was better than the alternative, which was to have my aunt, with her arms crossed and cigarette dangling from her mouth, grill me about why that "Good-For-Nothing Marty Sunshine" had not bothered to marry me because, as far as she was concerned, I was an Old Maid and running out of time.  All this is to tell you, when our accidental business started, I was no stranger on how to address people in the South.

For the most part, I did not grow up in the South, nor did Marty or Mr. Ex-Partner. Here in Yankee territory, unless your mother insisted otherwise (I insisted otherwise), children may call adults by their first name. Adults address other adults by their first name. It isn't rude; it is just how things are.

However, the South is not so generous. A person, no matter what status--from Emperor to Hobo, may not call the woman by her first name. If he/she does not know the woman's last name, then it is customary to call the woman something along the lines of Ms. Landlord. If he/she knows the woman's last name it is always Ms. Sunshine. This is a hard-fast rule. Only when one has been given permission or through some sort of unwritten form of body language may you refer to someone by their first name. To do otherwise, would be a gross faux pas and a complete insult.

Now the rules for how women address men ("Mr. Jones," or "Mr. Bubba Roy" until otherwise told) or how men address men ("Bubba Roy") are a bit different in the South, but that's not what this blog is about.

Mr. Ex-Partner, who is having a difficult time letting go, has been cc'ing me on e-mails to tenants. And he seems absolutely shocked that the people he is contacting aren't responding. I could tell right away why this is so. When I saw his note to Ms. Angie where he referred to her as "Angela," I gasped in horror. When I saw his e-mail to Mrs. Sherwood Forest where he started it by saying, "Sherwood," I muttered, "Bless his heart..." and meant it. (Incidentally, when I told Polly this happened, she sucked in a breath of air, had scandalous look on her face and said, "NO!")

I asked for counsel from Bliz and Marty Sunshine if I should gently mention to Mr. Partner that he has committed a serious social sin. Both told me not to bring it up. "He will figure it out," is what Marty said. Independently, Bliz commented, "You learned, he will too." I am just not sure he will learn fast enough.

The Honeymoon is Over

Finn, also weary of Mr. Ex-Partner's antics today. 

Though I was sort of hoping I had more time, I really wasn't surprised when Mr. Ex-Partner started contacting me at 7 a.m. this morning. You see, since July 1, which was the day we officially disbanded the LLC, there has been drama. In this case, the drama came when Mr. Partner whipped out the old calculator and figured out that the out flow doesn't match the in flow. And though I have explained this phenomenon to him on a many, many occasions (this happens every July and December for a myriad of logical reasons), it came as a bit of a shock to him today because he is now having to look at this stuff on a daily basis.

In addition to the extra bills (and he ended up with less bills than Marty and I did, but you don't see us whining), apparently a couple of his tenants went MIA. So, the five hours of constant communication today was him saying things like, "Where? Where is my rent?" and me saying, "Why not call your tenants and find out?", which translates to "Hell if I know. Dude, figure it out." 

There were other comments too, like maybe I could send a letter and introduce him so the tenants wouldn't be surprised at the transition. I reminded him I gave him hard copies of that exact letter I wrote last week, but if he misplaced them, here were the same letters again for him to review. He also suggested I didn't actually send tenants a head's up they were supposed to deposit their rent into the correct bank account, and could their rent have gone somewhere else instead? Nope, the "somewhere else" account is closed as of last Friday. 

After that, he wanted me to prove I really sent the please-make-sure-you-deposit-rent-into-the-right-bank-account letter out. At which point I kind of did this "bless your heart" e-mail that basically said he had gotten on my last nerve I didn't have time, as I was under a tremendous deadline. I didn't point out that I managed nicely without this post-LLC micro-managing for years. 

Though he did his best to suggest I do his work for him (not my problem any more, thank you very much!), I didn't bite. I did tell him it was unfortunate this kind of thing happened, Murphy has a wicked sense of humor and I mentioned for the 20th time that I am sure if he contacted the tenants directly (instead of me) he might have better luck finding out where his rent happens to be. What I didn't say was, "You have used up five hours of my day. Why???"

I am quite aware had we not broken up the LLC this issue would have been mine and I would have spent my day hunting these folks down. And of course, I probably would have written about it, so you three readers wouldn't have missed anything exciting anyway. I am also acutely aware I wouldn't have lit up Mr. Ex-Partner's patch of cyber space with constant demands, micro-managing requests and vague pleas for help. Not because I know everything, but because I, too, had been where he is. And you know what? I figured out what to do. But I digress...

Incidentally, later in the day Mr. Ex-Partner cc'd me on an e-mail to one of the tenants (he finally e-mailed her) saying he expects with "any luck" I will still be involved. I am not sure whose "luck" he is thinks he is speaking of. 

I Don't Believe He Was Really Thankful

It appears Mrs. Sherwood is looking to sue someone. And, as I no longer own, nor manage Mrs. Sherwood's home, I am pretty sure I am mostly in the clear. But, before I go on, I am thisclose to taking back all of the nice things I have ever said about her. This whole issue seems scripted and doesn't pass my smell test.

You see, Mrs. Sherwood is claiming her home had an issue that is causing her health to decline. As soon as she brought the issue to us, we took care of it in a timely manner. Today I got a text message--actually it was a screen capture of a text message, making me think she is documenting--saying, "I have gone to the doctor and they seem to think..." and a bunch of other bunk (though I don't wish her any ill health).

What I happen to think is some lawyer somewhere sent out a pamphlet saying "How to sue a landlord," and this particular issue was in it. Essentially, every move she has made for the past several weeks regarding this issue seems to be from some playbook.  However, I believe she will have a hard time pinning this on her landlord. First, we acknowledged the problem right away and remedied it in a timely fashion. Second, it would be extremely difficult to prove her health wasn't in "jeopardy" prior to this issue coming to our attention. And third, as the saying goes, you can't get blood out of a turnip.

Because I thought this issue was resolved last month, I didn't bother to tell Mr. Ex-Partner in any great detail, other than to update him at the time it was resolved. However, after the screen capture of the text today, I felt compelled to call him and give him the nitty=gritty. He is on the same page as me: Prove negligence. At the end of our call, he said, "Thanks. I think."

He will probably be thinking about thanking me a lot in the next few months.

Mr. Partner

Lest you think I wish to kick Mr. Partner in the shins and spill his strawberry ice cream cone all over the ground, I don't. I actually like Mr. Partner. I have known him for about 20 years. I know I will like him better when he and I aren't involved in anything financial. Uncle Sunshine once told the the only kind of ship that doesn't float is a partnership.

Mr. Partner actually had more experience in property management than I did when this started. I relied on his advice. However, I quickly overtook him in knowledge, but that doesn't mean I don't respect him or the role he has played in our accidental business. I also realize, as a real estate agent, I am trained to play for a win-win solution. Mr. Partner is not. Some of my decisions weren't as long-term profitable as his would be. Some of his decisions would have netted us more up front, but harmed us in the long run.

Also, I am not certain Mr. Partner realizes there is a learning curve and initiation process to do business in the South. The South is a different culture. I caught on quickly (I am pleased to say). I am not sure Mr. Partner will. He may even try to go in with his Yankee ways and find out there are people more passive aggressive than him out there. I don't wish that for him. He and Mrs. Partner are really great people and I want the best for them.

One Last Cry*

I thought once the Dissolution Agreement was signed, letting go of the LLC, I would feel this joyous burst of gratitude. And though I was momentarily relieved Mr. Partner signed the Agreement, it wasn't anything like the cathartic experience I was expecting. In truth, I equate the entire process to a loved one dying a slow death. There is no true release when they pass. You have been expecting it. It is now a new normal part of your normal.

Right after my last trip to Alabama in March of 2015, I stopped stressing about Alabama. I saw my favorite home completely trashed and the dream died. There was no stopping the financial storm that was heading our way. Coupled with the idiots at the bank who called our second loan due and refused to work with us, we were out of options. The tears dried up right about then.

So, dissolving the LLC wasn't terribly emotional. I was anxious to be done, in the way a young child is anxious for Christmas. I was anxious for Mr. Partner to sign the Dissolution Agreement. That was my trigger that would signify it was over. I wanted it to be over. Though there is a transition plan in place, most of it is administrative work and I will say no to anything I don't want to do if Mr. Partner asks. I am ok with that. I will sleep at night with this decision. My help will be willingly or not at all. I am not obligated. Mr. Partner is treading lightly because he knows this too.

As part of the transition plan, I needed to tell the tenants who are not in property management Mr. Partner was taking over and he was the new landlord. The letters took three minutes to compose. As I started addressing the letter to Ms. Angie, I thought about how cold my words felt. After all, a typed letter from someone you consider a friend for the past nine years seemed heartless. Even after I signed it and shoved it in the envelope, it didn't sit right with me.

Then, I addressed Mrs. Sherwood's envelope. Mrs. Sherwood is by far the best tenant anyone could ever ask for. Plus, I really like her. Staring at her letter for some time, I picked up my pen and added a few choice sentiments. I told her how much I had enjoyed getting to know her. How she truly was the best tenant I ever had. I thanked her for our countless conversations. And, hopefully I didn't overstep, I invited her to keep in touch.

Then, I tore open Ms. Angie's envelope and wrote a few words too. It was as I was writing to Ms. Angie, mentioning her beautiful family and grandchildren, that I lost it. The dam burst. I had to reprint Ms. Angie's letter because by then it was soggy and the ink was smudged from my tears. I was going to miss Ms. Angie so much. This woman has worked herself to to the bone make sure her kids weren't street thugs. She dedicated herself to her children, dedicated her time to make sure she had a home for them. I have the utmost respect for her. And I doubt I said so the way I wanted to in my letter.

I told Bliz later how writing the tenant letters got to me. I wasn't expecting the burst of emotion. She replied, "It's because you care." And that's the truth. It has never been about the homes. It has been about the people I have met along the way.


*And speaking of the people I have met along the way, I was introduced to Brian McNight's "One Last Cry" by a former tenant and friend of McKnight's (they knew each other in Muscle Shoals, the music capital of Alabama). I heard if for the first time one day in 2006 when this tenant sent it to me. 

The Transition Plan

Just like the UK's exit from the European Union--well, maybe not exactly just like it--we too have an exit plan. A good portion of it was completed prior to dissolving. But some had to wait until we finished. All of this was laid out the Dissolution Agreement.

What was getting on my nerves by Thursday morning was the countless questions Mr. Partner had about relatively simple things. Granted, he is new at managing homes in Alabama, some of these items were more than simple. For example, Kirby is my HVAC guy (and real estate agent). Was he to write one check and put the homes in the memo line, or one check for the work done at each home? And while we were talking about Kirby, who authorized him to work on the ACs on these homes anyway? That kind of simple. (And for the record, I don't care if he writes one check or more. I doubt Kirby cares either.)

At one point I grumbled to Marty, "You know, I did this for 14 years without anyone holding my hand. I managed. Why can't this man can't handle 14 hours on his own?"

And then, as if Mr. Partner was magically standing in the doorway, eavesdropping, he called Marty, right then and there. He and Mrs. Partner had a "brilliant" idea! Why don't Mr. Partner and I go on a trip to Birmingham and I can introduce him to everyone? I didn't get a chance to practice my withering look on Marty before he replied into the phone, "What a great idea!" and then to me, he added, "When do you want to go?"

Of course, that is a loaded question, because the answer is never. I never want to go. I have been there. With very few exceptions, I have no reason to want to go back. And the idea of spending days of quality time with Mr. Partner while he relives ancient history of how we got to the moment of time we split the homes and then questions every decision I made up until when he took back over his homes, did not sit well with me (seriously, Kirby charged me  $75 for an AC fix and he questioned if I could have done better and when had been the last time I shopped around for such services?). Nor did him seeing that Marty and I inadvertently got the better homes (I swear, it was happenstance--we also have higher mortgages and less stable tenants) sound like a great use of my time. Given how selective his memory happens to be, I don't see this boding well--and I will be the one who hears about it first.

But what really got me about his phone call was that sometime early during the Prexit process this idea was bandied about. It was brought up once as an afterthought. That said, Mr. Partner could not remember anything of significance for the past two weeks, but somewhere in the recesses of his memory, he came up with the conversation where I agreed to go to Birmingham with him. His selective memory is maddening. As we left it, I conceded to go, but refused to commit to a date. I am really sure I am busy for the next few months. My selective memory may make me forget this too.

The Dissolution Agreement

Truly, all one needs to do to dissolve an LLC is fill out a form with the state of your choice--or choices in my case--pay the extortion money they charge and mail the darn thing in. It really is that simple. And, as managing partner, I have the luxury of doing such things.

Though that may be simple on the surface, there really is more to this. For one thing, and this is pretty major, there are assets to split. For another, to dissolve an LLC (and fill out the above forms) without consent of the partners causes hurt feelings and ugly lawsuits, both of which I prefer to avoid.

So, with a pat on the back from Diamond Jim, I sat down last week and wrote out a Dissolution Agreement. The agreement discussed in length who got which homes. It discussed who paid what outstanding bills. It talked about what I as (now former) managing partner was responsible to do from this point forward. The agreement was two pages long. However, there was an enormous Appendix A I also created, which had all sorts of numbers on it that were relevant to Diamond Jim, the IRS and others who may wish to see it. When I sent the Dissolution Agreement to the Arizona Attorney (you know, she simply must get a nick-name), she called me and said, "I see you write contracts for a living." High praise! She only added one clause--one I purposely omitted and hoped not to have to include.

The first part of the agreement was simple. We divided up the homes according to who held the mortgage. In all fairness, Marty and I had the better homes. We had the homes with more equity. We had the homes in better shape. It wasn't planned that Marty and I would take out loans on the better homes, it just worked out that way. That said, Mr. Partner has the better tenants. All of his tenants but one have been there homes more than six years. The one tenant who is relatively new, isn't going anywhere any time soon. Those folks have been there for about two years. The way it stands now, we owe Mr. Partner money for our equity. We had spelled this out. He acknowledged, but that didn't stop the questions about why some homes had positive equity positions and some had negative ones.

When it came to the money end of the agreement, Mr. Partner was most interested. When I made a list of outstanding bills, I simply looked at which bill went with which home. For example, Mr. Partner is now the proud owner of the home in Leeds. He can pay any bill associated with that home. Marty and I are now the not-so-proud owners of the home in Moody. Anything related to that home is on us. Additionally, Marty and I offered to pay any legal fees associated with closing this down. Our end of the accounts payable was higher. However, this is where Mr. Partner began to get confused and slightly belligerent.

First Mr. Partner was under some insane impression I was ordering/insisting/demanding he write a check to cover all of the bills. I don't know why he thought this. I sent him several e-mails all saying things along the lines of, "As we agreed when we met last Sunday and last Thursday, the bills in black will be yours, and the ones in red will be the Sunshine's." In fact, I sat down with him twice and went over the six items he was expected to pay. Some time last week he even called me, suggesting I added extra bills to his list while he was sleeping.

"Who is Bliz Bookkeeping?" He asked, as if I covertly snuck this mysterious invoice into the mix.

"That would be our bookkeeper. The same one we have had for more than ten years and the same one you had lunch with last Friday," I replied.

"Ok then, carry on." Click.

Though this may seem to satisfy the common mortal's curiosity, this particular question of why we were asking him to pay all the bills came up several times.

Additionally, Mr. Partner decided he could not comprehend the bill payer system to his new bank account. Though I had set up the bills for him, he wanted to log on and do it himself. And, it had to be done right then and there. First he didn't have the password. So, I resent him the e-mail where I covered this. Then he didn't like something else. And finally, he didn't have the invoices to pay said bills. When I reminded him I handed him the insurance for Mrs. Sherwood's home at the lunch with him and Bliz, he argued I never did such thing. Finally, to give Mr. Partner the win, I offered to call our insurance agent have them re-send the policy. It was only then did he miraculously pull the invoice out of the dark, damp place I assume he had crammed it in earlier.

By Monday afternoon, I was done. I was finished with the insane questions. I was tired of the outright implications that we were somehow trying to pull the wool over his eyes. I was complete. I expected he would review the Agreement and get it back to me in the morning. Meanwhile, I had fantasies about this being out of my life by July 1. I saw stars aligning. I saw freedom. I could see the finish line. All I needed were two signatures.

Tuesday Mr. Partner contacted me about 30 times with banking questions. With invoice questions. With rental questions. Most were legitimate, however most were also repeats from Monday. At one point he actually told me the bill payer system was too complicated. However, he uses this same system to pay his home bills. I believe the bruise on my forehead is from where my palm of my right hand slammed into it a few too many times that day.

Then--and this was what put me over the edge--at one point, he wanted me to make up a spreadsheet for him, which included odd items, such as the mortgage balances and rental amounts. Though that may sound perfectly reasonable, all of this information is provided for him on a different spreadsheet he has. And, if that wasn't enough it was also in the big Appendix A that was attached to the Dissolution Agreement. But no, this new spreadsheet needed to be formatted with a certain font and using particular colors to show the migration patterns of the spotted waxwing. I obliged and only stuck in his properties. After all, he wasn't getting mine, so why would it matter. And frankly, I thought that's all he wanted.

Nope, that wasn't good enough. he wanted the homes Marty and I were taking too. Instead of arguing the needlessness of this futile exercise (they wouldn't be his in two days and this information was everywhere else), I just added the info. Then, when I thought all of this was resolved, he threw another curve ball. The home that went to foreclosure last year and WE NO LONGER OWN, well he wanted that loan information and equity value too.

At this point, I was grumbling curses that would make a drunken sailor blush. I started to remind him this is no longer our property so this was pointless, but stopped. You know what? If putting a bunch of gobbledygook on an Excel spreadsheet would get him to sign the damn Agreement, I could do three minutes of work. By the way, there are no loans for this company any more, but don't tell Mr. Partner. I provided, "loan numbers."

Wednesday morning, crazed with stress over the fact he had such a significant case of selective amnesia from the past several days, I took action. I filled out the Arizona Secretary of State's form, got a cashier's check and mailed it in. It was done. Woot. However, though the LLC was now legally dissolved, Mr. Partner still had not given me back a signed Dissolution Agreement. So, legal or not, it wasn't really finished.

By Wednesday night, I had sent him an e-mail, reminding him not to pay any of his mortgages until we severed. Because that might look "funny" to the IRS. And all of this passive-aggressive crap over the past few days was reinforcing why I so much wanted to be done with this LLC.

I finally did get the signed Dissolution Agreement. It is now in my safe. I also sent a copy (signed by all parties) back to Mr. and Mrs. Partner and the Arizona Attorney. Though I would like to tell you this is over, it isn't. There is still the transition plan.

Done

So, today is July 1. 2016 to be exact. And, that happens to mean that our LLC with Mr. Partner is now dissolved. However, it wasn't as simple as the sentence above happens to make it sound.

To summarize... never mind. The last twenty-three days cannot be summarized.

A lot of difficult decisions went into what Marty and I have done. It started easily enough with a visit to an attorney. I had set up the appointment some time in May, and purposely set it for when Marty would be on vacation--which happened to be the first week of June. Our goal at the time was to buy an hour of advice on the direction of our accidental business.

The advice we got was a lot more complicated. It was inevitable and of no shock to anyone. The Accidental Business must shut down. As Mr. Partner had known we were going to see the attorney, he waited in delusional anticipation that Marty and I would come to our senses and agree to go a different direction. But alas. We aren't. And frankly, Mr. Partner wasn't surprised. And if truth be told, in the long run it is best for the Partners and the Sunshines.

All of the early ins and outs came out via lunch a few Sunday's ago. Sadly, Marty was feeling under the weather and asked to beg off. But oh  no! There was no way I was going in alone. I already gave birth. I have done my hard job. So, he came and drooled in the corner sat quietly while I covered everything and gave Mr. and Mrs. Partner the gist of our situation.

Since then, I met with Diamond Jim several times: and may I say, what an incredible friend to stop everything he was doing to help me. He spent a good deal of a few weekends (while I dealt with the sickness Marty gave me, though he didn't come with me to meet Diamond Jim) answering questions, advising me and helping me draft documents that contained a lot of numbers.

Mr. and Mrs. Partner also met me at the attorney's office some time in there to ask any and all questions, which they did. The answers didn't change, but at least it gave all of us a better understanding of the situation.

For the Prexit, I was using a notebook I bought in Louisiana earlier this month. It was full of checklists, notes and to-dos. Most of them were completed prior to the Dissolution Agreement. A few that weren't were added to the Dissolution Agreement.  And mind you, the Dissolution Agreement doesn't end everything. There is also a Transition Plan, which is in place. Sadly the Transition Plan also requires my cooperation.

At first, we wanted to make this happen by the end of July. But as I started rolling, I managed to get Legal Owl to write up new deeds. I had little free time for this, but as any busy person will tell you, the most productive people are the ones with the least time. Getting this done was actually so important to me that I did not watch baseball for an entire week, as I still had my other "real" job to do while taking on this project.

Somewhere last week, I realized everything was in place already to sever the ties. All that needed to be done was write the contract. In that case, why wait a month until the end of July? All we were doing was putting off the inevitable. So, with that said, we changed our date to June 30.

As I write this, I am thinking back to what a week this has been. The above makes this sound like it was a walk in the park with a bunch of meetings. As Bliz can attest, it wasn't. But that is for the next blog.