A Plethora of Dumbasses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nausea on Hysteria Lane

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

I am guessing she forgot about that second year.

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

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

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

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

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

Leedsing Me On

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Joe,

May I call you Joe? Thanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

The Landlord

No Leads for Leeds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Allergic to Work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have not heard back.

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

In Other News

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

--Johnny Cash, Hurt

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

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

To be continued.

Grayson Valley Update

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

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

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

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

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

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

Random Bama

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

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

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

One can never be too careful. 

__________________________________________________

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

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

__________________________________________________

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

He is now on my speed dial.

The Crazies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And by the way, I still plan on garnishing.

Emily Post Doesn't Seem To Cover This

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

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

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

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

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

In a Dark Space

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nobody is listening to me.

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

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

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

Reality Television is NOT Real

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

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

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

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

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

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

And How Is Your Day Going?

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

Smiles

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

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

Ms. Nosy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speechless

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Daisy Chronicles--The Last Straw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Daisy Chronicles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, that is for the next blog.

A Quick Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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