I am sad tonight. Diamond Jim called me earlier today. Yesterday he was flying from his home in Eastern Oregon to Phoenix to tackle another tax season. When he landed, he got the news: his bride of many, many years passed away. So, he immediately flew back to Portland, met up with his adult son who lives there and then they drove four hours back to his Eastern Oregon home. When I talked to him earlier, he was just about numb, not really having time to process all that goes with loosing a loved one.
I had known Mrs. Diamond Jim. She was his office manager for the first several years I visited his practice. She was smart and made me (and probably everyone else she met) feel at ease, as if we were long-lost friends. I liked her quick wit and loved her sense of humor.
As time went on, when Mr. and Mrs. Diamond Jim decided to "retire" they bought a home in some small, obscure town (which was Mrs. Diamond Jim's childhood hometown) to live out their golden years. A series of unfortunate events has kept Diamond Jim from officially retiring, with him choosing to spend the three coldest of the Eastern Oregon months here in sunny Mesa, filing taxes.
Anyway, Diamond Jim has been a regular on this blog. Some of you three readers have even had the exceptional opportunity to meet him. He is hurting tonight. I am saddened by his loss. The only thing I could offer my friend when I spoke was cliche'd platitudes and prayers. And he, being the gracious man he is, said thank you and asked me if I would call him again.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Slick Willy
Willy, my new contact at the property management company, has not been terrible. He hasn't been wonderful either. However, I knew I had heard his name before. And after a bit of research, I figured out where: he was my contact the last month I had Hysteria Lane in Mario's clutches. The sum-total of my communication with the guy when he worked for Mario was one e-mail (where he addressed me as "Hey",) and him telling me he would rent out my home as soon as he could. However, he only showed it to one person for the entire month.
The reason I remember him, is that Mario insisted Willy was my contact over there. Mario was actually unhappy I kept contacting Mario asking for information and not Willy because I couldn't get any information from Willy. And, when I forwarded Mario the one e-mail I had gotten from the guy, Mario back-pedaled.
Anyway, I told Willy I knew he worked for Mario--I figure he knew he worked for Mario and he must have known who I was prior to last week, so let's just address the ugly elephant in the room, shall, we? Willy, to his credit, was upfront. He said he hadn't been a good fit over there. He also said he was looking forward to better opportunities working for Luigi, including--and I am not making garbage up--working with "savvy investors" like myself.
Oh brother.
Frankly, the fact he ignored my home last July and his actions are ultimately what cost Mario my business isn't playing in his favor. But right now I am going to go with this because Luigi trusts him. But unfortunately, I don't.
The reason I remember him, is that Mario insisted Willy was my contact over there. Mario was actually unhappy I kept contacting Mario asking for information and not Willy because I couldn't get any information from Willy. And, when I forwarded Mario the one e-mail I had gotten from the guy, Mario back-pedaled.
Anyway, I told Willy I knew he worked for Mario--I figure he knew he worked for Mario and he must have known who I was prior to last week, so let's just address the ugly elephant in the room, shall, we? Willy, to his credit, was upfront. He said he hadn't been a good fit over there. He also said he was looking forward to better opportunities working for Luigi, including--and I am not making garbage up--working with "savvy investors" like myself.
Oh brother.
Frankly, the fact he ignored my home last July and his actions are ultimately what cost Mario my business isn't playing in his favor. But right now I am going to go with this because Luigi trusts him. But unfortunately, I don't.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Brother Of The Year
Dear Joe,
May I call you Joe? You don't know me, but I wrote you once before. If you would like me to refresh your memory, please feel free to go here. I'll wait. Take your time.
When we last conversed, you were living in a home owned by Mitch and Tonya, these awesome people who were your defacto landlords. You are the felonious brother of Lisa--Mitch and Tonya's true tenant--whom you were subletting from. I know you are aware of who Mitch and Tonya are. And if you weren't aware prior to last week, I am guessing about 11:16 last Monday you got a phone call from Lisa, after she left the court house, filling you in on her morning's adventures.
You see, last week, Lisa had to go to court. Mitch and Tonya sued her for damages in their home. In return, Lisa was a bit pissy because she thought it wasn't very nice that she hadn't gotten her security deposit returned and elected to counter-sue them for a few hundred dollars.
But the truth is, you weren't very nice to Mitch and Tonya's home. Not only did you let your daughter's turtle die in her aquarium, you also poured the aquarium gravel down the bathroom drain. And the plumbing is probably the least of Mitch and Tonya's issues.
During the court hearing, Tonya outlined their position very clearly: Lisa didn't leave the house in the same condition she received it. There were pictures to prove this. There were e-mails from Lisa saying she would honor the terms of the lease and Mitch and Tonya could count on her. There were even e-mails from Lisa, stating she would fix all of your damages and leave the house in tip-top shape when "she" vacated. Unfortunately she didn't check with you prior to this, to make sure you were both on the same page. It might have saved her a bit of money. And, there were also receipts presented to the judge showing the amount of work needed to bring the house back up to habitable condition--though in my estimation, Mitch and Tonya should have asked for more money.
Joe, when it came time for your dear sister to defend herself and explain how she was indeed the one wronged because she hadn't seen a lick of her security deposit returned to her, she forgot to do so. I sat in the hard bench seat, watching her give her entire defense, which consisted of about 17 minutes of her babbling different variations of "I am a single mother." I personally thought the teary eyes were a nice touch. And of course she concluded her soliloquy with an old standby used by victims everywhere: this whole legal proceeding just wasn't "fair."
As a last ditch effort to see that justice was served (and let's face it, nail her coffin shut), Lisa had hastily made a list of what she thought she might be responsible for (actually what she thought you were responsible for) and what she didn't think she should pay for. Lisa never got around to explaining to the judge exactly why she was expecting her deposit back. And that's too bad. I really wanted to hear her side of the story and see how she was going to go about it without admitting she had blatantly lied to Mitch and Tonya and sublet their home.
Eventually Joe, I was asked to speak to the judge. Although Tonya had eloquently covered all the main points, I was happy to re-iterate a few things I felt the judge hadn't completely grasped. For example the holes in the walls weren't just tiny nail holes. They were large enough for burrowing animals to have nested. And these holes are in every wall in every room.
And, Your Honor, please understand these three-to-five inches across holes were filled with some sort of chewing gum-type substance and painted over. Someone (and we just happen to believe it was you, Joe) took the time to make that mess. And someone (and we know it wasn't you, Joe) had to scoop that goop out, replace those pockets of drywall and repaint.
Then there was the damage to the garage ceiling. It wasn't just a "tiny spot" that Lisa could have possibly have neglected to miss--which is what she claimed to the judge during her tearful counter-suit. But, in fact, the damage spanned the entire length of the garage. And, it was obvious. And it was expensive to fix.
Joe, I have two brothers. I cannot image them screwing me over the way you did this to your sister. I won't say she didn't have it coming by lying to Mitch and Tonya and letting you live in their home, especially because she knew what kind of person you were prior to the time she signed the lease. But that said, I am saddened you live your life in a way, and Lisa lives her life in such a way that she had to spend her morning in front of a judge defending herself because of your actions.
Lisa now has other issues because of this racket too. First, Mitch and Tonya want their money. They will be garnishing your sister's wages. I am sure she will discuss this thoroughly with you for quite a long time.
Then there is the fact Lisa now has a judgement on her record. She better be very comfy where she is living now because these shenanigans have ultimately black-listed her from renting any time soon again. Landlords don't appreciate tenants who have harmed another landlord. What is she going to say to a prospective landlord by way of an explanation about this judgement? Because I am pretty sure the "I am a single mom" defense won't work any better in the future than it did last time she used it.
Sincerely,
The Landlord
May I call you Joe? You don't know me, but I wrote you once before. If you would like me to refresh your memory, please feel free to go here. I'll wait. Take your time.
When we last conversed, you were living in a home owned by Mitch and Tonya, these awesome people who were your defacto landlords. You are the felonious brother of Lisa--Mitch and Tonya's true tenant--whom you were subletting from. I know you are aware of who Mitch and Tonya are. And if you weren't aware prior to last week, I am guessing about 11:16 last Monday you got a phone call from Lisa, after she left the court house, filling you in on her morning's adventures.
You see, last week, Lisa had to go to court. Mitch and Tonya sued her for damages in their home. In return, Lisa was a bit pissy because she thought it wasn't very nice that she hadn't gotten her security deposit returned and elected to counter-sue them for a few hundred dollars.
But the truth is, you weren't very nice to Mitch and Tonya's home. Not only did you let your daughter's turtle die in her aquarium, you also poured the aquarium gravel down the bathroom drain. And the plumbing is probably the least of Mitch and Tonya's issues.
During the court hearing, Tonya outlined their position very clearly: Lisa didn't leave the house in the same condition she received it. There were pictures to prove this. There were e-mails from Lisa saying she would honor the terms of the lease and Mitch and Tonya could count on her. There were even e-mails from Lisa, stating she would fix all of your damages and leave the house in tip-top shape when "she" vacated. Unfortunately she didn't check with you prior to this, to make sure you were both on the same page. It might have saved her a bit of money. And, there were also receipts presented to the judge showing the amount of work needed to bring the house back up to habitable condition--though in my estimation, Mitch and Tonya should have asked for more money.
Joe, when it came time for your dear sister to defend herself and explain how she was indeed the one wronged because she hadn't seen a lick of her security deposit returned to her, she forgot to do so. I sat in the hard bench seat, watching her give her entire defense, which consisted of about 17 minutes of her babbling different variations of "I am a single mother." I personally thought the teary eyes were a nice touch. And of course she concluded her soliloquy with an old standby used by victims everywhere: this whole legal proceeding just wasn't "fair."
As a last ditch effort to see that justice was served (and let's face it, nail her coffin shut), Lisa had hastily made a list of what she thought she might be responsible for (actually what she thought you were responsible for) and what she didn't think she should pay for. Lisa never got around to explaining to the judge exactly why she was expecting her deposit back. And that's too bad. I really wanted to hear her side of the story and see how she was going to go about it without admitting she had blatantly lied to Mitch and Tonya and sublet their home.
Eventually Joe, I was asked to speak to the judge. Although Tonya had eloquently covered all the main points, I was happy to re-iterate a few things I felt the judge hadn't completely grasped. For example the holes in the walls weren't just tiny nail holes. They were large enough for burrowing animals to have nested. And these holes are in every wall in every room.
And, Your Honor, please understand these three-to-five inches across holes were filled with some sort of chewing gum-type substance and painted over. Someone (and we just happen to believe it was you, Joe) took the time to make that mess. And someone (and we know it wasn't you, Joe) had to scoop that goop out, replace those pockets of drywall and repaint.
Then there was the damage to the garage ceiling. It wasn't just a "tiny spot" that Lisa could have possibly have neglected to miss--which is what she claimed to the judge during her tearful counter-suit. But, in fact, the damage spanned the entire length of the garage. And, it was obvious. And it was expensive to fix.
Joe, I have two brothers. I cannot image them screwing me over the way you did this to your sister. I won't say she didn't have it coming by lying to Mitch and Tonya and letting you live in their home, especially because she knew what kind of person you were prior to the time she signed the lease. But that said, I am saddened you live your life in a way, and Lisa lives her life in such a way that she had to spend her morning in front of a judge defending herself because of your actions.
Lisa now has other issues because of this racket too. First, Mitch and Tonya want their money. They will be garnishing your sister's wages. I am sure she will discuss this thoroughly with you for quite a long time.
Then there is the fact Lisa now has a judgement on her record. She better be very comfy where she is living now because these shenanigans have ultimately black-listed her from renting any time soon again. Landlords don't appreciate tenants who have harmed another landlord. What is she going to say to a prospective landlord by way of an explanation about this judgement? Because I am pretty sure the "I am a single mom" defense won't work any better in the future than it did last time she used it.
Sincerely,
The Landlord
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Musings of a Crazed SECOND Mortgage Holder
Marty Sunshine called the mortgage company today. The same mortgage company which called a SECOND mortgage due on a home we are significantly upside down on. The same mortgage company which holds a SECOND mortgage on a vacant property. The same SECOND mortgage company that has been asking for a ridiculous amount of redundant paper and for the past several months has found creative ways to say "hold on, we will let you know if we have modified your loan... eventually."
Last week this mortgage company asked for financial profit and loss statements for the first week of January, 2015. However, they did not want our bank statements for December. This week they decided they do indeed want our bank statements for December. Please send them over as soon as possible. Thanks.
"What happens if they decide they aren't going to refinance this mortgage?" I asked Marty tonight. I have asked Marty various versions of this question for the past several months, with him giving me some sort of happy rendition of, "It will all work out." Ironically, Marty won't let me ask the mortgage company this question. Nor will he ask them either. So, I really don't know what will happen if they get sick of this stupid fetchquest game they are putting us through.
I have imagined all sorts of scenarios of what I would truly like to say to the bank. Unfortunately, every scenario seems to end with me facing a jury of my peers. My true peers of course, will be folks in a similar situation who managed to keep it together while they were randomly tortured by an impersonal entity whose sole purpose was to ruin rainforests and drive somewhat once-sane people crazy. Surely those peers will really understand.
Last week this mortgage company asked for financial profit and loss statements for the first week of January, 2015. However, they did not want our bank statements for December. This week they decided they do indeed want our bank statements for December. Please send them over as soon as possible. Thanks.
"What happens if they decide they aren't going to refinance this mortgage?" I asked Marty tonight. I have asked Marty various versions of this question for the past several months, with him giving me some sort of happy rendition of, "It will all work out." Ironically, Marty won't let me ask the mortgage company this question. Nor will he ask them either. So, I really don't know what will happen if they get sick of this stupid fetchquest game they are putting us through.
I have imagined all sorts of scenarios of what I would truly like to say to the bank. Unfortunately, every scenario seems to end with me facing a jury of my peers. My true peers of course, will be folks in a similar situation who managed to keep it together while they were randomly tortured by an impersonal entity whose sole purpose was to ruin rainforests and drive somewhat once-sane people crazy. Surely those peers will really understand.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
I Am Pretty Sure He Only Listened When I Said I Am Buying Airfare
Luigi has passed me over to a new property manager dude at his office. And, because I am out of Mario the video game references (Mario, Luigi, Kirby and Daisy for those of you keeping track), we will just call this guy Slick Willy--or Willy for short.
Last week Willy and I played phone and e-mail tag, with him leaving me a message. Me returning it, giving him a reasonable range of when he could call to reach me and Willy ultimately ignoring my time frame and trying again when I was my most busy. Lather, rinse repeat.
Finally on Thursday we connected, with him beginning to tell me about what he felt needed to be "done" with my homes. I guess nobody over there warned him that I wasn't the average pushover, because he seemed a bit taken back when I corrected him and told him what I felt needed to be done with my homes.
First on my list is get my vacant one rented. Then find out why my tenant in Chalkville is moving next month and what can be done to keep her. Then update me on the eviction and destroyed home over there (I haven't written about that drama. Just not up to it right now). And then, when those meager tasks are complete, sell my home in Leeds. And, if possible, could you please give me comps on a couple of others. No hurry on the comps. I am just curious and would like someone else's opinion. What I didn't say was I wanted someone else's qualified opinion. But maybe I should have elaborated. My mistake.
Before hanging up, Willy shot through a good sixteen platitudes in about four minutes flat, promised me I would see all of the above and plenty more in my e-mail before close of business on Friday and wished me well. He may have sealed it with some sort of additional "you can count on me" speech. But I can't be sure.
I hung up our call with trepidation and fear, figuring that would be the last I would hear from Willy for a good three weeks. But, he didn't disappoint. He sent me all I asked for first thing Tuesday morning. Of course, unbeknown to him, I wasn't really available Tuesday morning. I was busy with 12 kids at a homeless shelter and didn't really get around to reading his e-mail until after noon some time.
Additionally, I hadn't exactly absorbed his e-mail when he called me an hour later with his version of great news. He had a buyer for my home in Moody. Yep. He found an investor who would buy it for $60k. He expected the contract any minute. Wasn't he just the best guy ever?
Maybe Willy is the best guy ever. Maybe he isn't. I do know nowhere did I say I wanted to give a home away for $60k. And yes, of course he could give me an offer on any of my homes at that price because it is worth significantly more than that.
When I started to explain to Willy I wasn't interested in selling the home in Moody for such a low price and I knew the house was worth more, he stopped me, giving me the same speech I share with those who think Zillow is a National treasure. Except I didn't use Zillow to find my comps. As a licensed agent, I have other tools at my disposal to run comps--even in other markets--which are more accurate than Zillow. Actually my cat could give more accurate comps than Zillow, but my true opinions of Zillow can wait until another blog.
Willy, who was expecting adulation and Heavenly praise for finding a buyer so fast for a home that wasn't in Leeds (and I didn't want to sell), took my reproach well. I did explain it wasn't my intention to professionally embarrass him by allowing him to find someone to bring me a low-ball offer (though I didn't "allow", but thought this might just ease the tension). I wanted a fair price for my homes. I don't want to give them away. Willy stammered though his explanation for way too long and I dropped it. I did suggest he could offer the same investor the home on Leeds, because that is the one I want sold. Just in case he missed that part of our conversation last week.
Willy didn't really have much else to say about my properties until I threw this bomb at him: I intend to fly out as soon as my eviction home is vacant. After a week of knowing this guy, I am thinking he would be much happier and would prefer I stayed right here.
Last week Willy and I played phone and e-mail tag, with him leaving me a message. Me returning it, giving him a reasonable range of when he could call to reach me and Willy ultimately ignoring my time frame and trying again when I was my most busy. Lather, rinse repeat.
Finally on Thursday we connected, with him beginning to tell me about what he felt needed to be "done" with my homes. I guess nobody over there warned him that I wasn't the average pushover, because he seemed a bit taken back when I corrected him and told him what I felt needed to be done with my homes.
First on my list is get my vacant one rented. Then find out why my tenant in Chalkville is moving next month and what can be done to keep her. Then update me on the eviction and destroyed home over there (I haven't written about that drama. Just not up to it right now). And then, when those meager tasks are complete, sell my home in Leeds. And, if possible, could you please give me comps on a couple of others. No hurry on the comps. I am just curious and would like someone else's opinion. What I didn't say was I wanted someone else's qualified opinion. But maybe I should have elaborated. My mistake.
Before hanging up, Willy shot through a good sixteen platitudes in about four minutes flat, promised me I would see all of the above and plenty more in my e-mail before close of business on Friday and wished me well. He may have sealed it with some sort of additional "you can count on me" speech. But I can't be sure.
I hung up our call with trepidation and fear, figuring that would be the last I would hear from Willy for a good three weeks. But, he didn't disappoint. He sent me all I asked for first thing Tuesday morning. Of course, unbeknown to him, I wasn't really available Tuesday morning. I was busy with 12 kids at a homeless shelter and didn't really get around to reading his e-mail until after noon some time.
Additionally, I hadn't exactly absorbed his e-mail when he called me an hour later with his version of great news. He had a buyer for my home in Moody. Yep. He found an investor who would buy it for $60k. He expected the contract any minute. Wasn't he just the best guy ever?
Maybe Willy is the best guy ever. Maybe he isn't. I do know nowhere did I say I wanted to give a home away for $60k. And yes, of course he could give me an offer on any of my homes at that price because it is worth significantly more than that.
When I started to explain to Willy I wasn't interested in selling the home in Moody for such a low price and I knew the house was worth more, he stopped me, giving me the same speech I share with those who think Zillow is a National treasure. Except I didn't use Zillow to find my comps. As a licensed agent, I have other tools at my disposal to run comps--even in other markets--which are more accurate than Zillow. Actually my cat could give more accurate comps than Zillow, but my true opinions of Zillow can wait until another blog.
Willy, who was expecting adulation and Heavenly praise for finding a buyer so fast for a home that wasn't in Leeds (and I didn't want to sell), took my reproach well. I did explain it wasn't my intention to professionally embarrass him by allowing him to find someone to bring me a low-ball offer (though I didn't "allow", but thought this might just ease the tension). I wanted a fair price for my homes. I don't want to give them away. Willy stammered though his explanation for way too long and I dropped it. I did suggest he could offer the same investor the home on Leeds, because that is the one I want sold. Just in case he missed that part of our conversation last week.
Willy didn't really have much else to say about my properties until I threw this bomb at him: I intend to fly out as soon as my eviction home is vacant. After a week of knowing this guy, I am thinking he would be much happier and would prefer I stayed right here.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Vacant
My Section 8 tenant moved out last week. She left the home in reasonable shape, though I am wondering what is wrong with the garage door and why she re-keyed the front door. It isn't wonderful, but not trashed either.
My new contact at Luigi's office tells me I can get about $150 more a month for this house--which is about what I was getting prior to the days it was a Section 8 house. Hopefully it will be rented soon.
My new contact at Luigi's office tells me I can get about $150 more a month for this house--which is about what I was getting prior to the days it was a Section 8 house. Hopefully it will be rented soon.
Nope, Not Done
Two weeks ago--in December, the bank asked for new financial statements, up to and including December 30, 2014. Last week they asked for new financial statements up to and including January 9, 2015. It appears the only one who is working on this damn file is Bliz--who keeps taking up her weekend to give me new financial documents.
Last week when the bank once again asked for updated financial documents they did not ask for updated bank statements. So, I didn't send them. However, I am guessing they will ask for them some time this week. Oddly enough, the bank gets pissy when I send over unsolicited paper--like bank statements--that I know they will ask for in a day or so. How dare I second-guess them?
In other news, the other loan this particular mortgage company opted to modify without our knowledge went though. The payment is actually $30 more a month. Yay us. Now if they would just finish this first one.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
My Fifteen Minutes of Larceny
Approximately 67 minutes on December 23, after Bliz left on Christmas holiday trip to a very cold, Midwestern city, the mortgage company contacted us and gave us new demands. This, for those new readers, is the mortgage company which called due a second mortgage they hold for my home in North Centerpoint AND the same mortgage company which has decided to modify, then deny, then modify a first mortgage we have on the home in Chalkville.
Aren't you glad I caught you up so you won't be confused?
Anyway, what they wanted was more profit loss statements from me for the month of November and December. Mind you, we had already already given them this document back in November, and if they had just modified the loan back then, WE WOULD BE DONE WITH THIS NONSENSE.
But I digress...
Anyway, Bliz was on her way to some cold, windy, frozen Midwest city ready to enjoy her holiday, which didn't coincide with the bank's deadline of December 26. So, as I reported this to her she just texted back and said, "I will be home late Sunday night." Though I was frustrated with the idiots at the mortgage company, I was not really excited about Bliz spending her holiday helping me out with this last minute request anyway. Nobody else should have to deal with this fire drill.
Out of reasonable options, I sat down and started thinking about other solutions. Not to be deterred--after all, in the days before Photoshop I was pretty handy with layout and design. I optimistically took the old profit loss statement from November, put white-out tape on the dates and said to Marty Sunshine, "Yep, this will fool them." Mind you, the numbers hadn't changed, but we are talking about underwriters here. Surely they don't pay attention to such detail.
Unfortunately, we will never find out if underwriters do or do not pay attention to such detail. It turns out I am no longer handy with layout and design and the documents looked forged. So, we didn't submit them. Instead we sent back every other scrap of paper the mortgage company asked for, sans the P&Ls. This will not make them happy. But then again, nobody else is very happy about this either.
Aren't you glad I caught you up so you won't be confused?
Anyway, what they wanted was more profit loss statements from me for the month of November and December. Mind you, we had already already given them this document back in November, and if they had just modified the loan back then, WE WOULD BE DONE WITH THIS NONSENSE.
But I digress...
Anyway, Bliz was on her way to some cold, windy, frozen Midwest city ready to enjoy her holiday, which didn't coincide with the bank's deadline of December 26. So, as I reported this to her she just texted back and said, "I will be home late Sunday night." Though I was frustrated with the idiots at the mortgage company, I was not really excited about Bliz spending her holiday helping me out with this last minute request anyway. Nobody else should have to deal with this fire drill.
Out of reasonable options, I sat down and started thinking about other solutions. Not to be deterred--after all, in the days before Photoshop I was pretty handy with layout and design. I optimistically took the old profit loss statement from November, put white-out tape on the dates and said to Marty Sunshine, "Yep, this will fool them." Mind you, the numbers hadn't changed, but we are talking about underwriters here. Surely they don't pay attention to such detail.
Unfortunately, we will never find out if underwriters do or do not pay attention to such detail. It turns out I am no longer handy with layout and design and the documents looked forged. So, we didn't submit them. Instead we sent back every other scrap of paper the mortgage company asked for, sans the P&Ls. This will not make them happy. But then again, nobody else is very happy about this either.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Make It Stop
The Alabama Department of Revenue just got around to noticing my now-defunct accidental business hasn't paid them any money in more than two years. They are apparently unhappy about that and took the time to write me a letter, expressing just how disappointed they truly are.
Never mind that when we closed our doors we told them the company was no longer around. Never mind that I responded to their first request for money six months after we went belly-up with another copy of our last tax returns showing that we are indeed no longer in business. Nope. They waited until the end of 2014, dusting off our file just to tell me, "We want your money. Now."
This time I just wrote on the envelope, "Return to sender. This company does not exist at this address." Perhaps the message will start to sink in.
Never mind that when we closed our doors we told them the company was no longer around. Never mind that I responded to their first request for money six months after we went belly-up with another copy of our last tax returns showing that we are indeed no longer in business. Nope. They waited until the end of 2014, dusting off our file just to tell me, "We want your money. Now."
This time I just wrote on the envelope, "Return to sender. This company does not exist at this address." Perhaps the message will start to sink in.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Busywork
Marty did indeed get in touch with someone at the mortgage company. Sadly, the first customer service rep was probably lamenting being fired for being too friendly in her former job at the local Motor Vehicle Department. As it was explained to Marty, the bank wouldn't have denied his loan modification if he had just sent in the paperwork they asked for.
"I am under the impression we turned in everything that was asked for," Marty innocently stated.
"Well, you didn't. We sent you another letter asking for more," replied Miss Congeniality.
When Marty said he did not have another letter in our files and neither he, nor I, remember seeing another letter. All this savvy future diplomat said was, "That's not my problem. We sent it to you."
Twenty minutes and another customer service representative later, our file was re-opened and Marty was given yet another set of demands required of us. Mind you, none of this would be necessary if the bank hadn't called the loan due. They are causing our busywork. All of it.
And, because there is still some rain forest left, the bank has decided to "help" us and is (without our consent or knowledge) modifying another mortgage we have with them. They are requiring more paperwork from us, and could we please do this as soon as possible? Thanks. It also turns out saying, "This is utterly unnecessary, please leave this mortgage alone. We are fine," is not an option.
The second home in question--the one where the mortgage company randomly decided we needed to change the terms of our loan--is in the LLC Marty and I own without a partner. Though I received a denial letter from them last Friday--the first I heard this home's mortgage was under scrutiny--they are apparently only modifying this loan as a favor to us. However, I am not sure what exactly the "favor" is in this case. At any rate I stand corrected: they did not call this loan due. However, I am not sure what it means when they have already "denied" a loan modification for a home that does not need one, nor where we asked for any type of changes. What happens if they deny us again? Where does that leave this particular mortgage on this new home?
Fast forward a couple of days. All of the subsequent paperwork the mortgage company has asked for has now--again--been faxed to them. I did suggest to Marty that he may want to explain to them that if they had not bothered us to begin with, none of this would have been an issue.
"I am under the impression we turned in everything that was asked for," Marty innocently stated.
"Well, you didn't. We sent you another letter asking for more," replied Miss Congeniality.
When Marty said he did not have another letter in our files and neither he, nor I, remember seeing another letter. All this savvy future diplomat said was, "That's not my problem. We sent it to you."
Twenty minutes and another customer service representative later, our file was re-opened and Marty was given yet another set of demands required of us. Mind you, none of this would be necessary if the bank hadn't called the loan due. They are causing our busywork. All of it.
And, because there is still some rain forest left, the bank has decided to "help" us and is (without our consent or knowledge) modifying another mortgage we have with them. They are requiring more paperwork from us, and could we please do this as soon as possible? Thanks. It also turns out saying, "This is utterly unnecessary, please leave this mortgage alone. We are fine," is not an option.
The second home in question--the one where the mortgage company randomly decided we needed to change the terms of our loan--is in the LLC Marty and I own without a partner. Though I received a denial letter from them last Friday--the first I heard this home's mortgage was under scrutiny--they are apparently only modifying this loan as a favor to us. However, I am not sure what exactly the "favor" is in this case. At any rate I stand corrected: they did not call this loan due. However, I am not sure what it means when they have already "denied" a loan modification for a home that does not need one, nor where we asked for any type of changes. What happens if they deny us again? Where does that leave this particular mortgage on this new home?
Fast forward a couple of days. All of the subsequent paperwork the mortgage company has asked for has now--again--been faxed to them. I did suggest to Marty that he may want to explain to them that if they had not bothered us to begin with, none of this would have been an issue.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Denial
I may have mentioned we had a mortgage called due? I received this love letter from the mortgage company today telling me what they really think.
Despite the fact we sent them our tax returns on three separate occasions, Bliz jumped through a ton of hoops to take care of some financials they asked for and Marty and I have provided them with our private bank statements, business bank statements and DNA samples from our fathers, it wasn't good enough.
And to add insult to injury, this bank has now called due another mortgage on a different home. For the record, we pay our mortgages on time. We do what we are supposed to do. And apparently that isn't good enough.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Lunch with Mr. Partner
The American Medical Association recommends adults over a certain age get a colonoscopy every ten years as part of an overall wellness and healthy-living lifestyle. I believe this is also the same guidelines for me meeting with Mr. Partner.
Last week, I spent a few hours writing up a State-Of-Our-Alabama-Nonsense report. I carefully took time to put in lots of information, including but not limited to, the second mortgage we are trying to convince the bank to let us refinance, the flood at my Section 8 house and a litany of other items that I have just not had the lining stomach to write about.
Though I loathed doing so, instead of letting Marty Sunshine meet with Mr. Partner and discuss my fabulous report, I opted to tag along, figuring Mr. Partner hadn't bothered to even glance at my hard efforts. Marty was encouraged by this, given I would be a fresh voice, provided I could hold off the snark--which I wasn't promising.
The main item on our agenda was that I wanted money. Let me back up, we pay our home owner's insurance in July out of pocket. Property Taxes are due, also out of pocket, at the end of December. Additionally there are a few other bills that deserve some attention by the end of the year. Since 2008, all parties have had to put a few dollars in here and there, with Marty Sunshine and I putting in money first and Mr. and Mrs. Partner matching us when we get around to telling them it is time. This generally results in Mr. Partner being completely astonished this venture isn't profitable and citing some completely obscure 2007 scenario which will include us being in the black. Mr. Partner will then be reminded that 1) 2007 was many years ago, 2) we changed our business strategies when the housing market took a dive and restrictive owner-financing laws took affect, as a result we are now dealing with vacancies and turnovers, and 3) we go through this ever year and it should not come as a shock.
Generally when we have these conversations with Mr. Partner, he is not open to selling any home where we won't make a stellar profit. In all fairness, he isn't keen on vacancies, repairs or property management companies either. Somehow last week I managed to convince him that it is in our best interest to sell a few undesirable properties. On the list were a couple of homes that just don't cash flow. Though we don't want to sell them all at once, for fear of capital gains issues. Not that I am expecting him to remember, he did also acquiesce to a few capital improvements. In the end, I got the exact item I came for: a check from him, so that I don't have to figure out where I was going to get the money to pay the property taxes. And hopefully I won't have to attend another meeting with him for an additional 10 years.
Last week, I spent a few hours writing up a State-Of-Our-Alabama-Nonsense report. I carefully took time to put in lots of information, including but not limited to, the second mortgage we are trying to convince the bank to let us refinance, the flood at my Section 8 house and a litany of other items that I have just not had the lining stomach to write about.
Though I loathed doing so, instead of letting Marty Sunshine meet with Mr. Partner and discuss my fabulous report, I opted to tag along, figuring Mr. Partner hadn't bothered to even glance at my hard efforts. Marty was encouraged by this, given I would be a fresh voice, provided I could hold off the snark--which I wasn't promising.
The main item on our agenda was that I wanted money. Let me back up, we pay our home owner's insurance in July out of pocket. Property Taxes are due, also out of pocket, at the end of December. Additionally there are a few other bills that deserve some attention by the end of the year. Since 2008, all parties have had to put a few dollars in here and there, with Marty Sunshine and I putting in money first and Mr. and Mrs. Partner matching us when we get around to telling them it is time. This generally results in Mr. Partner being completely astonished this venture isn't profitable and citing some completely obscure 2007 scenario which will include us being in the black. Mr. Partner will then be reminded that 1) 2007 was many years ago, 2) we changed our business strategies when the housing market took a dive and restrictive owner-financing laws took affect, as a result we are now dealing with vacancies and turnovers, and 3) we go through this ever year and it should not come as a shock.
Generally when we have these conversations with Mr. Partner, he is not open to selling any home where we won't make a stellar profit. In all fairness, he isn't keen on vacancies, repairs or property management companies either. Somehow last week I managed to convince him that it is in our best interest to sell a few undesirable properties. On the list were a couple of homes that just don't cash flow. Though we don't want to sell them all at once, for fear of capital gains issues. Not that I am expecting him to remember, he did also acquiesce to a few capital improvements. In the end, I got the exact item I came for: a check from him, so that I don't have to figure out where I was going to get the money to pay the property taxes. And hopefully I won't have to attend another meeting with him for an additional 10 years.
Sunday, December 07, 2014
What I Discovered Two Weeks Ago
I know there are several readers who have a pressing desire to know this tid-bit. In Birmingham Alabama, in order to have a "gas pressure test" done at a home, one has to get permits from the city.
As of Today, 121 Days.
Last week I found a handy-dandy site on the Internet, which will conveniently tell me precisely how many days until April 6, 2015. For those who do not know the enormity of that particular day, it happens to be the Diamondback's opening day (they play San Francisco, for anyone who might keep up on such things). It also happens to be the day before Carolsue's birthday--so please start your shopping now.
Let's just say, that's what kind of Alabama week I was having. Lucky for you three readers it means a month or two worth of blogs while I try tosober catch up.
Every home I have has some sort of memorable tenant in them. Most of whom have received a nod or two in this blog. One of my more memorable "tenants" was a woman who received keys for the rental home and a notice from her doctor to proceed directly to the hospital and not to pass "Go" within an hour of each other. The tenant had an emergency double mastectomy and never moved in. Last I heard, by the way, the non-tenant survived.
I have a home in North Centerpoint. At one time it was Wayward's home, who was asked to leave. At another point, Ms. Robin lived there and moved to somewhere else. Then it was vacant and the economy was icky and I begrudgingly agreed to take a Section 8 tenant, whom is still there. I have been unhappy with this arrangement since the get-go.
In 2011, Kirby and I toured this home to find out that this tenant had a new Cadillac Escalade and a new Chevy Suburban. Though she didn't have a job or any outside obligations, both of her small children were in all-day childcare, leaving her to bask in the luxury of of her fine furnishings and amazingly exorbitant electronics. The day Kirby and I viewed this home, I commented that I don't live nearly this well. "She doesn't own anything in the home," he replied. "I have rental places calling me all the time tracking her down." And my ulcer grew larger.
Fast-forward to 2014. Luigi is now my property manager and Ms. Section 8 has repeatedly called him, threatening to move out if I don't "honor my word," which she states, ranges from me agreeing to (in 2011) to painting the house to installing new flooring--which, by the way, was installed in 2010. About once a month, she lords this over me, as some sort of veiled threat. Frankly, she did this to Kirby for years as well.
In this past October she called Luigi complaining her home was filled with an infestation of roaches, and what was I going to do about it? I replied back by saying she might want to get some bug spray. She then sicced the Section 8 people on me making the home somewhat uninhabitable and the Section 8 folks then said they weren't going to pay the rent on the property unless I made some repairs that she caused. At that point, I asked Luigi's folks just to send her a note asking her to move at the end of her lease.
I guess she didn't expect that.
As much as I wish I could tell you the story ends here, it doesn't.
On Thursday, Luigi's maintenance guy called me. He started out by introducing himself, which I thought was odd, because 1) we have talked numerous times this year and 2) his name came up on my phone as someone I had programmed in there. For about 10 minutes he beat around the bush, telling me there was "water leaking" out of a shower at Ms. Section 8's house and what did I want to do about it.
"Isn't she moving out?" I asked. "Can't we fix it when she is gone?"
His response was to repeat his comment, each time a bit more condescending, letting me know that I, the little woman, just wasn't grasping that water was dripping. I finally got sick of this particular game on the third go-round and directed him to call Marty Sunshine.
What Maintenance Guy managed to convey to Marty was really that a pipe broke inside the wall, Ms. Section 8 was barking about "toxic mold" and was threatening to leave if I didn't fix it right then and there. Marty authorized to get it fixed, but I did let Maintenance Guy guy know in the future he wouldn't have to jump through as many hoops if he had just been straight with me.
Also on Thursday, I discussed many, many, things with Luigi, including Ms. Section 8. Apparently, there was some talk from her that she wants to stay. There was much ranting from me that she HAS TO GO.
If Ms. Section 8 doesn't leave the home in the same condition she found it, then she doesn't have a voucher for the next landlord who wants her--which means she doesn't get free money. I'm ok with that too. This was my first, and hopefully last, foray into Section 8 housing. I was getting less than market rent and there are a lot of hoops to jump through. Here's hoping to a winning season with the next tenant.
Let's just say, that's what kind of Alabama week I was having. Lucky for you three readers it means a month or two worth of blogs while I try to
Every home I have has some sort of memorable tenant in them. Most of whom have received a nod or two in this blog. One of my more memorable "tenants" was a woman who received keys for the rental home and a notice from her doctor to proceed directly to the hospital and not to pass "Go" within an hour of each other. The tenant had an emergency double mastectomy and never moved in. Last I heard, by the way, the non-tenant survived.
I have a home in North Centerpoint. At one time it was Wayward's home, who was asked to leave. At another point, Ms. Robin lived there and moved to somewhere else. Then it was vacant and the economy was icky and I begrudgingly agreed to take a Section 8 tenant, whom is still there. I have been unhappy with this arrangement since the get-go.
In 2011, Kirby and I toured this home to find out that this tenant had a new Cadillac Escalade and a new Chevy Suburban. Though she didn't have a job or any outside obligations, both of her small children were in all-day childcare, leaving her to bask in the luxury of of her fine furnishings and amazingly exorbitant electronics. The day Kirby and I viewed this home, I commented that I don't live nearly this well. "She doesn't own anything in the home," he replied. "I have rental places calling me all the time tracking her down." And my ulcer grew larger.
Fast-forward to 2014. Luigi is now my property manager and Ms. Section 8 has repeatedly called him, threatening to move out if I don't "honor my word," which she states, ranges from me agreeing to (in 2011) to painting the house to installing new flooring--which, by the way, was installed in 2010. About once a month, she lords this over me, as some sort of veiled threat. Frankly, she did this to Kirby for years as well.
In this past October she called Luigi complaining her home was filled with an infestation of roaches, and what was I going to do about it? I replied back by saying she might want to get some bug spray. She then sicced the Section 8 people on me making the home somewhat uninhabitable and the Section 8 folks then said they weren't going to pay the rent on the property unless I made some repairs that she caused. At that point, I asked Luigi's folks just to send her a note asking her to move at the end of her lease.
I guess she didn't expect that.
As much as I wish I could tell you the story ends here, it doesn't.
On Thursday, Luigi's maintenance guy called me. He started out by introducing himself, which I thought was odd, because 1) we have talked numerous times this year and 2) his name came up on my phone as someone I had programmed in there. For about 10 minutes he beat around the bush, telling me there was "water leaking" out of a shower at Ms. Section 8's house and what did I want to do about it.
"Isn't she moving out?" I asked. "Can't we fix it when she is gone?"
His response was to repeat his comment, each time a bit more condescending, letting me know that I, the little woman, just wasn't grasping that water was dripping. I finally got sick of this particular game on the third go-round and directed him to call Marty Sunshine.
What Maintenance Guy managed to convey to Marty was really that a pipe broke inside the wall, Ms. Section 8 was barking about "toxic mold" and was threatening to leave if I didn't fix it right then and there. Marty authorized to get it fixed, but I did let Maintenance Guy guy know in the future he wouldn't have to jump through as many hoops if he had just been straight with me.
Also on Thursday, I discussed many, many, things with Luigi, including Ms. Section 8. Apparently, there was some talk from her that she wants to stay. There was much ranting from me that she HAS TO GO.
If Ms. Section 8 doesn't leave the home in the same condition she found it, then she doesn't have a voucher for the next landlord who wants her--which means she doesn't get free money. I'm ok with that too. This was my first, and hopefully last, foray into Section 8 housing. I was getting less than market rent and there are a lot of hoops to jump through. Here's hoping to a winning season with the next tenant.
Friday, December 05, 2014
Hysteria Lane Update
My home on Hysteria Lane is still vacant. To refresh your memory, I had a tenant who flooded my kitchen last February. The tenant was at fault for the damage, but still felt that I owed her a reduction in rent because the poor thing was inconvenienced for three days while the kitchen cabinet dried out. Mind you, she still had full use of the home. The entire incident was more expensive than the cost of your run-of-the-mill nuclear warhead. Fortunately I have insurance which covered most of it.
Because of this, the tenant stormed out in early July, never to be heard from again. At the time Mario was managing this rental. And frankly, he was doing a piss-poor job. In one month the home had been shown one time, with Mario telling me it was totally my fault it wasn't rented. After all, if I would just lower the rent to something obscenely stupid--even though for the past 10 years I had always gotten about $400 more a month--it would rent in a week.
In a moment of total bliss, I fired Mario and his minions last August and gave the home to Luigi.
In the past four months, I have gotten several applications on this home. Each one more questionable than the last. I finally asked Luigi's flunky (I am too tired to re-name these dudes right now) to only give me applications that were better than the first idiots I rejected.
'
And when I say these potential tenants were "idiots" please understand, this is no exaggeration. One set actually lied on the application, including, but not limited to, not wanting to give her current landlord's phone number. When Flunky found the landlord, we discovered why: the idiot had been late on rent ever month. Next.
Another wanted $200 off the rent in exchange for a two year lease. Please do the math: I should take a $2400 reduction in rent for the privilege of letting these folks live in my home. I might have considered some type of incentive (half a month's off one time, perhaps?) if they hadn't been a train wreck on paper. I couldn't keep track of the number of people who would be living in this home or their questionable employment.
The latest applicant sounds somewhat sane. However, the husband has a sizable child support judgement stemming back to 2001. But, the couple was kind enough to tell the truth on the application, make decent money (three times the rent) and provide reasonable references. The good news is he won't be buying a home any time soon and--if approved, mind you--that might keep them staying there for a while.
Because of this, the tenant stormed out in early July, never to be heard from again. At the time Mario was managing this rental. And frankly, he was doing a piss-poor job. In one month the home had been shown one time, with Mario telling me it was totally my fault it wasn't rented. After all, if I would just lower the rent to something obscenely stupid--even though for the past 10 years I had always gotten about $400 more a month--it would rent in a week.
In a moment of total bliss, I fired Mario and his minions last August and gave the home to Luigi.
In the past four months, I have gotten several applications on this home. Each one more questionable than the last. I finally asked Luigi's flunky (I am too tired to re-name these dudes right now) to only give me applications that were better than the first idiots I rejected.
'
And when I say these potential tenants were "idiots" please understand, this is no exaggeration. One set actually lied on the application, including, but not limited to, not wanting to give her current landlord's phone number. When Flunky found the landlord, we discovered why: the idiot had been late on rent ever month. Next.
Another wanted $200 off the rent in exchange for a two year lease. Please do the math: I should take a $2400 reduction in rent for the privilege of letting these folks live in my home. I might have considered some type of incentive (half a month's off one time, perhaps?) if they hadn't been a train wreck on paper. I couldn't keep track of the number of people who would be living in this home or their questionable employment.
The latest applicant sounds somewhat sane. However, the husband has a sizable child support judgement stemming back to 2001. But, the couple was kind enough to tell the truth on the application, make decent money (three times the rent) and provide reasonable references. The good news is he won't be buying a home any time soon and--if approved, mind you--that might keep them staying there for a while.
Thursday, December 04, 2014
Two Out Of Three Readers Just Can't Be Wrong
Well, two of my three readers this week innocently asked me where I had been. Here's the truth: I originally started this blog many years ago with Bliz in mind. She was my imaginary reader. (She is also my bookkeeper.) Then one day many years ago when I was feeling slightly vulnerable, I told her about this site. And, for about a year, she was my only reader. This was back in the olden days of the 2000s.
Technology being what it is, I now pretty much communicate with Bliz every day. However, we rarely talk about Alabama. Frankly, I have been avoiding Alabama (until this week) and would much rather discuss boys with her (nothing has really changed in the past 30+ years--except our "boys" are currently 16 and 12).
The other reason--and this one is slightly more of a concern, is that Marty Sunshine did something to my computer, making it necessary to hire a shaman and for me to become proficient in technological mumbo-jumbo in order to log into this site. If you are reading this blog, it means the money paid to the shaman was well spent--which is good, because I need my blog-therapy right now more than ever.
To ease you back into the drama of my accidental business, the mortgage that was called due a few months ago, is still called due. Although Marty and I have sent over everything they have requested to the bank, including a DNA sample from our cat, we are getting stupid requests from these folks. Now they want to see more papers. Though we sent them our tax statements for the past three years, they want to see them again. But this time, they want us to sign them. "They are signed," I pointed out to Marty. "We had to sign them when they were filed. Where are we supposed to put this new signature?"
He didn't have an answer to that.
The mortgage company also wants to see bank statements to bank accounts we don't have. Of course, the sane course of action would be to call the person who is requesting these items and explain their demands are slightly unreasonable and downright silly. But we aren't given a name, phone number or any type of distinguishing characteristics to find said, "mortgage representative." We are given a fax number, and asked to kindly turn in the papers of their choosing right about now. So, tomorrow I will fax over whatever they are asking for to make them happy--or at least what will make them be somewhat agreeable.
I really am not feeling totally reasonable right now. Personally, I would like to include in my communications, what exactly happens if we don't comply with their demands? However, Marty is asking me not to mention this little item. He is suggesting it might be a teensy bit argumentative, perhaps it is because I use a slightly more colorful vocabulary when he and I broach this topic in the privacy of our home.
Here is my G-rated reasoning for my question. The mortgage company can't take the house. This is a second mortgage. All they can do is put a lien on the property--which they already have in the form of a mortgage to begin with. So, even if we jump through these hoops and they are unsatisfied, I am pretty sure we will be at a stalemate.
Technology being what it is, I now pretty much communicate with Bliz every day. However, we rarely talk about Alabama. Frankly, I have been avoiding Alabama (until this week) and would much rather discuss boys with her (nothing has really changed in the past 30+ years--except our "boys" are currently 16 and 12).
The other reason--and this one is slightly more of a concern, is that Marty Sunshine did something to my computer, making it necessary to hire a shaman and for me to become proficient in technological mumbo-jumbo in order to log into this site. If you are reading this blog, it means the money paid to the shaman was well spent--which is good, because I need my blog-therapy right now more than ever.
To ease you back into the drama of my accidental business, the mortgage that was called due a few months ago, is still called due. Although Marty and I have sent over everything they have requested to the bank, including a DNA sample from our cat, we are getting stupid requests from these folks. Now they want to see more papers. Though we sent them our tax statements for the past three years, they want to see them again. But this time, they want us to sign them. "They are signed," I pointed out to Marty. "We had to sign them when they were filed. Where are we supposed to put this new signature?"
He didn't have an answer to that.
The mortgage company also wants to see bank statements to bank accounts we don't have. Of course, the sane course of action would be to call the person who is requesting these items and explain their demands are slightly unreasonable and downright silly. But we aren't given a name, phone number or any type of distinguishing characteristics to find said, "mortgage representative." We are given a fax number, and asked to kindly turn in the papers of their choosing right about now. So, tomorrow I will fax over whatever they are asking for to make them happy--or at least what will make them be somewhat agreeable.
I really am not feeling totally reasonable right now. Personally, I would like to include in my communications, what exactly happens if we don't comply with their demands? However, Marty is asking me not to mention this little item. He is suggesting it might be a teensy bit argumentative, perhaps it is because I use a slightly more colorful vocabulary when he and I broach this topic in the privacy of our home.
Here is my G-rated reasoning for my question. The mortgage company can't take the house. This is a second mortgage. All they can do is put a lien on the property--which they already have in the form of a mortgage to begin with. So, even if we jump through these hoops and they are unsatisfied, I am pretty sure we will be at a stalemate.
Tuesday, October 07, 2014
In Other News
I am told I finally have my Grayson Valley home rented to a professional football player and his girlfriend. This is not my first brush with the Somewhat Notable renting homes from me. I once had a divorced musician whose wife had a better lawyer. Birmingham was half way between his former home and Nashville. So he planted himself in one of my properties for a few years until his fortune changed.
Additionally, one time some morning drive-time radio personality wanted to rent my home. She had just moved to Birmingham from Los Angeles. Anyway, she rejected my rental because it wasn't "California enough."
Anyway, this new guy is apparently some sort of Alabama University (or is it University of Alabama? I can never remember which) former football star turned professional. I don't know what position he plays or even how long he has been in the pros. Heck, I have never heard of the dude before last week, but that's ok. Apparently there are lots of folks in Birmingham who would be gaga upon hearing such news. I am just hoping he stays healthy long enough to pay the rent.
Additionally, one time some morning drive-time radio personality wanted to rent my home. She had just moved to Birmingham from Los Angeles. Anyway, she rejected my rental because it wasn't "California enough."
Anyway, this new guy is apparently some sort of Alabama University (or is it University of Alabama? I can never remember which) former football star turned professional. I don't know what position he plays or even how long he has been in the pros. Heck, I have never heard of the dude before last week, but that's ok. Apparently there are lots of folks in Birmingham who would be gaga upon hearing such news. I am just hoping he stays healthy long enough to pay the rent.
Monday, October 06, 2014
Two Choices
It appears one of our mortgages has been called due by the bank. Apparently banks can do such things if they choose to. They gave us a six weeks to pay the entire balance in full or suffer the consequences.
At this time, I am not sure what the consequences happen to be. You see, it is a second mortgage. They can't foreclose. If we don't pay it, then what??? The bank is going to put a lien on our home? They already have a lien on our home in the form of a second mortgage (are you following along?). So, if they want their money they have one of two options.
1. Let me continue paying them like I am already doing.
2. Refuse to take my money, issue a lien on the home (which they already have in the form of a mortgage note) and ding my credit.
And if you really want to know how I feel, I just don't care which option they take at this point. Marty Sunshine does care though. And so does Mr. Partner. So, we came up with a possible third choice. We are going back to the bank andasking them what they are smoking politely ask them to reconsider.
So far, they have had us download a form that requires me to collect the equivalent of a small Peruvian rain forest in paperwork. Poor Bliz (who tells me this is what I pay her to do--which is true, but she has a real job and doesn't have time for the bank's deadline or my fire drill) has been sending me financial reports that I am editing in all my spare time. We are going back and forth with statements like, "I don't think that particular home had $5000 worth of expenses in June." and "You will have to ask Diamond Jim if you can claim the 16 gallons of Hagan Daas as an expense."
The form the bank is asking me to complete is a "hardship" form. There are multiple entries on there that I am supposed to check a box that best describes my hardship. However, none accurately depict our conundrum. When Marty talked to the bank customer service representative he explained the "hardship" just happens to be they are calling the note due and if they left it alone, there would be no hardship. The customer service rep didn't seem to understand Marty's point.
I am told we are to get this done immediately--especially in light of the fact they want everything completed by the end of the month. In addition to our financial statements they want our tax returns for the past two years and a million other documents. At this point, the bank will review the situation and make one of two decisions:
1. Let me continue paying them like I am already doing.
2. Refuse to take my money, issue a lien on the home (which they already have in the form of a mortgage note) and ding my credit.
At this time, I am not sure what the consequences happen to be. You see, it is a second mortgage. They can't foreclose. If we don't pay it, then what??? The bank is going to put a lien on our home? They already have a lien on our home in the form of a second mortgage (are you following along?). So, if they want their money they have one of two options.
1. Let me continue paying them like I am already doing.
2. Refuse to take my money, issue a lien on the home (which they already have in the form of a mortgage note) and ding my credit.
And if you really want to know how I feel, I just don't care which option they take at this point. Marty Sunshine does care though. And so does Mr. Partner. So, we came up with a possible third choice. We are going back to the bank and
So far, they have had us download a form that requires me to collect the equivalent of a small Peruvian rain forest in paperwork. Poor Bliz (who tells me this is what I pay her to do--which is true, but she has a real job and doesn't have time for the bank's deadline or my fire drill) has been sending me financial reports that I am editing in all my spare time. We are going back and forth with statements like, "I don't think that particular home had $5000 worth of expenses in June." and "You will have to ask Diamond Jim if you can claim the 16 gallons of Hagan Daas as an expense."
The form the bank is asking me to complete is a "hardship" form. There are multiple entries on there that I am supposed to check a box that best describes my hardship. However, none accurately depict our conundrum. When Marty talked to the bank customer service representative he explained the "hardship" just happens to be they are calling the note due and if they left it alone, there would be no hardship. The customer service rep didn't seem to understand Marty's point.
I am told we are to get this done immediately--especially in light of the fact they want everything completed by the end of the month. In addition to our financial statements they want our tax returns for the past two years and a million other documents. At this point, the bank will review the situation and make one of two decisions:
1. Let me continue paying them like I am already doing.
2. Refuse to take my money, issue a lien on the home (which they already have in the form of a mortgage note) and ding my credit.
Tuesday, September 09, 2014
Update on Fluffy and Puffy
In an unusual turn of events, Chris got a call a random call Sunday from his former tenants. Mind you, these folks abandoned the home three weeks ago! They wanted to know if they could go back into the home and grab the rest of their stuff.
I would like to have been a fly on the wall to see how that conversation went. Chris found a new home for Fluffy and Puffy on Saturday.
I would like to have been a fly on the wall to see how that conversation went. Chris found a new home for Fluffy and Puffy on Saturday.
Sunday, September 07, 2014
I Wish This Was A Baseball Post
While I am busy ignoring all things Alabama, I am frantically working to modify our under-capitalized financial position--which is the same thing as focusing on Alabama, but I digress...
Last Friday Chris asked me to meet him at his home. He was coming in from out of town. He owned a rental home for the past several years in the quiet east Phoenix suburb of Gilbert. He had the same tenants, who were "perfect" for the first four years and then in the past few months they were not so perfect. Chris, who had been totally spoiled when these folks were doing what they were supposed to do, was now burned out on the entire concept of rentals.
When I met Chris for the first time Friday afternoon, in 107 degree September Arizona heat, he had officially been in town 10 minutes. Five of those minutes were spent opening up his rental home and then standing in the driveway waiting for me. And because we had never met, and somehow it didn't come up in conversation when our mutual friend suggested he contact me, he had no idea I am phobic about snakes.
And if we can just sit back and chuckle over this irony for just a quick second. I am terrified of snakes--except if they happen to be Arizona's Major League Baseball team. I would much rather talk about those snakes.
Anyway, Chris got to the house before me. Opened it up to find out that his ideal tenants had left behind a boatload of personal property. However, they had sold Chris' washer and dryer he had bought for them to use five years ago. There was junk from end to end in this home. The little girls' room (I am assuming it was a young girl because of what was left in there) was painted--and I am not making this up--black.
Black was a running theme in the home too. The master bathroom was also painted black. The bathtubs were black. The carpet was black in spots. And because the power was off (did I mention it was 107 degrees?) I refused to let Chris open the refrigerator and find out the inside was black too. And behind all the junk was damaged walls, broken ceiling fans and many other issues that poor Chris just didn't really need to be part of his life.
And oh yes, the tenants left behind some of their beloved pets too. I named them Fluffy and Puffy. I also told Chris to let me know when they were gone and I would be happy to step foot in the home again.
Though I find this highly disturbing (and did not take it in spirit it was intended when my broker showed up 20 minutes later and suggested a third one had escaped and was now by my foot) it was not nearly as disturbing as the picture below when you take into consideration there was dog food lying around, dog toys and no dog. By the way, this buried spot was in the front yard.
Last Friday Chris asked me to meet him at his home. He was coming in from out of town. He owned a rental home for the past several years in the quiet east Phoenix suburb of Gilbert. He had the same tenants, who were "perfect" for the first four years and then in the past few months they were not so perfect. Chris, who had been totally spoiled when these folks were doing what they were supposed to do, was now burned out on the entire concept of rentals.
When I met Chris for the first time Friday afternoon, in 107 degree September Arizona heat, he had officially been in town 10 minutes. Five of those minutes were spent opening up his rental home and then standing in the driveway waiting for me. And because we had never met, and somehow it didn't come up in conversation when our mutual friend suggested he contact me, he had no idea I am phobic about snakes.
And if we can just sit back and chuckle over this irony for just a quick second. I am terrified of snakes--except if they happen to be Arizona's Major League Baseball team. I would much rather talk about those snakes.
Anyway, Chris got to the house before me. Opened it up to find out that his ideal tenants had left behind a boatload of personal property. However, they had sold Chris' washer and dryer he had bought for them to use five years ago. There was junk from end to end in this home. The little girls' room (I am assuming it was a young girl because of what was left in there) was painted--and I am not making this up--black.
Black was a running theme in the home too. The master bathroom was also painted black. The bathtubs were black. The carpet was black in spots. And because the power was off (did I mention it was 107 degrees?) I refused to let Chris open the refrigerator and find out the inside was black too. And behind all the junk was damaged walls, broken ceiling fans and many other issues that poor Chris just didn't really need to be part of his life.
And oh yes, the tenants left behind some of their beloved pets too. I named them Fluffy and Puffy. I also told Chris to let me know when they were gone and I would be happy to step foot in the home again.
Though I find this highly disturbing (and did not take it in spirit it was intended when my broker showed up 20 minutes later and suggested a third one had escaped and was now by my foot) it was not nearly as disturbing as the picture below when you take into consideration there was dog food lying around, dog toys and no dog. By the way, this buried spot was in the front yard.
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