{"id":8794,"date":"2013-03-22T18:47:49","date_gmt":"2013-03-22T22:47:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=8794"},"modified":"2013-03-22T18:47:49","modified_gmt":"2013-03-22T22:47:49","slug":"mutterings-of-a-grumpy-landlord","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=8794","title":{"rendered":"Mutterings of a Grumpy Landlord\u2026"},"content":{"rendered":"

photo-2-small.JPG<\/a><\/p>\n

And then, gripping their greasy little wads of money, as if
\nin the knowledge that all reward below these fierce and
\ncruel skies must be wrenched painfully and minutely from
\na stony earth, they went in to pay him.<\/p>\n

—Thomas Wolfe: Of Time and the River<\/em>
\n_________________________________<\/p>\n

It always sounds so perfectly sensible when you read about it in the real estate ads. Two unit on such and such a street. Well maintained. Easy financing. Live in one and rent the other. That’s the killer line. That and, Let your tenant help pay your mortgage. It sounds so simple. And perfectly logical, on paper. But I\u2019m here to tell you, the reality is nowhere even close to that bright little scenario. <\/p>\n

I remember how it was back in early 2000, when I stumbled onto the house that has been my home ever since. Ellen and I were engaged. I was struggling along as a novice attorney (I never was more than that, a novice), not making a whole lot. Neither of us had much saved up. And we needed a house. August was coming. And the wedding date. <\/p>\n

I happened to mention something to an Amish client one day. A guy who owned a very successful construction business. He\u2019d branched off into investing in commercial real estate. And I did his legal work, writing up leases and such. And one day over lunch I asked him. Do you know of a house for sale that I could buy? I need to find something soon. We\u2019re getting married in August. And he smiled. \u201cYou bet I know of a house for sale,\u201d he said. \u201cI have one I\u2019d sell you, over in the New Holland area.\u201d I was instantly interested. Would you finance? \u201cSure would,\u201d he said agreeably. <\/p>\n

So the following Saturday afternoon, Ellen and I picked up the Amish guy at his home, and we drove over to see the house. My brother Steve and his wife Wilma met us there. And we walked through. Nothing fancy. An old two-story brick house. Two units. The upstairs was a separate apartment. Downstairs, where we would live was a little bigger, with an attached porch. Ellen and I were impressed. Nothing fancy, like I said. But nice enough. We could make a home of this place. <\/p>\n

And the Amish guy told us. \u201cBob lives upstairs. He works for me. Drives my crews. He\u2019s good for the rent. Five hundred a month. That\u2019ll help with your mortgage.\u201d We met Bob. A wizened guy, in his fifties, probably. Friendly, not real bright. He lived upstairs with his cat. <\/p>\n

We bought the house, and settled in after the wedding. It was nice enough, downstairs. Old wood trim, natural, never painted. The only problem I could see was that they must not have had electricity back when the house was built. Every wall on all four sides seemed to be nothing more than many large, and I mean large, windows. Old windows. Decrepit windows that leaked in the wind. <\/p>\n

And it all seemed like it would work out real nice, this landlord thing. Bob went to work every day, and he generally paid the rent on time. Five hundred cool bucks every month. Our mortgage was around $1100.00, so it really helped. And that was our reality for a year or two. Bob was completely alone in the world. He had no one. So we tried to include him when we could. When we had friends over for a cookout. At Thanksgiving. And during the Christmas holidays. He was rough, unvarnished. But he had a kind heart. And he paid his rent on time. At least the first while. <\/p>\n

It could not last, sadly. Bob had a fallout with the Amish guy, and quit. Went to work where his heart really was. At the local golf club, as a groundskeeper. Which is very nice, doing what you love. Problem was, the local groundskeeper job paid him about half of what he was making before. And things got real tight, real fast. He didn\u2019t know how to manage his budget. And it seemed like the landlord was always the last guy on his list to pay. We had a few stern talks. Look, Bob. You\u2019re behind two months on the rent. Come on, get me some money. He saw right through me, though, and knew I didn\u2019t have it in me to kick him out into the streets. <\/p>\n

And things just spiraled down. His old pickup gave out one day, over in Leola. I went and pulled him home with a tow strap. He somehow cobbled together a small loan from someone for an old clunker of a car. He clattered around in that until one Saturday afternoon when I got home from somewhere. The car was parked in the drive, hood up. Bob stood there, looking perplexed. He\u2019d just hooked up a new battery. I walked up. Little slivers of smoke drifted from various parts of the engine, and wires here and there crackled and popped and pulsed as if alive. \u201cThe thing\u2019s smoking,\u201d Bob proclaimed. Well, yeah, I can see that, I answered, checking it out. You got the battery hooked up backward. Positive on negative and negative on positive. I yanked the cables off. But it was too late. All the wiring was fried. And that was it, for his wheels. He just couldn\u2019t win, seemed like. I dug out an old bicycle I had in the garage and gave that to him. And the man got up at 3:30 each morning and biked 6 miles to his job on the golf course, to water the greens before the first golfers arrived. <\/p>\n

The end approached. And Bob left us one day. Claimed he\u2019d cleaned everything upstairs. He had not. He left us with a trashed apartment and about $1200.00 in unpaid back rent. He also left some belongings in the garage. Hunting equipment. Bows. Tools, hammers and such. An old tobacco press. And buckets and buckets of golf balls. I had a fire sale on the abandoned items, except the tobacco press. Got about half his back rent back. And paid about half of that to three Amish ladies who live close by, to come and clean the mess he had left. I muttered savagely under my breath. And I never saw Bob again. <\/p>\n

After Bob left, we rented the apartment to a brother and sister who had drifted in from western PA to find work. They were from hard, poor stock, and it was always a little dicey, getting them to keep current with the rent. But when they left, the place was clean, and they didn\u2019t owe me a dime. Then came a raggedy line of just flat out losers. The single lady and her teenage daughter. The only tenants I\u2019ve ever had to evict. She burned me for over a grand. Then the friend of a friend, and her friend. Lots of adventures and drama, there. I\u2019ve told it all before.<\/a> No need to repeat. They left me about even, money wise, just hugely burned out from dealing with people living right above my head. <\/p>\n

Like the ads say, live in one and rent the other. Let the tenant help pay the mortgage. Yeah. Sure. That really works. <\/p>\n

The last tenant ever to live upstairs was a young guy in his low 20s. Moving out on his own for the first time. \u201cHarvey\u201d was quiet, never made much fuss. Before he moved in, he asked if he could paint up there. Paint what? I asked. \u201cOh, some of the walls,\u201d he said vaguely. Sure, no problem, I said. Paint away, any color you like. And he did. The kitchen a pale red. One bedroom a hard, hard loud green. The living room, a deep dark brown, almost black. Except one wall. That was kind of yellowish orange, a color I’m sure has some modern name I’ve never heard of. I gaped a bit when I saw what he was doing. But hey, it was paint. What could it hurt?<\/p>\n

Harvey was simply the best tenant I\u2019ve ever had. The little real estate ads would be totally accurate, if all tenants were like him. He was quiet. Paid his rent on time. Made no trouble at all. When I’d leave for a few days over a weekend, I’d tell him. Have a party. I’m not around. Be as loud as you want. He had friends visiting from out of town sometimes, but he always told me. I was all set, for a long term tenant, with him up there. Sadly, though, after about a year and a half, Harvey gave his notice. His Mom wasn\u2019t doing well. He had to move back home to take care of her. I grumbled at him. Come on, what am I going to do now? You\u2019re my best tenant ever. Harvey laughed. And he moved out, leaving me with an impeccably clean apartment with wildly painted walls.<\/p>\n

And I just didn\u2019t have the energy, to go look for someone else to rent to. It was in early 2011, and I was immersed in the final edits of my book. Plus, I was in a weird state, mentally. My book was coming out in July. In my world at that time, the sun rose and set on the coming fulfillment of that wild strange dream that was coming true. Sure, I told people. If you know of anyone, send them over. I\u2019ll pay a hundred bucks to any person that finds me a suitable tenant. And a prospect showed up, now and then. But nothing ever worked out. And it didn\u2019t bother me one bit. I got to liking it a lot, just living alone in my house. No fuss, no hassles, no chasing after people for rent. I missed the money, of course. But I\u2019d rather live alone than deal with the incessant, draining stress of a problem tenant.<\/p>\n

An old house is a money trap. I live in an old house. And that\u2019s what I thought about, when my first check arrived from Tyndale. The house. It needs new windows. I\u2019ll do half of them at a time, I figured. The west and north sides first. That’s where the cold winds come from. Then, if the book does OK, the south and east sides next year. I called an Amish contractor. He came and gave me a quote. And that\u2019s what I did. The twenty-five or so windows were all replaced, over the course of two summers. Now the heating bill would be less. A lot less. I could sure use a tenant upstairs, though, to help pay for all those windows. <\/p>\n

And right at a year ago, it came to me. A real estate guy. Talk to one. They find renters, for a fee. So I called one, an acquaintance. A highly respected local agent, totally connected in the area. A guy who had a reputation for renting apartments and houses. Would you help me find a tenant? \u201cSure,\u201d he said. \u201cLet me come around and check out what you have. I\u2019ll take some pictures and post it on my site.\u201d Great, I said. I\u2019ll leave the door unlocked. Go right on up and check it out. And that\u2019s how we left it. He came. And I waited to hear from him. Nothing. Well, he’s surely got it linked to his site, I thought. I was busy, with a lot of book-related things. So I let it slide for a couple of months. Still no word from him. So I called one day and left a message. Haven\u2019t heard from you, or from any prospective tenants. What\u2019s going on?<\/p>\n

He called back. \u201cI thought I left you a message.\u201d Well, you didn\u2019t, I said. \u201cI can\u2019t take your apartment,\u201d he said. \u201cIt needs work. A total overhaul. New carpet and painting. New cabinets, new appliances. The way it is, you\u2019ll attract no one who has any credit.\u201d Well, thanks a lot, I thought. For letting me know. I\u2019ve been waiting for two months. And I asked him. How much do you think it\u2019ll take to fix it up? \u201cOh, $6,000.00 to $10,000.00,\u201d he said breezily. \u201cThat\u2019ll get it nice. I\u2019ll be able to rent it out then.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was pretty furious at the guy. Not at what he said. My apartment is a dump, was what he was telling me. And that was fair enough. But that he didn\u2019t get back to me. I wasn\u2019t worth the time for even a simple phone call. I won\u2019t name him, but I will say this much. When you’re selling a service, I don’t care how unimportant your client seems, or how dumpy the apartment is that he’s trying to rent out, you better call him back. You just better. <\/p>\n

Generally, nothing happens on its own. Not if you don\u2019t shake things. So no tenant showed up. I walked upstairs now and then. Kept the place clean, kept the mouse poison out. I realized, though, that I needed to get someone in there. A place that\u2019s not lived in falls apart on its own. And about a month ago, it all came together. The plan. <\/p>\n

I was over at my friend Tricia\u2019s little salon one evening after work, getting my hair cut. I\u2019ve known Trish for more than twenty years. She\u2019s pretty much the only person in the world who\u2019s been allowed to cut my hair during that time, except for when I was out of the area. And no other hair stylist anywhere has ever met her standards. We\u2019ve become good friends over the years. I saw her raise her children. Move around the area, here and there. I always followed her, wherever she went, to get my hair cut. Way early on, I told her where I’d come from. She saw me graduate from college, go to law school. And she was there through everything that\u2019s happened since. Good and bad and good. Yeah, I’d say we know each other pretty well. <\/p>\n

Back in 2004, she got her real estate license and went to work part time at Hostetter Realty, a very solid and respectable firm in the county. She told me about it, how it went, all the adventures involved. And that night, I told her that I’m actually looking for someone to rent my apartment. Is that something you could do for me? Find a good renter?<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll stop by next week and put up a sign. I\u2019ll put it on our website. We\u2019ll find you a renter.\u201d It\u2019s not a high class place, I told her. The other realtor basically told me it\u2019s a dump. \u201cI\u2019ll get you a renter,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n

And she stopped by one evening, as she\u2019d promised. I took her upstairs and showed her the place. And I give her plenty of credit. She had to be shocked at the paint job. But she smiled bravely. \u201cWe\u2019ll see what we can do,\u201d she said. I took the large metal sign from her and punched it into my yard out by the road. Apartment for Rent. Call Hostetter Realty. If this didn\u2019t work, I figured, I might as well give it all up. Either spend the money to remodel the place, or just live without a renter. <\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t take long for the first prospect to show up. A few days later, a text from Trish. I got a guy wanting to stop in tonight at seven. He\u2019s good. I ran the credit check. OK, I texted back. And that evening, right at seven, a knock on my door. Heavy set guy with a naturally tonsured haircut. He introduced himself. \u201cI\u2019m from Jersey. I worked for 30 years as an engineer for a defense contractor. Got laid off, and now I\u2019m working locally here. I\u2019m around only during the week.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s good, I thought. Laid off from a defense contractor. I wish a whole lot more people would get laid off from jobs like that. Merchants of blood, is what defense contractors are, feeding a perpetual stream of murder in the racket that is war. Looking at the guy, I knew he wouldn\u2019t take the apartment. We walked up. He peered around a bit, asked a few questions. \u201cIt\u2019s a little bigger than I need,\u201d he mumbled. Yup, I said. That\u2019s fine. He fled to his car and left. Strike one, I thought. <\/p>\n

A week or so later, another text from Trish. A guy wants to stop in tomorrow night at seven. Great, I texted back. And the next night, a very fancy late model Toyota SUV pulled in. Seeing that, I knew it wasn\u2019t going to work. A man and his wife got out. I met them in the front yard. They lived in Virginia, and their son attended college in the area. So he\u2019d live here, and they would show up once in a while. <\/p>\n

The man was nice and polite. His wife was not. We walked up, and she grimaced visibly at the loud paint on the walls. Wrinkled her nose a good bit. Asked a couple of curt questions. The man and I chatted, off to one side. She walked through, poking through the kitchen cabinets and staring grimly at the appliances. Then she returned to where we stood at the top of the stairs. <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve seen enough,\u201d she sniffed. That was viscous. It really was. Well, what do you expect, woman, for $525.00 a month in this area? I thought. If you weren\u2019t so cheap, none of us would have wasted our time, including Trish. Go pay $800.00 a month for the place you figured you might find here. I bit my tongue, though. Her kind husband smiled a little plaintively at me. \u201cWe know where the realtor is, if we decide to take it,\u201d he said. Yes, yes, I smiled back. They showed themselves out. <\/p>\n

I stayed upstairs and peeped out the window as they walked to their SUV. The man stopped and picked up a tiny branch on the drive and carefully placed it on the grass, so it wouldn\u2019t sully the shiny tires on his vehicle when they drove out. Lord, protect me from people like that, I thought. I\u2019d rather have no one up here than to deal with that woman. And I texted Trish. It did not go well. Those people were snobs. Send me a redneck. We\u2019ll find someone, she texted back. And I realized at that moment that the main reason she had ever agreed to try to rent my apartment was because she was my friend. <\/p>\n

And last Saturday afternoon, she got me the person I was looking for. He showed up promptly at five, as scheduled. An older guy, probably ten years older than me. Lean and fit and talkative. He worked in Leola, had a good job for years. A nice house and a wife. And last year, he said, after 27 years of marriage, she had decided to divorce him. Ah, that\u2019s gotta hurt, I said. Mine only lasted seven years. My ex decided to divorce me, too. So I know a bit about how it is, that pain. But not 27 years\u2019 worth. <\/p>\n

He seemed to like the place. Could he paint the walls? Absolutely, I said. Any color you want, as long as I don\u2019t have to pay for it. I don\u2019t care what you do, as long as you don\u2019t structurally damage my house, you pay the rent on time, and you don\u2019t disturb my peace. Heck, run a moonshine still up here, for all I care. He laughed. And we got along just fine. He took my phone number. And just as he was leaving, another prospect was waiting outside. Trish had craftily scheduled two, right after each other. This is a busy place today, I said, conversationally. Lots of tenants lining right up. <\/p>\n

I showed the apartment to the second prospect, a nice lady. And just as she left, the first guy called back. He wanted it. Could he stop by tomorrow? He could, I said. And he did, the next afternoon. I had the lease ready. We went over it. The lease starts April 1st, but he has immediate access, to get his painting done and get the carpets cleaned. We both signed two copies, and he gave me a check. Here\u2019s hoping that I will have no more tenant adventures to write about again. Ever. <\/p>\n

The next day, I sent Trish her finder\u2019s fee, one month\u2019s rent. She put in a lot of work, for that measly amount. But she came through for me, as only a friend could. Had I been just some guy off the street, she would have called me back, though. Unlike that other well-known realtor. She would have, because that’s who she is. I highly recommend<\/a> her, if you\u2019re ever in the market for real estate here in Lancaster County. As a buyer or a seller. She will do what she tells you she will. <\/p>\n

And that\u2019s the story of how I got a tenant, after more than two years of living without one. Believe me, if I ever move to another house, there\u2019s one thing it will not have. It will not have an apartment to rent to help pay the mortgage. And I will be one happy guy.
\n*********************************************<\/p>\n

Well, spring is here. At least the date, if not the weather. March is moving right along at a good clip, seems like. Way faster than February did. And next weekend, baseball season opens. I’m liking that a lot. A sport I can actually “watch” every night. I can\u2019t wait to have my writing noise back again, off to the side. <\/p>\n

Next weekend is also Easter Sunday. A day to reflect on the most important historical event any Christian will ever celebrate. Jesus came for the captives. He came for us. Yeah, that means you. And yeah, that means me. It means anyone who believes and trusts in Him. And here I speak to those who do believe, wherever you are. Even if your faith is very small, like a mustard seed. Like mine is, way too often. <\/p>\n

Because He rose again, we are free. Free in the joy of our salvation. And free to live and speak our hearts. <\/p>\n

I wish a blessed Easter to all my readers. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And then, gripping their greasy little wads of money, as if in the knowledge that all reward below these fierce and cruel skies must be wrenched painfully and minutely from a stony earth, they went in to pay him. —Thomas Wolfe: Of Time and the River _________________________________ It always sounds so perfectly sensible when you […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8794","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8794","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8794"}],"version-history":[{"count":234,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8794\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9029,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8794\/revisions\/9029"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8794"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8794"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8794"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}