I had done all the necessary legwork, researched everything I could and was excited at the prospect of being a landlord—I felt pretty savvy actually—my girlfriend was not so confident in my abilities, and I think it’s for this very reason she tagged along.
I’m not afraid to admit that.
If I didn’t say it already, I’m dealing with POS houses right now, not warzones, but not someplace Vanilla Ice (even during his heyday) would hang out at either.
The first POS property was prospected from Craigslist and was acquired from a burnt out landlord who was treading water with the amount of deferred maintenance and number of properties he was carrying, all while working for UPS.
I give him credit. He was working harder than most–and doing the right things, maybe he just bit off a bit too much, too early. That’s what it takes to get this thing off the ground sometimes.
Nice guy, and I got a lot of advice and promises from him, but he left a mess, and I assume rightfully so, being that I purchased this duplex on discount.
There’s nothing like feeling you’ve finally found the right tenant, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt that way, only to have the proverbial red flag thrown in my jaw dropped face of disbelief. Did they just say, do—what the…no, they…ugh. Dang it.
This was definitely not one of those times.
Well, at first anyways.
The Honeymoon Phase
It started out pretty promising in fact, a glowing credit check, no evictions, no criminal record. A little address mismatch, but that could be cleared with a driver’s license.
An offering of breakfast tacos followed, and a few initials later, I was handing over the keys, and finalizing the details to what would hopefully be a rare, quiet year.