It’s Getting Hot in Here

I received a call from the Building Manager that something is wrong with one of my tenants.   He would like it very much if I would visit the tenant right away.

“Joe” is a middle aged single man who has never given us any kind of problem.   While I head up the stairs, I notice a faint mist in the air.   It’s not raining so this is really odd.

As I approach the front door to the apartment the mist is heavier in the air but I don’t know where it is coming from.

Joe answers the door almost immediately wearing only his “tightie whities” and a big grin.   He is covered in sweat from head to toe and the apartment is full of steam that comes billowing out from behind him.

Once the initial cloud is gone, I can see several different types of humidifiers throughout the living area.  All of the hot water is on full blast from every faucet.  This complex has central water heating so he has an unlimited supply of hot water.   When I get to the kitchen, I explain to Joe that I need to turn off the stove and oven.  He has all the burners on high and the oven is also on with the door wide open.

Joe explains that he was just enjoying a good steam bath.   Uh, okay.  I wasn’t going to argue with a sweaty man in his underwear.

After a little encouragement to get his clothes on, I took him back to the office with me and we called his next of kin, a sister.  She came to pick him up soon thereafter.

I don’t know what happened to Joe that day.  I wonder if it was something building up over time or did he just snap.  His belongings were eventually removed by family members and I never saw him again.

Getting the Crazy Out

A young gentleman was looking to relocate to our beautiful island neighborhood from the mainland.  He  submits an application and is thoroughly screened.  He has more than enough income, excellent credit and great references.  

He signs our Rental Agreement and mails in his security deposit.   He will be arriving in Hawaii shortly and we prepare the apartment for his arrival.

Now, I know you can’t and shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.  (It’s a very good way to get yourself sued for discrimination.)  But we weren’t expecting what walked into our office that day.   He was well spoken, friendly and very polite.   But he was also dirty, smelly and looked liked he just crawled out from under a rock. 

He is in our unit for a year or so before the first sign of trouble.  He pushes a stranger off the sidewalk and into the highway because he “sees the devil in his eyes”.   Shortly thereafter he is overheard saying that he is ready to start his own “Manson Family”.    But nobody tells my office.  Management of the complex made it clear when he moved in that they didn’t like how he looked, but nobody EVER SAID A WORD to my office about either of these incidents.  We have no idea that there is something wrong with him.  Very wrong.

But I find out soon enough.  On Christmas Day, he has an incident at the complex and has to be pepper sprayed and removed by the police.    The complex management is not happy about this and demands that I immediately evict him.  I call his next of kin on the mainland and am told that he is indeed schizophrenic and needs to stay on his meds.   No surprise there. 

I understand why management doesn’t want this guy around anymore.   Although he is “normal” most of the time, he is mentally ill and his appearance and antics are frightening to other residents.   But he has to live somewhere and I’m not all that sure that evicting him is the appropriate thing to do.   

Management doesn’t let go of this.  He has to be evicted.  If I don’t do it, they will and this will likely cost my property owner thousands of dollars more in legal fees than if I handle it.   When I ask my attorney if we should just let management evict him, the response is “you let crazy in, you need to get crazy out”.  

The court date arrives and a settlement is reached in the hallway.   The tenant, accompanied by his social worker (where the hell has she been this whole time?), agrees to vacate the following week.  When the case is recalled in front of the Judge, our friend changes his mind right there on the spot and demands his day in court.  Everyone is shocked as the Judge sets the case for trial in two weeks. 

The tenant comes to see me a few days later.   I promptly tell him that I cannot discuss the case with him and that he must contact the attorney.   He has the most pathetic, rejected look on his face that I have ever seen.   It is painful to look at him with tears welling in his big eyes.   He is looking at me for help.   Why am I doing this to him?  Where is he supposed to go?  My heart is breaking for him but my brain quickly reminds me that my duty and obligation is to the property owner.   I therefore remind him that he is only delaying the inevitable and there is no point in staying somewhere where he is not wanted.  He leaves without incident.

My attorney is concerned.   He is working diligently toward a settlement with this tenant because he feels that it is quite possible that we could LOSE this case if it goes to trial based on the tenant’s disability. 

A few more days pass and management becomes hysterical when they learn that the tenant is moving into another unit in the same building.  They want to know how this could happen.  How should I know?   I don’t control the whole complex.  I was told to get him out of my unit and I did that.  

The whole experience has left me very sad and confused.   I was told to get rid of this tenant by management, only for him to relocate into another unit in the same building.  Now that unit owner has a paying tenant and my owner has nothing.  Prospective tenants aren’t exactly knocking down the door to move into this building either so I don’t know how long it will sit vacant.   So I ask, who is the real “crazy”?

Copper Capers

How many problems can you have with the pipes under your house?  This month alone we had three problems, at three different properties, and for three entirely different reasons.  

Our neighborhood was recently hit with a major storm.   It starts just as we all leave the office to head home one evening.  It is pouring and there is thunder and lightening everywhere.  Soon enough a call comes in to our emergency line that the lightening has hit an exposed plumbing pipe at one of our occupied rentals and the pipe has exploded.  I could see the geyser in the air as I drove toward the property.   The police are already there and the tenants had just finished turning off the water at the main shut off valve.  Just as I stepped out of my car in the pouring rain, the lightening flashed across the sky.   I immediately retreated back to my car while shouting at the tenant to go to a hotel since they had no water and no electricity.   It was expensive, but it was the right thing to do.

A few days later, we receive a call that both toilets in a duplex are backing up.  The plumber crawls under the house and dismantles the pipes to clear the clog.   Our plumbing contractors are required to notify us of the cause of the clog in order for us to bill the appropriate party.   The clog is in the mainline that serves two occupied units so we need to do more investigating to see which side it came from.   The plumber goes on to explain that there was a plastic bag like the type you put vegetables in from the store.   No help there.  That could have come from either side.    The other item is a red condom.   Yes, a red condom.   I promptly decide that this particular investigation is now over.   The tenants are reminded not to throw foreign objects in the toilet.  The owner will have to pay the bill.

We have a vacant house that we have been showing to prospective tenants.  I stop by to check on it and make sure it is clean and ready for the next showing.   It needs a little touch-up here and there so I grab a napkin and decide to wipe down the kitchen counters.   But there is no water.   I don’t understand.  There was water a few days ago.  No one had any reason to turn it off.  We call the City to see what has happened to our service.  They are perplexed as well and dispatch a truck to the property.  Soon enough they call to inform us that we have no water because someone has crawled under the house and stolen all of the copper pipes.   How desperate do you have to be to crawl under a house and steal pipes?

It promises to be another fascinating year beginning with exploding, clogged, and completely missing plumbing pipes.

Buckets Full

I manage a second floor unit in a three-story walk-up.

The tenant calls and is hysterical.   She pleads with me to get over there right away.  When pressed for specifics, the only thing the tenant will say is that she has buckets everywhere. 

Sounds to me like a water pipe has busted upstairs.   While jumping into my car, I call the Resident Manager to get more information and to ask that the water to this building be turned off until I know what is going on.   No answer.

Within ten minutes I arrive on scene to find an ambulance racing away and the Resident Manager and police in front of the building.   This must be one heck of a water leak.

My tenant is sitting on the stairs outside.  She looks up at me with her pale and sad face and says that there is blood, lots of blood.

I dash upstairs and into my unit.   I feel as though I just entered a horror movie.  There is red water running down the walls of the bathroom, the adjacent kitchen, the hallway and the bedroom.  It has filled the light fixtures and is overflowing out of buckets on the floor.  It has saturated the carpeting and is all over the tenant’s personal belongings.  

There is a cop talking behind me but I don’t hear a word he is saying.  I am walking around the unit in total astonishment.    My brain is telling me to get out of there, but yet I am fascinated at the same time.   What has caused this?  Where is it coming from?  I need answers.

Soon I am able to focus again and the policeman tells me that the guy upstairs destroyed his unit, including his toilet plumbing, and then attempted suicide.   What I was seeing was the result of a large plumbing leak mixed with blood.   I was amazed by the amount of blood you can lose and still live.  Yes, unbelieveably this guy survived. 

I dreaded making that phone call to the property owner.   “Hi, how are you?  There’s blood all over your unit.”  There was a big sigh and he said that he knew I would take care of it.   I have permission to do what I have to do.  

The unit is of course uninhabitable and is declared hazardous.  The tenant is relocated and the restoration begins.  Everything in the property must be removed including the walls and the floors.  Does the unit upstairs have any insurance?  Of course not.  

And so another day in the life of a Property Manager begins.

Bathroom Break

I distinctly remember driving along the highway that morning, drinking loads of caffeine, and thinking that things are looking up.  Things are getting better.   I’m feeling good.  It’s going to be a great day. 

This is a newly assigned condominium unit and my job today is to meet a contractor there to formulate a work order repair list.   It is some 30 miles away from my home and by the time I get there I really need to use the restroom.

I open the unit and leave my keys, cell phone and handbag on the kitchen counter and head for the bathroom.  I really have to go now.  There is no electricity because I still have to find the box in order to flip on the switches.  There are no windows in this bathroom and so it is really dark.  But I really have to go.  Like now.  

I don’t want the contractor to walk in on me so I lock the door and do what I have to do as quickly as possible.  The little stream of light from under the door is sufficient.   Relief!

Time to get to work.  Contractor is not here yet so I guess I’ll get started making a list.  But, the bathroom door won’t open.  Hmm.  Maybe there’s a trick to it?  Maybe it’s some kind of new lock?  Why won’t it open?  I’m twisting and turning and nothing is working.  It feels like the walls are starting to close in on me.  How do I get out of here?  There are no windows.  It’s a concrete building.  Nobody can hear me yelling.  Panic.

Now I can’t breathe.  I lay on the floor pressing my head against the bottom of the door just to see outside.  Think, think, think.  Wait, I know!  The contractor will be coming soon.  He will rescue me.  Just breathe. 

Now I can hear my cell phone ringing from the kitchen counter.  Is that him?  Is he late?  Maybe he’s not coming.  I decide it was really dumb not to tell my office or my family where I was going. 

Twist the knob, panic, lay down.  Twist the knob, panic, lay down.

Maybe I can punch a hole through the door?  Several of my tenants have seemed to master that skill.   It was a pathetic attempt.  My knuckes hurt and are wet.  Blood.   I can’t do it.  Now I’m getting mad. 

I feel the towel bar next to the door.  To my surprise, I have no problem pulling it right out of the wall.   And I let that door knob have it with everything I’ve got.  I beat it mercilessly until it is hanging from the hole and I can finally open the door. 

Now you know why my cell phone goes everywhere I go – especially the bathroom.

One Too Many

I am a Property Manager.   The owner of every property I manage is my boss.  While I treat all tenants fairly and honestly, I owe my fiduciary duty to the property owner.   This is not usually a problem.   Usually.

Joey has been my tenant for over 10 years.   He’s a good kid.   We have watched him begin his career, get married and start a family. 

He and his wife just recently welcomed a new addition to their family.  Unfortunately, the condo association where he lives says that baby is one too many for that unit and he needs to move somewhere bigger. 

A few days after this announcement, Joey asks to talk with me.  He calmly and politely informs me that he has been diagnosed with terminal cancer.  He is concerned that he will be late with his rent because he has lost some hours at work in order to get treatment.  He is also concerned that he will not be able to afford a bigger unit.

I talk with the condo association about Joey’s health and financial concerns.  To their credit, they agree that this is an unusual situation and that they will not pursue the matter for the time being. 

However, the owner sees things differently…very differently.  He has financial difficulties and has decided to sell the unit.  He is not concerned with the tenant’s problems.  We are instructed to give Joey a notice to vacate immediately and we do as we are told.   He is the boss.

We locate a small unit for Joey and his family.  It is a quite a step down from where he was, but he is grateful.  The stress has caused his blood pressure to rise which in turn requires the suspension of his treatments.    My staff requests authorization to use the company truck to help Joey move. 

Things go well and they are settled in their new home. 

The owner is informed that the tenant has vacated and the unit has been cleaned.  His response?  “Good, go ahead and rent it again.”

When I can finally find the words to speak, I tell him that I will do as instructed.  He’s the boss.

Top Ten Things You Should Know About Wai’anae

1.  This is not Waikiki.  You will not find any Japanese tourists out here – unless they are playing golf.  This is not a tourist destination.   It is “country”.

2.  This is not Waialae either.  It’s not even close.  The cost of a home in Wai’anae is about $300,000 less.  While we have the most affordable housing on the island, we have the largest homeless population.

3.  We have some of the most beautiful beaches in the world.

4.  The gunshots in the valley are normal.  They are just hunters shooting goats and/or hunting a pig for a luau.  A real luau.

5.  There is no fabulous shopping or even a decent place to eat.  That is about 10 miles away.

6.  We love football. 

7.  There are a ridiculous amount of traffic lights along the coast and there seems to be continual road work of some kind.   There is only one road in and one road out.  You need to leave the way you came in.

8.  Wai’anae offers all sorts of great recreational activities (hiking, paddling, fishing, etc.) if you know where to look.

9.  The public school system is atrocious.

10.  Wai’anae is home for many of the last ”true” Hawaiians.  They are a genuine, loving and proud people.  But do not mistake their kindness for weakness.   Treat the people with respect and you will be like family forever.  Isn’t that really the most important thing?

Dear Linda

Dear Linda,

I had been looking for you since Monday night when I found out you were missing.   You killed yourself in a Waikiki hotel room where the police found you yesterday.

I don’t want to know which hotel because I thought we called them all.  I don’t need to know what time you died.  I don’t need all the graphic details.  I would just like to know why. 

You and I are about the same age.  We are both Property Managers in the same little town.   We have somehow always been able to talk through the bad times and even laugh at the absurdities this profession has thrown at us through the years.  We planned on having tee shirts made that said “No, It Was NOT Like That When You Moved In”.   We worked for different companies but were never competitors. 

It was a different time when we started our Property Management careers nearly 20 years ago.  We learned our jobs from some of the best.  We were dedicated and loyal employees in offices next door to each other in the same building.  Our properties were immaculate and managed better than any others.   It was more than a job for both of us, and we were damn good at it.  

But times have changed.   People do not just disagree with us.  Gone are the days when we could discuss the problem and work out a resolution.  Tenants swear, spit and scream at us now.  Owners do not appreciate us anymore.   They yell at us if there is a repair bill, a tax increase, or if a tenant moves out.   I know you were sick of it all.  I am angry at these people today.  I am angry at everyone.

Once they said you were suicidal, I knew you were going to do it.  That’s just the person you are.  Deep down I knew you were already gone, even while I searched parking lots, beaches, parks and cliffs for your car.  I was already selfishly wondering who I will be able to call now that will understand, offer suggestions and make me laugh hysterically at the insanity of this job. 

I know now that I couldn’t have stopped you.  But I wish I could have talked to you.  Heard that infectious laugh one more time.  Tell you that I love you and that I will always miss you. 

Maybe I don’t really want to know why after all.

Bad Fluffy!

An elderly property owner, under the advice of his attorney, recently hired us as the Property Manager for his single family home.  There is an existing tenant that has been there for many years.   The home immediately behind this one has just been sold and there is a new owner occupant.

When we first took on the property, we took an inventory of the occupants including all pets.  There are two old dogs, really old dogs, about 16 or 17 years old.  The third dog is a small mutt about two years old.   When I’m at the property, the mutt practically licks me to death and the other two old farts can’t be bothered. 

Pets are added to our lease with an addendum that includes their picture, name, age, and breed.    This way, the approved “Fluffy the Pomeranian” doesn’t suddenly get replaced with ”Chompers the Rottweiler”. 

I like my new tenants.  They are friendly, hardworking  people who pay their rent.   When I visit, they are gracious and accommodating.  We were pleased to welcome them into our ”family” of tenants.  That is why the police car in front of the property one day had me very disturbed.   I was happy to discover it had nothing to do with them.  The argument was between the new owner behind and the next door neighbor. 

The next door neighbor has a pit bull that barks incessantly at the homeowner and charges the fence whenever she walks by.  The homeowner is not a fan of loud, threatening dogs and apparently sprayed the dog with some kind of chemical.  The neighbor retaliated by spraying her with a garden hose.   The homeowner decides that she hates all of her neighbors that have dogs.  And so it begins.

I soon meet this homeowner personally when she arrives at my office demanding that my tenant get rid of his dogs or they should be evicted.  For the record, that’s not a good way to introduce yourself to me. 

I try to explain to her that those dogs have been approved and that I can’t understand why she has any problem with them.   I really just don’t understand the problem.  I basically blow her off as a hyper-sensitive troublemaker whose real problem is with the other neighbor.  But, I told her I would visit the property personally. 

Because I refused to evict the tenant as she demanded, she immediately starts phoning my client, the elderly homeowner, on a regular basis demanding that he erect a fence so she doesn’t have to look at our tenant or his dogs.   This poor old man is so confused and distraught when she starts threatening to sue.  She hires an attorney that starts sending me threatening letters.

Our records indicate that we had just done an inspection and there were no issues.  I decide to show up unannounced one day and am greeted at the gate by a happy mutt.  The other two dogs roll over and ignore me.  No problem.

After several arguments requiring no less than 15 visits from the police, the homeowner goes to court and files a Restraining Order on my tenant.  Soon after, she is spraying his dogs with chemicals.   When he catches her in the act, he immediately starts taking pictures and phones the police.  But the smart homeowner knows that taking pictures is a violation of the Restraining Order and my tenant is arrested.   Arrested!

I am furious at the idea of these poor dogs being sprayed in their eyes with some kind of liquid that is hurting them.   I am even more furious that the tenant can be arrested for taking pictures of her doing it.  It makes no sense.  I sympathize with my tenant and tell him that I will go to court with him and stand by him through this. 

The homeowner then storms into my office armed with a picture of a huge pit bull that appears to be charging the fence as she took the picture.  She says this is my tenant’s dog.   What?  Huh?  She tells me that this pit bull is being housed in the back yard, hidden from view.   The tenant apparently removes the dog from the property when they know I am coming and it was locked up in the kennel on the day I arrived without notice.   I feel like a shmuck. 

We hand deliver written notice to the tenant that they are immediately required to remove the dog.  The dog is gone that day. 

Aside from feeling stupid, I am sad and I have a very bruised ego.  My tenants have betrayed me.   I owe the homeowner a big apology.  Yes, you would think I would get used to this.   But I don’t.

The Stranger

It is just 8:30 a.m. when I begin my day at the office this past Wednesday.   Two other staff members are already busy at work at their desks when we hear a strange banging noise coming from the stairwell of our building.   We all stop and look at each other puzzled by the noise that is getting louder.  It sounds like metal on metal.   It is the sound of a pipe being banged on the handrails by someone approaching our office.   He is in our office before we realize who it is or what is happening.

Just the day before, this same mentally disturbed man arrived at our office insisting that we had rented him an apartment.  He was talking in circles and making us all uncomfortable.  He was also using our telephone to call long distance.  When I asked him to hang up the phone, he became confrontational, called me every name in the book, and then left.  I thought that was the end of it.   This happens.   People of all kinds come in just to sit in our comfortable air condtioning and drink our coffee.   Sometimes we have to escort them out.

But this fellow returned the next morning with a three foot long metal pipe.   I immediately ran to my phone and called 911.  Our receptionist did her best to keep him calm by engaging him in quiet conversation while we waited for the police.  Unfortunately, he soon became agitated again and demanded to know when he could move into the apartment that we had promised him.   I approached him, told him that we did not have an apartment for him, and that he would have to leave.  It was then that he told me that he was going to “bash in my head”. 

I guess he thought better of it because after another outburst of profanities in my face, he stormed out of the office and toward one of our company trucks.  I thought he was going to smash the windows with his pipe.  But he apparently thought better of that as well as the police showed up. 

The police were very familar with him as they have arrested him before for hitting another woman, threatening kids, and other bizarre behavior.   He is currently being evicted by his current landlord.  The police tell me he is a vet who is routinely treated at a nearby military hospital and released as soon as he calms down. 

He is in jail now charged with terroristic threatening for this incident.  His bail is $100.  That’s right.  $100.  Ridiculous.

My office is now on a “knock to enter” system because we don’t know if he’s going to come back again. 

I have had to deal with angry people before.  Tenants who threaten violence because they didn’t get their way about something.  I understand them.  I understand what they are mad about.  I know how to talk to them and to somewhat anticipate their behavior.   This is different.  I don’t know this person.  He is a complete stranger that hates me for no reason whatsoever.  That is frightening.