I was not meant to be a landlord. For those of you who don’t know, Bob and I turned our cottage (which is a 3 bedroom/2 bathroom year-round place) into a full-time rental property last year after we bought our house in Florida. Why you ask? Well, I can only vacation so much you know!
Anyway, our current tenants had to give notice due to some personal issues. They were great tenants by the way, very clean, friendly and their rent cheques always cleared. I found them on kijiji.ca so I decided to post another ad this time round to find the next tenants. Following about 30 inquiries over the past weekend, I decided to hold an open house at the property tonight. Here’s what happened: (For the record, I am unquoted and crazy tenants are quoted)
The rent is a $1,000/month plus utilities.....”Does that mean a phone is included?”
We prefer no pets....”Lately I’ve been thinking about starting a dog sled business. The dogs would be outside.”
We prefer no pets....”He’s not really a pet, just a lizard.”
Yes, it’s a pretty quiet area....”Do you get a lot of police cruisers around here?”
The rent is a $1,000/month plus utilities....”Would you take just a $1,000/month?”
Do you have children? ....“No. Well, yes. A sixteen year old daughter.”
We prefer no pets....”He’s not really a pet. He’s more like a son to us.”
Honestly, I just don’t have the patience.
Landlording is not for me and frankly, I really think Bob should be more involved in this whole exercise in self-inflicted annoyance. However, all that said, what stood out to me the most on my drive home was the word “landlord” itself. It’s really a strange word of reference to use in this millenium. If I wanted to use words derived from the middle ages, I would use Queen of Land that Thou May Rent from the Crown. Sounds much more queenly and rich, than some fat, hairy landlord figure. We could add King in there somewhere if Bob were more involved but he’s not so Queen it would be.
And the best for last....
Nice to meet you, I’m Tamara....”Do you own this place? I didn’t think you looked old enough.”
This just 2 days past my birthday which brought me closer to the 40s end of the spectrum rather than the 30s. They were serious. They were not trying to butter me up. And they will not be moving in - they were the ones asking about the police.
