lily's diary

By Lily

April 10
As it does every year around this time, the Matilija Poppy in the back yard is sending up steroidal shoots. It was planted without my permission by Marian, a British tenant, back in the eighties, when I was a novice landlord. At first, I thought she was a dream come true: someone who actually liked to garden and, best of all, would do it for free. She spiffed up the shrubs, transplanted others, put in a few things she found on sale at Cole Hardware and was, in her words, “as happy as Larry.” (Don’t ask me who Larry is.) Soon, she set up an old table in the corner of the back yard so she could putter with pots without bending over. Then, a small cabinet was added to the table. “I found it lying on the street,” she told me, with the delight of a beachcomber with a beeping metal detector. Then, she decided that it would be easier to keep the rake and shovel hanging on the fence so she didn’t have to go into the basement to get them. Gradually, I could see the writing on the wall. Marian was taking over the back yard.  My good fortune was turning into a literal nightmare as, flashlight in hand, she took to looking for earwigs in the middle of the night.

Then Marian got a boyfriend. The garden was abandoned. The potting table and cabinet began to sprout moss, but still I hesitated to act. Fortunately, she moved out before I was ever forced to summon up the gumption to confront her—but the lesson was learned. Don’t turn over any space to a tenant beyond his or her unit no matter how good the reason.

April 15
My pal Maggie has a young tenant who is flying the Tibetan flag from his front window. She worries that her Chinese neighbors will be offended. Until this Olympic torch thing, who knew how deeply so many felt about Tibet? “I think it’s all the fault of the Dalai Lama,” she said. “So does China,” I shot back. Maggie thinks that the Dalai Lama has become much more than the spiritual leader of a remote corner of the world: he is now a universal symbol of peace. Young people are frustrated with the world political situation, she reasons, and demonstrating against China makes them feel better. To me, frankly, demonstrating against China is like biting the hand that feeds you. (But I didn’t say that.) “So what do you think,” asked Maggie, “can I ask him to take down the flag?” I looked at her dumbfounded. “In San Francisco?  In your dreams, my friend.”

April 22
“Landlords should be required to get a license.” When I heard a tenant attorney say that at the SFAA meeting last night, I bristled. Later on, I got it. There are a lot of property owners who are clueless about the business they’re in and do their jobs very badly. And there are professional managers, too, who weigh costs to the point that they forget they’re providing a service that is a significant part of another person’s life. Attorney Michael Blacksburg told SFAA members that there are two things that give tenants (and therefore landlords) the most grief: unauthorized entry and withholding unreasonable portions of security deposits. To comply with the first is often frustrating. But even when you know the tenant is out and wouldn’t object to your entering his unit to carry out some small task that is of benefit to him, even then, you still shouldn’t go in.

The issue of reimbursement for damages is harder to deal with. It takes courage for us small property owners, who live under the same roof as our tenants—and are often friendly with them—to conduct a “walk through” before they vacate. It can be embarrassing and possibly confrontational, but, hello, this is part of the business we’re in. It’s then, when you’re walking through the rooms, that you can frankly discuss the cost of repairing specific damages that you see. You don’t have to give exact figures at that moment, but just a general indication of the work and costs involved. This will not prevent the tenant from feeling disappointed, but it may stop him from getting angry (not to mention litigious).

April 30
I had to have a bathtub and tile enclosure replaced in Apartment #3 and tried to get it finished by the time the tenant (Randy) returned from Belize, where he goes for a week each spring to get a head start on his tan. Attempting to minimize the dust, the tiler set up his cutting machine on some outdoor scaffolding (left by the plumber) and crawled out the bathroom window onto the tiny platform to do the work. I appreciated his consideration but, like every good deed, this one had unexpected side effects. Cutting tile involves water, which sprayed all over the windows of the units below. It left white freckles on my camellia bushes, which are blooming for the first time in the three years I’ve had them.

In spite of working diligently, he still hadn’t finished before Randy returned. I was working alongside him, furiously wiping the residue off the newly installed tiles when I heard the door slam and the footsteps on the stairs. “It’s only us,” I said
in as cheery a tone as I could muster. Randy took one look at us, dropped his bags and headed for the bedroom. He was simply too tired (and sunburned) to care. We finished the next day and nothing more was said. Whew.

May 2
Maggie and I went to a presentation by the Director of the San Francisco Department of Building Inspection, Isam Hasenin, and found out that he has initiated an overhaul of the processes and practices of that much-maligned function of city government. “You shouldn’t have to pay for an expediter to get through the permitting and inspection process,” he said. Ah, yes, from his mouth to God’s ears. A reality check shows that the process for large projects is so complicated and, at the same time, so arbitrary that hiring an insider becomes money well spent.

To be fair, the department hasn’t completed the “implementation phase” of its revamping, so it’s too soon to judge if things have gotten better. All I know is that during my latest upgrade—central heating—two of the inspectors seemed to be reading from different rule books. I had to appeal to a higher level to finally get the real skinny on what should be done.

May 12
My friend Helen has a 2-unit building in the Marina not far from the Lombard Gate. Since she has a bum leg, we met for dinner at Liverpool Lil’s. She immediately began unloading her contempt for the CAMP. That’s the acronym for the Contemporary Art Museum of the Presidio, the proposed gallery housing the collection of Doris and Don Fisher. Helen was one of the early skeptics who tenaciously followed every move of the members of the Presidio Trust, sure that they were going to allow wall to wall businesses to take root in the Presidio because of the congressional mandate that it be a self-sustaining enterprise by 2012.

I thought the museum would be a nifty use of the former Parade Ground space, but Helen acted as if the Trust was suggesting installation of a red light district. “Don’t you see,” she pleaded, “it will be just like Lucas Films. The Fishers will build more square footage than they actually need and then rent out to other businesses and pretty soon the traffic will be nonstop through the Lombard Gate.” She stopped to take a sip of her scotch and continued, “They’ll have an expensive parking garage so people will start cruising Lyon Street for free parking and . . .” I stopped her there. Our fried oysters had arrived and I’d had enough. Obviously, Helen has way too much time on her hands.

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The opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of SFAA or SF Apartment Magazine. “Lily’s Diary” is written by a longtime rental property owner who reserves the right to remain anonymous on the grounds that her tenants might gang up on her. Comments, corrections or ideas are welcome at lilysdiary@aol.com. Copyright © 2008 by SF Apartment Magazine. All rights reserved.