lily's diary
Suspend Your Disbelief
by Lily
January 5
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of wine and making a list of things that have to be done to my building in the coming year. I don’t intend to actually do them all, but I like to comfort myself with the thought that, hey, I’m on top of it. The hall carpeting definitely needs replacing, as does the bathroom floor in Apartment #2. There’s a dead tree in the back yard that needs removal, and there is a water leak in the basement coming from my uphill neighbor’s sprinkling system. (Oh, hell, it’s winter now and it’s little more than a moist spot; I can put off confronting him until next summer.) There’s always the question: is it worth the cost to make improvements if it doesn’t generate additional return on my investment? Then I remember that, um, I live here, too, and the old pride of ownership vibe kicks in. I’ll get more serious after I finish my taxes and find out if I have any money left.
January 11
Some of our landlord stalwarts went to Sacramento last month to talk to our legislators about means testing as a prerequisite for qualifying for a rent controlled apartment. It’s a controversial subject because advocating proof of income status is tacit acknowledgment that we landlords do have a responsibility to personally subsidize low-income tenants. We don’t. Poverty is a societal problem that should be born by all citizens—even affluent tenants.
January 17
There’s always one tenant who calls you more than others. Privately I think of mine as my “problem tenant,” but the truth is that things do go wrong in her unit and they aren’t caused by negligence but rather a combination of other things about her, not normally thought of as character flaws: forthright personality, feelings of self-worth, vigilance (she has a small child) and scrupulous cleanliness. Also, she is young and was raised in the suburbs. Give me a tenant from New York City any time. They are grateful for anything and never complain.
January 20
My friend Robert told me a cautionary tale when we were at Caesar’s on Shattuck after hitting a show at Berkeley Rep. He had been advertising a studio apartment for rent on Craigslist and received a response from a Ukrainian professor who was coming to San Francisco for a one-year teaching position at the University of San Francisco. After some email back and forth, the man asked to be sent a rental agreement.
A few days later, Robert received, not the agreement, but rather a bank check in U.S. currency for the security deposit and first month’s rent, along with the promise that the signed lease would follow. While Robert was holding the check, awaiting the lease, the professor called him on the phone, sounding very distraught. With a thick accent, he said his daughter had been in an accident and he couldn’t take the position he had been offered by USF. He apologized profusely, saying he knew there would be a penalty: he told Robert to keep the one-month’s rent and just send back his security deposit to an address in Turkey where his daughter was living. Thinking he had had a stroke of good fortune, Robert was just about to write the check when he took a closer look at the check he had been sent.
It said Ukraine National Bank, Department of Foreign Exchange. The amount of $4,200 was clearly marked “US Currency.” The check was replete with watermarks and fancy borders and two signatures of bank officials. It had to be good. Robert took it to his bank. The teller said UNB was indeed a legitimate bank and they would accept it for processing. It wasn’t until three weeks later that they called to tell him it was fraudulent. Robert seemed a bit smug that he hadn’t snapped at the bait.
January 23
My tenant Marlene called about the blocked drain in her tub again. “It’s all that frigging hair,” I wanted to yell into the phone, but didn’t. In spite of drain inserts, the sheer quantity of this woman’s mane defies the strainers. My guess is that when the hair clogs the drain she pulls it out to release the water without first removing the hairball, and the clump goes down the drain. I go in there with a small electric snake and at least half the time I can pull it up. The alternative is calling Roto-Rooter (and kissing $160 goodbye).
January 26
The San Francisco Board of Supervisors has never been worse. Hand picked by Aaron Peskin in his post-supervisor role as head of the powerhouse Democratic County Central Committee, these new guys are knocking each other over to get the Oscar for most “progressive.” Supervisor Eric Mar wants to prohibit owner move-ins if the sitting tenants have school-age children. Forget that the children of the people who bought the unit also might have some rights. In fact, whether there are children or not, owners should have the right to live in their building—end of story.
January 28
The last time the unit right above me was empty, I decided to upgrade.
I ripped out the wall-to-wall carpeting and had the floors refinished. Anyone who reads the ads for new apartments can’t miss the rather tiresome duo of “hardwood floors and granite counter tops.” Well, I’m not about to do the granite, but, since I already have the floors, I thought this was a chance to make the unit more rentable without too much expense.
The process went on for two weeks. The repetitious rhythm of the sanding machine was like some great beast moaning in the throes of labor. Then there were the coats of varnish and more sanding. Fine dust coated all the moldings, windows, cupboards, closets and chandeliers. I was cleaning up for hours and used every vacuum attachment I own. Anyhow, the floors looked fabulous and I estimate that I got an extra hundred bucks a month out of it.
The problem now is the noise. Not only the noise, but also the nagging worry that the tenant’s high heels are marring the finish. Sure, I put a runner in the hallway and required 9-by-12-foot rugs in the living room and bedroom. But the few feet between them are driving me crazy. The sound is “bump, bump, bump” and then “crack, crack, crack,” as the heels cross the wood. Then, “bump, bump, bump” as they proceed across the next rug. My friend Maggie assures me that exposing the floors was a good idea and reminded me (quoting Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia), “The trick is not minding it.”
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the SFAA or the 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 © 2010 by Black Point Press. All rights reserved.