Acts of Empathy and Human Kindness

I've made some boneheaded decisions in my life, typically when I follow the advice of people I should realize are not the best advisers. And so it was with my condo purchase, in 2006. Miami real estate was soaring, and D1 was about to leave for college, and I was concerned that neither D would have an affordable place to live after both were done with school. My friend Vince, a good anesthesiologist, but horrible businessman, called me and told me there was a "preview" event for sales at a nearby apartment conversion -- a long time rental community was going condo, and now was the time to buy. I went over with him, and the frenzy in the small sales office reminded me of the one pyramid party I attended in the early 80s. I toured a unit, and one thought struck me -- this looks like the kind of starter apartment Dr. Eric and I rented when we lived together in graduate school, and if I had to guess it's value as a condo, I'd say about $75-$100K. People were literally screaming to buy them for $250K. Vince, the bigger idiot, bought a premium two bedroom unit, with a view of the pool, for about $250K. I, the slightly less moronic investor, bought the unit across from his, for $235K. As I signed the papers, I knew it was a dumb move. We found a tenant, a Burmese, or Myanmarese, whatever, doctor who worked at the VA and was transferred to Miami, and he moved in for $1100 per month. He then bought a place a year later, and the next tenant was a man I'll call Lenny, since that's his name. He was a salesman, and negotiated a rent of $1000. He bounced a few checks, but since we shared a common friend, and he was a nice guy, I let it pass, and started driving to his credit union near MIA each month to cash the checks there. Then the fun started. Another investor moved his white trash kids into a unit, and apparently while having some kind of candle fight, started a fire. No one was hurt, but 1/3 of the complex was ruined. Litigation over insurance followed, but for our unit, the benefit was new windows -- even though I had sprung for storm shutters, the unit got new impact resistant glass -- apparently the code now required it. The place was rebuilt, and then all was quiet -- NOT. The cheap pipes the gonif developer used burst above our unit, flooding it and several others. This time my own insurance kicked it -- drying the place out, and replacing the bedroom carpets with tile. Finally, the place was done and peaceful. Lenny lived there quietly, and I turned over the "property management" to Wifey. The market rates for rent crept up -- by last year, two bedroom units like ours were renting for $1500 per month. As for value -- following the fire, which coincided with the real estate crash, people were selling units like mine for $80K -- a 2/3 drop in price! As I said, I knew it, and went ahead. Shame on me. Last time I checked, the units are selling for $150K. We wanted to sell, but figured the time would come when we'd need to move my mother in law into it -- 10 minutes from our house, on the first floor, and walk to Publix -- actually a good senior living condo. As for the Ds...when D1 returned to Miami from Gville in '10, well, let's just say the thought of a suburban condo in Palmetto Bay paled next to moving to Brickell and the heart of the Miami youthful, city living renaissance. And D2 moved to NYC -- and when she returns to the 305, it won't be to the condo either. So we kept the unit, and after the second year of Lenny's lease, I emailed him and returned his last month's rent and security deposit -- gratuitously, I might add -- and told him we were now month to month, and if he wanted to move, just give me 30 days notice, and I would do the same. And Wifey now agrees it's time to move her mother here -- with her Dad gone, Rachel no longer has the twice weekly visits to the nursing home, and Wifey's case management job of this perfectly healthy 91 year old is going to get tougher. So she emailed Lenny, and told him of her Dad's death, and he needed to move by March 1. Lenny emailed back, offered condolences about the death, said he understood about the challenges of caring for a 91 year old widowed mother, and would start looking, and, by the way, thanks for saving him at least $5K per year on rent over the last 5 years. Ha! As if! He said he "didn't recall" this one month notice thing, and he was in the midst of a very tough time at work, and the last thing he had time for now was to find a new place and move. The truth is, as I told Wifey, the dude probably doesn't have the money necessary to pay security and first and last month, and knows an equivalent unit will now cost at least 50% more. Whatever. Our gravy train has gotten notably shorter, lately. Wifey responded that she understood stress -- she had it now with a dead father and caring for an elderly mother -- and, politely, get the F out by March. Hopefully this will go smoothly, and I won't need the assistance of an eviction lawyer and the Miami Dade police. And I shared the lessons with my Ds -- who like to think people are generally nice and caring, but often are selfish, uncaring, and, well, jerks. So this too, shall pass, and Wifey can now focus on a large undertaking -- moving the elderly woman here, and then selling the unit we own in Pembroke Pines, which has fallen into quite a state of decrepitude since my father in law moved to the nursing home. He used to keep the place up -- my mother in law hasn't. There is peeling wallpaper, and blackened tile grout. We'll have to decide whether to sell it as it, or whether it makes economic sense to put maybe $5K into it, to make it more presentable. One thing is for sure: I won't be asking Vince his advice.