by Big Daddy Cash
Being a land lord can make anyone turn old and gray. I’ve been a landlord for just a few years and I think I’ve aged twenty-five years or more. I’ve got to be God, the Judge and the jury, I’ve got to be the father, grandfather, the bishop the pastor and the priest. I’ve got bottoms to wipe, teardrops to blot, fights to referee, the whole life of a landlord is a menagerie. When the lives of all my renters have been mended my days not through, it’s just begun. Now I have the holes in the walls to repair, doors to fix, toilets, phones, and TV’s too. Hold on that’s not it yet, I still have the lawns to mow, trees to prune, fences to repair and last but not least weeds to pull. Now after all this I’m dam lucky if I can collect the rent.
When you own your own building, excuse me, . when the building owns you. . .you’ve got to be all things, . . at all times. . .to all of your renters.
It’s a sin for you to get sick or be tired and if you run out of steam you can’t be fired. Being a landlord is really a bitch. Don’t get me wrong it has it’s rewards it’s just that I haven’t had time to find out what they are.
All I know is that when things go wrong they all say go see the landlord he lives in the basement. Why is it when I have a problem I have to go see me?
I’ve got to love them, understand them, reprimand them, and command them. I’ll do all of these things if you call me in my apartment downstairs. You see, I’m the master of my domain and being a master means I do all the work. Go see the master he’ll know what to do the tenants are fighting in forty two twenty two. Hey landlord the drains are backing up in forty two sixteen. My husband came home drunk and beat me up in forty two eighteen. There’s a fire in the kitchen in forty two twenty…Hey, that’s where I live, I even have my own problems to fix.
When I first started landlording in the year nineteen ninety nine I thought this will be great most the rent I collect will be mine. If I buy only fourplexes I can live in one free and I’ll make all my tenants part of my family. “WOW”. . Was I ever mistaken! What I bought was hard work, disappointment and misery and a tenant family that would redirect my destiny.
I can tell you stories that you wouldn’t believe about being the owner and manager of rental property. There are times when your tenants are out of work and you have to create jobs so they can survive. Then there’s the time when you get woke up at two, police cars all over the place, your renters son has just robbed the corner convenient store. You get a call early in the morning from your tenant next door telling you that her baby is do and nobody in her house knows what to do. Then there are the calls you get from your neighbors telling you that your renters are partying to late and to loud. Oh, there’s the call that comes from Tim Buck Two my cars broken down and I need you. I can go on and on it never ends whether I take it with a grain or lose my mind, that depends.
Go see the landlord he lives in the basement right down the stairs. He’s the nicest landlord and he’ll fix anything because he really cares.
Now let me tell you about the Bimbo’s you inherit when you buy property. I’ve had a couple that were really misfits to our society. There was the Don Dean situation, that really was a joke. He was my first eviction and believe me it was far from being sweet. I asked this man to get out and you could really feel the heat. He said he’d stay for as long as he pleased and there was nothing I could do. The law protects the renter and the landlord can go to hell. So I had the board of health close down his unit and I moved his shit out in the street. He swore that he’d make my life miserable and that I’d be sorry we ever met. That was three years ago and the man is still a threat.
The next one was a lady and I won’t mention her name but she was a real conniver and knew how to play the game. She had lived in her unit for the past six months free and figured she could get another six by pulling the con on me. I told her right up front she had to bring her rent up to date and if she refused she’d have to vacate. She just laughed at me and as I walked out the door,and I heard her say, “Old man, I’ll live here as long as I want, you can’t get rid of me just try and you’ll see.” That night she had a party, I guess to celebrate her victory. I had her place raided at three o’clock that morning and now she’s got a new home and I guess you could say it’s rent free.
Now there’s a moral to this story and if you want to find out more. The landlord lives in the basement so just knock on his door.
What’s the fools name? Why it’s Big Daddy Cash
A group of American tourists were being guided through an ancient castle in Europe.
“This place,” the guide told them, “is 600 years old. Not a stone in it has been touched, nothing altered, nothing replaced in all those years.”
“Wow,” said one woman dryly, “they must have the same landlord I do.”
Poor Old Woman
Once upon a time, there lived a poor old woman. She had only one child who currently was living in The United States of America.
Unfortunately, the old woman finds it so hard to eat. Sometimes, only one meal a day and sometimes, none at all.
Her concerned Landlord decided to see how he could help and the following conversation ensued…
Landlord: Mama, I thought you have a child living in the United States ?
Poor Old Woman: Yes sir, I do
Landlord: So, why doesn’t she send you any money?
Poor Old Woman: Shioo!…That ungrateful girl! After all the sacrifices we made for her. She never sends money to me. Instead, she sends pictures of some old men I don’t even know at all
Landlord: Ehh??..ahh??……thats bad o!. Can I see the pictures?
Poor Old Woman: Don’t mind her ojare, Yes you can see the pictures
The woman handed over the pictures.
What the old woman had described as pictures of old men were lots and lots of paper notes (DOLLARS!)
So…….what would you do if you were the landlord?
A rather attractive woman goes up to the bar in a quiet rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the barman who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard which is full and bushy. “Are you the landlord?” she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
“Actually, no” he replies.
“Can you get him for me – I need to speak to him?” she asks, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” breathes the barman – clearly aroused. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes there is. I need you to give him a message,” she continues huskily, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. “Tell him that there is no toilet paper in the ladies room.”