The Rental Home Lottery

A Shorter Line than Last Sunday

El Jefe had a home for me to rent out. This is nothing unusual. I work for a property management company. We do that. When tenants are moving out, landlords tend to get very Type-A when it comes to re-leasing their precious home. As the adage goes, there is nothing more desperate in this world than a landlord with a vacant home. No matter the real estate rental market, this holds true.

Anyway, Barbie was moving. Her lease said she was to make the home available if anyone wanted to see it. And, it turns out more than 130 people did want to see it. Because I had no desire in calling all of these folks and setting up personal tours between them and Barbie (who was pretty uncooperative about the idea of me showing her home anyway, after all, she wasn't moving for another week or two), I did the only sensible action I could think of.  Last Sunday, with significant coercion from Barbie, who begrudgingly read her lease to see this was allowable by law, I invited all 130 prospectively homeless parties for a one-hour open house. I made it clear in my invite, do not show up before 3 p.m. and do not come after 4 p.m.

Many enterprising people, who probably had been down the tenant road before went ahead and applied for this house sight-unseen, knowing full well they would get a chance to view it a few days later. Everyone who did so, I called prior to the open house, explaining they weren't the only application, and to be sure to show up on Sunday. Because, not doing so would automatically disqualify them from the house lottery.

When I arrived Sunday, at 2:45--in August, in Arizona mind you--there was already a line  at the front door. Some extraordinarily rude people were actually walking into the back yard and peeking into the back windows. They didn't seem to care in the least when I shooed them, explaining someone lives here and they would be none-too-happy if a perfect stranger walked into their back yard. Some figured it out, remembered how their mother's taught them and excused themselves for their rude behavior. However, others were uppity and snippy with me. The uppity people may have wished to reconsider their behavior next time. Because when everyone signed in to view the property, a special asterisk went next to the uppity people's name. Just saying...

Meanwhile, Barbie (did I mention she was unhappy about me hijacking her Sunday?) told me, under no uncertain circumstances was I permitted to allow anyone in prior to 3 p.m. I guess it gave her more time to spiffy up the filthy hole of a home she lived in. To be fair, it looked like she hadn't spiffied it up in the entire time she had been living there. But hey! A party.

No matter, people waited in the heat to see this marvelous home. More than 60 people waded through the piles of junk and filth to see if their furniture would fit and figure out where the Christmas tree would go. They didn't care. The home was available in three weeks and they were about to be homeless. Everyone who came was required to sign in. Everyone was also given the same information: there are several applications on the property. If you haven't applied, do so immediately. I have nothing to do with processing your application. Though I do tend to relay my first impressions to El Jefe, I didn't think that needed to be said.

Barbie (did I mention she is a bit passive-aggressive?) also treated potential tenants to her version of what it is like to rent for our company and our "intrusive" policies when it comes to viewing homes. She had lots to say about the home's condition, most of it she probably caused. After all, the doorknob to her son's room is clearly missing. Don't blame the maintenance team for not taking care of what should be her responsibility. That goes double for the cleanliness of the place. But the potential tenants were not deterred. They had bigger issues: mainly, there are not enough homes available and too many people.

At 3:59, Barbie gave me a one minute notice and told me to pack up and leave. I thanked her for her time. Secret pictures of the home's condition and obvious damage were nestled into my camera phone, for El Jefe to see so he could weep violently. I had shaken hands with lots of people, all who had hope, promise or disgust in their eyes. Some had all three. Me personally, I just wanted a Lysol bath.

The saddest part was the nicest people I met that day who just wanted a place to live. They were trying to take care of their families. They were anxious to move on with their lives. And perhaps this would be where they would raise their families for a while. I saw all this. I knew there could only be one family who would calling this place home. The other 59 would lose out. Hopefully something better will come along for them.