Dopey Perhaps?

"I am not happy!" The selling agent wrote today when I told him that my buyers were backing out of the contract.

I came thisclose to saying, "Well, which dwarf are you then?"

Instead, I took the super-boring high road. Much less satisfying, but more professional. I replied, "Yea, I get it. I am not happy either."

A Little Too Close to Home

This woman has, thankfully, been found alive. She happens to be a friend of a friend.

These kinds of Silver Alerts scare me. It could be my father, father-in-law or bonus dad.

It would  have been Diamond Jim if his truck hadn't been taken away. In this case, this woman has been diagnosed with dementia. Incidentally, Beaumont California is 316 miles from where she was last seen.

Here is the story. (link)

Four Weeks to Go

I told Junior today every time I speak with his father at this point was just another chance for me to lose my license. Because, let's face it, if I had to go in front of a judge and explain that I knew there is a strong chance Diamond Jim has dementia but I let him sign legal documents anyway, how would I explain that?

Or, what if I had to go in front of a judge because I told Diamond Jim X, but he heard and specifically did Y and Y was the detriment, but it was my word against his? There are other scenarios too, but essentially it boiled down to me saying, I am not losing my license because Diamond Jim is going to do whatever he wants. Nor am I getting caught up in this crazy family business. So, you folks figure it out.

Does Diamond Jim know I am not speaking to him? Probably, he only called me once this weekend. Generally he calls me every 10 minutes, leaving messages every time, until I call him back. Junior told me I have every right to be furious for being made a fool of and deemed a liar. My friends don't do that. And yes, I understand Jim is ill. I totally get it. And I can't say that I am not hurt my friend of 15 years has chosen this path. But he is not so ill that he doesn't know when he is being an ass to get his way. I promise. The problem last Friday was that he breezed through everyone else who was on his side so it became my turn to be treated poorly.

Junior is supporting my stand that I will not deal with his father. For that matter, I am not dealing with Diamond Jim's sister either. Now I know all too well what I want and what I will get is very different. But being Diamond Jimless the last four days has been wonderful.

Memorial Day

WW2 Vet Charlie Schaefer is buried in here. Charlie went on to have a great life. He married and raised two kids. He worked for General Motors and helped engineer some of their cars. In addition, he created and patented the original artificial heart, which is at the Smithsonian. Charlie left us a few years ago and is now one of the chosen ones.

Please take a moment to think of those who paid the ultimate price for their sacrifice. We are in the Land of the Free because of them.

Friday's Drama

To his credit, Diamond Jim has only called me once this weekend. His number is blocked, so I am not answering his calls anyway. Eventually I will need to talk with him for two reasons. One, we are in the inspection phase of this contract and the buyer is going to want an answer on the list of repairs they will inevitably send over. I wish that was the only reason.

And two, Diamond Jim's doesn't have a key to his home anymore (another long story). He left stuff over there and needs to get it. But--and this is where it gets dicey--he doesn't have transportation because Junior took his truck away. This was in everyone's best interests because Diamond Jim kept getting lost, calling random family members, and asking how to get back to his home on 9th Street. He has never owned a home or lived on 9th Street. Sadly, the people at the home on 9th Street are a bit tired of arguing with him about this particular tid-bit. In addition to this, I have witnessed first hand the fact he truly doesn't really remember how to drive and it was just a matter of time before he runs over a child or runs his car into a building.

Jim's life choices came to a head last week. He disowned his son on Thursday. Junior, a former Army Ranger, is pretty broken up about this. He disowned his daughter on Friday. And please understand I am not glossing over the enormity of the above. It breaks my heart beyond belief.

After he got through with his children, he then called me, demanding I stop what I was doing right then and there and pick him up and take him to his office. "What office?" I asked, stupidly. He meant his home he is selling, but it took about 10 minutes to figure that out. There was no, "Please." There was no, "If you have some time." When I explained I was busy, he hung up on me.

He then called his daughter again, said he was going to kill himself and hung up on her. Daughter called me in a panic. And I called 911 and explained what was going on. But I have to tell you, when someone suggests they are taking their life, I think of that as serious. Unfortunately, when the first responders showed up, Diamond Jim was fine and he denounced me as a liar.

Then his sister left a message for me. I have never in my life spoken to this woman, and after the message she left me Friday, we will just keep it that way. Essentially, I was to stay out of Jim's business. Fine by me.

As far as I am concerned this sale can't close fast enough.

The Half-Full Glass

Mitch and Tonya are the greatest clients EVER. Dee and her Merry Band of Felons are wonderful, but they are no Mitch and Tonya. I went out with Mitch and Tonya today to window shop (and possibly roof and door shop, but that remains to be seen) And even if they only look, they are SO MUCH FUN THAT I just don't care if they ever buy anything again. In fact, I would be willing to show them homes any time they are in town just to hang out and have some of their positivism flow my direction.

Anyway, Mitch and Tonya (and Dee) are the stark contrast to the other real estate transaction I am dealing with. Unfortunately Mitch and Tonya had to see me deal with that other transaction and with me practically losing my dignity when Diamond Jim pulled one of his passive-aggressive shenanigans. As of today, I have blocked Diamond Jim's phone number. I have blocked his sister's phone number. I am crossing my fingers and toes the buyers back out of this transaction this week so I can fire him and get on with my life.

In order to figure out something really positive I can say about Diamond Jim at this moment I will leave with this. I am now more motivated than ever to write the Great American Novel and leave real estate behind.

Honest, I Mean It

The subject header of the e-mail I sent to Marty yesterday said, "This time I mean it." The e-mail said. "I am quitting real estate. Forever."

It was mid-afternoon. I had already commiserated with Bliz (thank you!). I had just talked to Mrs. Hufflepuff, a broker, asking her for a read on my situation--her read was the same as mine (except for the part where she said, "Want to come work at our brokerage yet?"). And after pondering for a bit, I called the Arizona Real Estate Legal Hotline, a quasi-free resource for Brokers. In this case the lawyer I spoke with was surprised I was calling. Fair enough, I knew the answer, I just wanted a way to phrase it.

Here's the situation: Diamond Jim gave his son a power of attorney to handle the real estate sale. He did it for several reasons. 1) Diamond Jim truly doesn't understand real estate transactions. I know this from first-hand experience. 2) There is a suspicion, unconfirmed because Diamond Jim refuses to go to a doctor, that he is really not of sound mind. 3) And this was by far the most important reason, I wasn't dealing with him and his craziness if I didn't have to.

Junior has done a fabulous job. This week, an offer came in on his house, and Junior signed the paperwork. Diamond Jim is getting a lot more than he probably should for his home. All of this has been relatively stress free.

But, no real estate transaction with Diamond Jim is ever relatively stress free. Oh no. I can't have nice things real estate closings with this man! Instead, Diamond Jim got pissy over a few minor details. Most of the details have to do with the fact he has no control over the situation. I knew he would get pissy. He has with the last two sales he has had. In fact, the first time I sold a home for him he refused to sign the closing documents and then didn't move out for two months. In the case of this transaction, he decided Junior was mean and out to get him. So, he called me and told me to cancel the sale because Junior had been involved.

"I can't do that." I replied. Then I happily added, "You put a power of attorney in place."

True, but Diamond Jim can cancel the sale, even with the power of attorney in place. I know this because Mrs. Hufflepuff and the AZ Real Estate Legal Hotline told me. Plus, I learned this somewhere real estate school. However, if Diamond Jim cancels the sale, he will be sued for performance by the buyer. He will be sued by the buyer's agent for a commission. I probably won't sue him for a commission I earned because I know there is no chance in hell of him ever having the money to pay it. But I threatened to anyway.

Then Diamond Jim said a lot of ugly things about life in general, fired me and hung up. I wish I could say it ended there, but no. You see Diamond Jim did not know how to cancel the sale because he didn't know who the players were. Because I was fired, I refused to write up a cancellation on his behalf and I wasn't about to kiss his butt.

Around 5 p.m. last night, Diamond Jim called me, like earlier hadn't happened, asking how the sale was going. And then I laid into him. I will settle up with the Almighty later when he scolds me for my outburst. Truly, I understand Jim has an issue but there is truly no amount of money that I can be paid to deal with this bat-spit craziness. In my rant I also pointed out that he hired me to work in his best interests and we are all on the same side and perhaps he could act like we are working for a common goal. The offer for his home is amazing and he should be so lucky to have a contract like this one.

"So what are you going to do?" He barked.

"Nothing I am fired."

Suddenly Diamond Jim started figuring a few things out. If he goes through with the sale he has money. He also unburdens himself from this property. In the end I agreed to meet with him this morning. I brought Jane along as a witness. Diamond Jim insisted I stop working with his son. No. I will not. He threatened to pull out of the sale again. I explained that was his choice and gave him the phone number for the title officer. He circled around to: I wasn't to work with his son and only by doing so would he keep the transaction going. I shrugged. There is a power of attorney in place, so no. I will not abide by this. But, I conceded to let him sign his own documents (Junior can sign them legally in the background) as long as he behaved himself. I ended our negotiation telling him the following was non-negotiable: the next outburst from him and I was cutting him off and only working through Junior--though I really can't.

We left on good terms. However, as I was leaving he stopped me and said, "If I ever fire you again, just ignore it, Ok? I don't mean it."

The Merry Band of Felons

The Diamond Jim saga is changing so quickly that I can no longer keep up (summary: he doesn't know where he lives, I had to go find him yesterday as he drove around Mesa completely lost, he has pretend friends staying with him that he is fighting with and he fired me today, even though his home is in escrow). So, let's talk about Dee and her Merry Band of Felons.

Diamond Jim may be the absolute worst (possibly now-former) client, I have ever had. Dee, on the other hand is one of the best clients I have ever had. She is an amazing woman who brings love and light to my life. She thanks me. She refers me (unfortunately to other felons, but it is a start). She is kind and has gone to a lot of effort to let me know she appreciates what I do for her.

Dee feels she has been called by Divine Providence to minister to prison felons, especially those who might not be allowed to be around children ever again. Those types of felons have numbers next to their crimes: such as level 2 or level 3. Now before I go any further, I never would condone the behavior of these folks. Divine Providence didn't speak to me and ask me to mingle with these people, and if that is the case for Dee, the more power to her.

Because of the nature of her ministry, municipalities aren't in favor of her work. She has had road block after road block. Neighbors at her last home didn't like her (I sold that house!). Cities don't like her either. Recently I sat in a City of Phoenix zoning meeting where she told the truth and got her latest project shot down. Fortunately for her there are loopholes and stipulations that allow her to still do what she does. She just has to limit her involvement to specific neighborhoods. Like scary parts of Phoenix.

Anyway, two days ago she called me wanting to see a home in a scary part of Phoenix. She never comes alone. There are always three or four of her charges in tow (I once wanted to bring Buckaroo because I didn't like the neighborhood I was going into, but it would have been a parole violation if they were around him). Her Merry Band of Felons are quite useful. For example, the lock was stuck at a home once and Bill broke in found a creative way to enter. Seth is great with construction and knows about building--a skill he said he picked up in his 20+ years. Joe has "buddies" in the neighborhood who offer protection. Me? I think Dee is pretty neat. Her Merry Band of Felons are interesting. They tell great jokes, are always respectful, but I don't think I will be inviting them out for tea any time soon.

Yesterday we found a home that Seth is sure isn't going to fall down. Joe says the 'hood is reasonable (um... sure) and fortunately Bill was able to make the door work when the key didn't want to cooperate. The Merry Band of Felons are a happy lot. They have expressed gratitude to Dee and her husband for all they do. And they have shared their love for Divine Providence with others. And that is what Dee set out to do.

I Did Not See That Coming

So I spoke with Liam of Liam and Inga today. Earlier this week, they were talking about selling, but weren't in a big hurry. On Monday I had asked where they were going I got cryptic answers that made me raise an eyebrow. Also, right now they are looking on Zillow to see what their home is worth--which is significantly different than what the data I am looking at says.

Anyway, I called to follow up with Liam today, as we didn't get a chance to finish our call Monday. Yesterday was drama from Diamond Jim and drama from felon-clients day--but those are for different posts. Liam gave me the real story. They are divorcing.

And then Liam cried.

By the way, this couple is in their late 60s, early 70s. It is heartbreaking to hear what he had to say. Worse, I want to help and make his pain go away. But the way I know how to help has more to do with real estate, as I know little about their marriage. I told him I wanted to come across as a compassionate individual and not a real estate sales person as I gave him some options. He thanked me--which I appreciated.

It is on my calendar to call him next month. In the meantime I will send them comps on their home and let them sort out their other decisions.

Zillow is the Boss of All that is True and Right in the World (according to Zillow)

Disclaimer: This is not advice to you, my three-ish readers, but just words in general: we are in a boom market. If you want to sell and make a few bucks on your home, now's the time. If you want to sell AND STILL NEED A PLACE THE SAME SIZE AS THE HOME YOU HAVE RIGHT NOW, maybe not. That's why the Sunshine family isn't selling. We have nowhere to go. We don't qualify for a mortgage. We have two pets and a less-than one year bankruptcy, so on paper we aren't exactly stellar renter material either (though we know how to be fabulous tenants).

A Generic Above-Ground Pool that adds no value to one's home. 

I bring this up because Liam and Inga want to sell. They bought their home from me three years ago. Their home has appreciated in value. But, they refinanced last year and "put in a pool." So, now Zillow swears they have ample equity. Except the pool they put in was one of those above ground-disposable types that won't last more than five years. So, no value there and the money they used in their refinance is gone--but they have a higher mortgage payment. In fact the mortgaged amount is pretty close to what their home is worth.

But they won't believe me that their home isn't worth what Zillow says--even though I have given them accurate and concrete data. I can see how this will go already. They will argue until they are blue in the face, allow me to list their home and fire me when they don't get what they want for their home (it doesn't have a pool and they already mortgaged away their equity!). And only then, will they listen to the next real estate agent who comes along and tells them the same exact thing. "You will make no money if you sell your home right now. Don't move."

Plus, they still need somewhere to live. I have asked about six times where they would be moving to. I am getting cryptic answers that range from "around," to "we haven't exactly decided." I am guessing they have decided, and just aren't forthcoming with the information.

Nevertheless, Liam and Inga are talking to me about selling their home. They don't like what I am telling them (you have no equity nor can I accurately market this home as a property with a pool) and my guess is I won't be their agent very long.

The Sales Force

When I have an open house, I like to put out flyers ahead of time, with the hope some people will  actually show up. Folks who plaster flyers on people's doors expect to be paid--which is fair, they work, I however, am on a bit of a shoestring budget. Therefore, Buckaroo and his two pals get out their scooters, and travel the neighborhoods passing out flyers for me. When folks ask about the open house, they will politely talk to them, reading what is on the flyer as they have been coached (open house, Saturday, call for more details). I have to tell you, those boys are naturals.

Because they are charming, I have yet to get any complaints from neighbors asking me to stop littering. These boys work for ice cream and other special perks, such as a day of laser tag.

Today, they helped me put out 300 flyers--and that was less than 10 percent of the neighborhood. Hopefully that will bring in a few folks to Saturday's open house.

The Right Choice

I ran into Senora the other day while showing homes to the Snake-renters. Senora and I are friends, I introduced her to my former broker, El Jefe. They hit it off. Senora went to work for El Jefe and they have been BFFs ever since.

Senora was holding a rental open--a concept I enlisted while I worked for El Jefe. When we got there, I would guess, conservatively, there were about 40 folks were milling around, looking at the place and she was fielding questions, so she didn't have time for me. The home was about $200 under market and would probably have 25 applications on it by the end of the weekend. She was working the open house by herself, fishing for buyers. After all, not everyone was going to rent this one home. It is a great strategy, actually, if everyone is upfront to begin with. Hopefully Senora was transparent.

Senora looked beat. I was sad to see she was by herself. She wasn't having people sign in, so she wasn't keeping track. When I asked how she was doing, she said she is busy. It was on the tip of my tongue, but fortunately my filter was working so I didn't ask if she was making any money. I think I may know the answer anyway.

El Jefe is many things. But the top of the list is dysfunctional. He leaves a wake of unnecessary drama behind him, whether he intends to or not. It isn't that he is unkind or unscrupulous. Not at all. Even though he is a natural in sales, he is also a hot mess most of the time. He also collects those who are of value and throws away those who aren't. I watched agents go in and out of his business, knowing they deserved better (Jane). Senora is happy with this arrangement with El Jefe and the more power to her! I know she is learning so much that she can use to run a brokerage or if and when he opens a second office. But I have seen her sales numbers too. She isn't making money.

By the way, my client probably wouldn't have gotten the house anyway (she didn't want it). Not because El Jefe wouldn't have liked my folks, but because he would then have to pay an outside commission. El Jefe is also an opportunist. Why pay an outside commission when there are 24 other applicants to choose from?

I have spoken to El Jefe about once or twice a month since I left. It is nice to have a casual relationship that doesn't involve me sitting in his dark office waiting for the phone to ring as a condition to employment. Nothing he has said to me in the past six months makes me want to go back. Seeing how burned out Senora looked, clarified what I pretty much figured out: I made the right choice.

It Will Probably Come Down to the Snake This Time Too

So last year I helped this really awesome couple find a rental home (you can read about it here, if you are so inclined). Though completely and utterly wonderful, they had very poor planning skills. They also had a snake. Did I mention that?

While the wife was packing all their worldly possessions in somewhere New Mexico, I went out with the husband, who was currently couch surfing on a friend's sofa. The reason for this was because Mrs. thought it would be easy to send her husband over and he could pick and choose from all of the available rental home options. What she found was there was no such thing, especially given they needed a place for the entire family a week earlier. Anyway, the husband and I went searching for the perfect rental home (that is, one where they where their application was accepted). We went searching twice. He put in two applications and was approved for one property.

By the way, other than the snake, they would be ideal renters. So, it wasn't that there were other mitigating reasons for a landlord not to approve them. It simply came down to income. It probably came down to the snake too, but that's just my take.

Anyway, once settled, I had a quick pep-talk with the Mrs. If they chose to move next year, let's not wait until the last minute? M'k? I am pleased to report she took my advice. Their lease is up at the end of June and the Mrs. is on a hunt right now to find a place. This time is slightly different. I have explained a landlord is not going to hold a home for six weeks and if they are chosen, consider it a gift and expect to move in right now.

Yesterday I drove to North Phoenix during rush hour to show her four homes. All of them had been on the market for more than four days, which made me suspicious. The first home is in a gated infill lot. There is no parking. And worse, there was a nosy neighbor who didn't like me by the time all was said and done (I parked somewhere--quasi legally--that offended him as I refused to move my car). He was such an ass that my client said no to the home. It probably didn't help that the folks living in the place we looked at also gave my client an earful about how he is constantly leaving sticky notes on their door with such things as "I noticed when your garage was open that you still haven't moved your trash can to the other side of the garage," and other loving missives. Too bad. It was the nicest home we saw.

The other three were in neighborhoods that could euphemistically be labeled as ghetto or ghetto-light. Which is kinda too bad, because the best of those three homes was located a couple of blocks from where I grew up. But yeah, that neighborhood isn't what it used to be.

My client has realistic expectations, great credit, no evictions or convictions. She is looking much sooner than she needs to, which means we will probably go looking more often than necessary. If all goes well for her, she will find some other landlord who will approve the snake.

Golf Networking

The text message read, "Are you dying?" It came from a friend, who noticed I had posted on Facebook this past Monday. Her thought was that something awful must be happening if I was willing to actually visit the main social media platform I find twitchy.

I am fine. I am healthy. Nothing is wrong.

Anyway, I posted something innocuous on Facebook this past week. Several people responded, including John. John is a fellow agent. He is one of the best real estate agents I have ever met. He is also a lot of fun. Back in the day when he, Bill (the commercial agent) and I worked for the Y2K Real Estate, we would sit in the back of the sales meetings, passing notes and being the belligerent brats teachers hate*. One time our broker took me aside and asked me if I could, "set an example" for the other two, suggesting they were the problem and I was the easily influenced doormat. Sure. Let's go with that.

Anyway, John wrote me on Facebook and suggested we get coffee this week. As most of my life is scheduled out at least three weeks, I countered with, "how about on June 1?" Nope. He wanted THIS week. In the end, he met me at Buckaroo's golf lesson and he and I zoomed over to Starbucks while Buck puttered around the course (see what I did there?).

I suspected, and was correct, John wanted to rope me into joining him at his new company. He is pretty happy there and the opportunity truly sounds amazing. However, I am the owner and boss and even he admitted I have a better commission split than he does. So, I don't think at this time I will change brokerages. But the rest of our time together was fun and I left feeling light-hearted and happy at the result of taking just three minutes to post on Facebook.

Oh yes, two other pretty neat connections happened from that post, and subsequently from hanging out with John for 30 minutes. John and Buckaroo's golf coach met and now John is going to take a few lessons. Additionally, John invited Buck to play 18 holes next week with him. Good stuff.


*Side story: One time our broker had some "motivational" sales contest whereby the winning team would have the honor of having lunch and then go bowling with Mrs. Broker. There were two teams. Bill, John and I were on the same team. I know I purposely didn't turn in my numbers--and maybe someone else didn't or maybe someone on the other team fudged their numbers--but anyway, our team lost. 

My broker proudly announced the winners of the contest at the sales team, stressing how fortunate the winners were that they would be able to have such a grand opportunity to be in the presence of the greatness of Mrs. Broker. All the while this is going on, John, Bill and I sat in the back of our sales meeting, high-fiving each other that we dodged that bullet. That's the kind of mature, grown-ups we were.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day. 

If you have one in your life, please say something nice to her. If you are a Mother, Happy Mother's Day. You are honored in my eyes. It is a tough job.

Diamond Jim

Diamond Jim's home is going on the market. So, I hear. The sign post has been ordered. I am not putting it active until he moves out. This is my rule, and his family is being respectful of it. But it makes sense too. Nobody can predict what will happen if a would-be buyer comes to the door with Diamond Jim living there. First, he may not remember his home is for sale. Or, he may think (as he has in the past) that I own the home and I am kicking him out and give a potential buyer an earful on that.

Sadly, Diamond Jim is not doing well, physically, emotionally or financially. I worry about him. Even though he doesn't live too far away, getting over to see him isn't as easy as it should be. He sleeps a lot lately. He wears down quickly when I go to see him. And the list goes on. However, I DO need to see him tomorrow--and it is on my calendar--to bring over my real estate sign. I will also probably bring over some groceries.

The game plan is that Diamond Jim is moving into assistive care at the end of the week. Last time this was the game plan he balked at the last second and made everyone who was involved lives a living hell. This time, he initiated the move, so hopefully he is more willing. But that remains to be seen. Either way, he has to move, because his son just found out Diamond Jim has forgotten to pay his mortgage for the past several months.

It is difficult to watch my friend wear down. Once vibrant, he has a dull look in his eyes. A proud man, but now beaten by aging, though he doesn't like to admit it. The biggest shock to me is that he used to be impeccably dressed and groomed at all times. I had never seen him in anything--even visiting him at home--where his hair wasn't cut and combed, his slacks (never jeans!) were pressed and he always wore a long-sleeve button-up shirt. Always. Even in the heat of the summer. But that isn't my Diamond Jim now. For him, he is doing his level best to publicly act like the man he was three years ago. Unfortunately, his level best isn't fooling any one.

Safe Space

I don't often post politically, but this week got the best of me. As a daughter of a father who was in the union, I have very strong opinions. I offered my (unpopular) opinion of the Arizona teacher's strike on social media. Though I am a firm believer of First Amendment rights, and whether you agree or disagree, I will defend your right to believe what you believe. Because that is the way the framers of the Constitution designed it. We are lucky to be living in a place where we can say what we feel without consequence. Or at least that's what I have always been told.

What I found was Arizona's educators were not on board with my First Amendment rights and told me so. The people in charge of Arizona's youth were ugly, combative and apparently skilled in anatomy, as I was told my head needed to be dislodged from some other body part--and that was one of the kinder comments I received. Civility be damned! What I found amazing was the number of folks who could not have a decent conversation about this issue, but took the time to personally attack me instead.

Now, as far as I am concerned, sticks and stones. However, I am hearing stories that are making me cringe. One gentleman I know, who happens to be a business owner, approached someone protesting, saying he thought they were right in spirit, but perhaps they had taken their cause too far. The man had his business name on his car. By the time he got back to work, there had been several Yelp reviews falsely written about his company. His phones and e-mails were clogged with unkind and ugly comments. His employees took harassing calls all day. And, when he got home, there was a death threat taped to his wife's car.

A teacher posted on social media that if any of her students came to school wearing purple (the anti-teacher position, apparently), they were automatically getting an F. The guy who runs the mailbox store a few miles from here told me of a rock through the window of someone's car, because the owner of the car had made public their unpopular opinion too.

The Arizona Department of Real Estate demands my business name is on my social media (including this blog, but then again, let the AZDRE find this blog first). My business name was public. My first name isn't too common, and if one did a bit of digging, they could easily find my home address. It never occurred to me when I commented that the teacher's union thugs would be so vial and I should have to worry about safety. I don't have many social media followers, but others who made more impassioned comments do have more followers. Should they be on alert? My safety and that of my family should never be at risk in this country for sharing a differing opinion. That concerns me.

Public Service Announcement

If your accidental business closes, say in 2017, and your 2017 tax returns show a refund, ESPECIALLY because of business losses, you don't get to keep your entire tax refund. Even if you spent part of it on glamorous items such as car insurance. Or even if you spent a small fortune paying a forensic accountant a LOT of money to fix the prior year's tax return that your former CPA with onset dementia doesn't remember messing up beyond recognition. If that money came from your tax return, it doesn't matter. It wasn't yours to spend--even if you didn't know it.

If indeed you end up in this situation, it is best to make sure your attorney tells you upfront that your refund belongs to the bankruptcy court. If that doesn't happen (argh!) call the bankruptcy trustee and plead your case. You will still owe the money but at least the trustee won't sic a pack of dogs on you. Moral of the story: Honesty is the best policy

In our case, we have enough to cover this faux pas, but dang! It would have been nice to know this upfront!