Last Friday afternoon, I had an appointment to see a duplex I may have been interested in buying. On paper, it had everything I wanted. It was the spacious enough, the asking price was reasonable and best if all, it was only half rented. Generally, I prefer my multi-family properties to sport an open unit so I can move into the building myself for a period of time. I like to do this because banks will give you a significantly lower interest rate on owner occupied properties as opposed to strictly investment properties.

People are always asking me to describe what owning rental property entails. The answer to that is simple: It’s a lot of moving. If you want to get into this, I hope your furniture is light weight and you tend to keep your junk possession ownership to a minimum. Otherwise, moving twice a year may just be the equivalent of torture to you.

So anyway, the agent and I showed up at the duplex at noon on the dot. We started in the empty unit and I meticulously checked it for damage. I started a mental tally of the things I would need to replace complete with estimates on how much it would cost me to replace them. Fortunately, most of the stuff that was wrong with the unit would end up being quick, cheap fixes.

After I went over the unit with a fine toothed comb, I asked to check out the basement. The furnaces, hot water tanks, and electrical boxes all looked newer. It had rained pretty hard the day before and I noticed there was some dampness in one of the corners. So I went outside to make sure the slope was right. It was a little off and I noticed one of the gutters was broken which could feasibly explain the moisture in the basement. Again, those are easy fixes.

Finally, it was time to go through the occupied unit. If anyone has ever lived in a multi-family building that was put up for sale, it can be a stressful experience. I see the nervousness in the tenant’s eyes every time I go through their apartments. They wonder if I’m going to evict them. They want to know if I’m going to raise the rent. Will I have a problem with their pets? Will I be a real stickler for demanding the rent on time? Will I do necessary repairs in a timely fashion? Sometimes they tentatively ask some of these questions as I carefully examine their homes. Other times, they silently agonize. I suppose they wonder if I’m quietly judging them.

I hate to say it, but the answer to that yes. That is exactly what I’m doing. When I go through an apartment, I am paying just as much (If not more!) attention to the quality of the people living there than I am paying to the quality of the structure. If you have kids, I am checking to make sure that there isn’t any coloring on the walls. If you have pets, I am paying close attention to how the apartment smells in order to determine if the beasts have defecated on the floors. I don’t care how many times you apologize for the mess. If I noticed a weeks worth of dishes stacked up in the kitchen sink, I am making plans to evict you. Dirty people rarely pay the rent on time.

The way I see it is each tenant is given 24 hours notice before I show up at their door. That is plenty of time to at least tidy up. If you can’t put forth a little effort into making your apartment look clean and well cared for, I don’t want you as a tenant. I have no interest in being a slumlord.

For example, the very first thing I noticed when we approached the rented unit was that the door was wide open. The agent, Ron, immediately knocked on the screen. No one answered.

I gave him a look and he knocked again; this time a little harder. Again, no one replied.

“Hello!” he called into the apartment, “This is Ron _____ from ______. I was supposed to meet you here at noon!”

Silence.

Ron looked over at me. “I think we should just go in.”

“We should?”

“Absolutely. We have an appointment. I am 100% sure this tenant is expecting us.”

“Alright, but if someone is having sex in there, it is seriously going to ruin my day.”

Ron laughed and very brazenly opened the screen door. I followed him inside. Quickly, he walked through the apartment calling out to the tenant. Finally, he met me back in the living room.

“She’s not here.” He told me, “I guess she stepped out for a bit. I don’t know why she left the door open, though. She knows I have a key.”

“That’s a little weird.” I replied. He shrugged.

Oddly enough, going through someone’s apartment when they’re not there felt more like an evasion of their privacy to me than it does when they are there. As I flicked on lights and opened closets, I kept expecting her to waltz in the front door and start shrieking at ‘the intruders.’

I made my way into the master bedroom. It was a little on the small side, but what struck me about it was it had two closets. Double closets in a tiny duplex aren’t really normal in this area, so of course I wanted to check them out. However, immediately after opening one of the closets, I realized it wasn’t a closet all. It was one of those bedrooms that are off of another bedroom. I hate those. Primarily because if one has to walk through a bedroom to get to another bedroom, you can not legally rent it as a two bedroom apartment. So it’s generally just a colossal waste of space.

This particular tenant had her second ‘bedroom’ set up as a nursery. I strolled across the room real quick to take a peak at the window when suddenly I froze. Because there was a baby in the crib. A real, live baby. Sleeping in the crib. All by herself. In an apartment with the front door wide open. For a second there, I was speechless.

Just then, Ron walked into the room. “Oh, this is interesting…” he was saying.

“Ron!” I hissed, “Shh! There’s a baby in the crib!”

“A baby?”

“Yes! A baby!”

“Oh my God.”

Slowly, we backed out of the room.

“Where’s the Mother?” I demanded.

“I have no idea,” Ron replied. “She was supposed to be here!”

“What should we do?”

“Maybe we should leave?” Ron was aghast. Obviously, how to handle a situation like this wasn’t listed in his realtor handbook.

“We can’t just leave!” I admonished. “There’s a baby in there!”

“I know. Oh my God….”

We stood there in the master bedroom wringing our hands for a few minutes. Then, I had an idea.

“We should call the police!”

No sooner was the sentence out of my mouth when we heard the screen door swing open. The tenant called into her house, “Hello?”

“We’re here!” Ron called back.

We met her in the living room. “Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you,” she told us, “But I needed a pack of smokes, so I walked to the grocery store.”

“Is that your daughter in the other room?” I butt in.

“Yes, that’s Hailey.” She smiled. “She’s 8 months old.”

“You walked to grocery store while she was sleeping?” I pressed.

“Uh…yeah?” she answered.

“But the grocery store is 2 miles away!” At this point in the conversation, my tone was downright accusatory.

“I didn’t want to wake her up from her nap!” the tenant replied defensively. “Besides, I do it all the time. She’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” I snapped, “But that’s really poor judgment.”

“She’s fine!” the tenant snapped back.

Finally, Ron decided to join the conversation. “Uh, well, on that note, we should be going. Thanks for letting us in!” He motioned towards the door. I glared at the tenant for a few brief moments before I finally followed him out.

Outside, he whispered, “I thought you were going to hit her for a second there.” He giggled nervously.

“Well, who the hell leaves a baby alone in an apartment with the doors wide open!” I growled, “Do you realize how long she was gone? We could have walked in there and snatched that kid if we wanted too!”

“I must say, I’ve been a real estate agent for almost 20 years and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I am so not going to buy that property!” I vowed.

Ron nodded bleakly. “I really don’t blame you.”

We had another appointment to see a different duplex at one o’clock, but I canceled it. I couldn’t get home to call children’s services fast enough.

Ron seemed like he understood.