Hoarder House & Drunken Neighbor

Yep. It was an interesting day. Seriously interesting.

We have grown quite significantly on the wholesaling side of our business and have been able to share amazing deals with our external private clients and buyers lists. This means I have interactions all the time with sellers in need of sellers, with varying personalities, problems, needs, wants, and of course, houses.

This past year, we were pretty lucky with getting a lot of great leads, and we’ve had a pretty respectable conversion rate on those properties. It didn’t hurt that we got to see a lot of great houses and meet a lot of great people.

Today, well, today was a bit more interesting. In the sense of “wow” and “gross” and “scary.” And “what the HECK.” And in a blood-pulsing-creepy-crawling-scary kind of way.

The First Stop

I was so excited about this property. It is located in an area where we have bought for other clients and where we hold for ourselves. It was a perfect setup — nice lot, brick-front ranch on a crawl space, 3/1, around 1,000 square feet. I pulled in, with the misty cold rain coming down at a pretty good clip, and reached my hand out to the old-timer dude who just rolled out of a beautiful new-ish white Mercedes. We walked up towards the house, and one of his first comments was, “I’m sorry, but I can’t find the key, but we can walk around the outside.”

So we did carefully, dodging the snow/ice patches, puddles, and mud pits of the yard.

The house wasn’t so exciting once we got closer. The entire brick facade of the property was literally falling off of itself. On one side, a window frame was hemmed in in front and behind (from top to bottom) with the brick layers moving at a steep angle past it. The whole thing was bowing down in the center and breaking off at every window or peak, and the other end was pouring out someone’s life savings in spray foam.

It was awesome to behold. Gulp.

We walked around the side of the property where the siding had begun to completely deteriorate away from whatever was still behind it trying to hold it up. The roof was clearly completely gone, some shingles not even visible in places. The city had been out and made him paint the side of the house — just one side, and so there was fresh paint on the side. Yeah. Not sure on that one either, but he was happy it didn’t involve painting the back of the house.

Because on the back, the siding (which I couldn’t even quite distinguish its condition) was in sprawling, mangled pieces, with parts strewn across the back of the property. Wow.

We didn’t make it inside since the key was nowhere to be found, but I didn’t need to get into it anyway. I asked the man if he had in fact gotten other offers, and he said he had about a month back. I told him to RUN back to that guy and take his offer.

The Second Stop

Stop Two was a bit of a drive, so I made a few calls on the way and got excited for the next deal. I couldn’t possibly go zero for two. I pulled up to the house on what was a pretty awesome street of solid potential rental houses and pulled into the driveway. The first thing I noticed was the concrete foundation on the entire side of the house was completely gone. Literally not there. I could see part of the rim joist hanging out there, blowing in the wind. Nothing. To sit on.

Ok, not awesome.

I walked around the house and noticed serious wood rot, and nearly every window had been knocked out or shot out. One window was totally open. I opened the door to the house and BAM — punch to the gut. I’ve been in my fair share of hoarder houses, and this one was clearly interested in winning that race. I couldn’t walk anywhere in the ranch level 1,500 square foot house without stepping on or IN (barf) something. In some places, the trash was 3-4 feet deep. It was just clothing and things, but all of it was 90% trash. Trash. And more trash.

So. Gross.

It wasn’t awesome, but at least it had a bit of potential for someone, I thought. I took my pictures and my notes and got into my truck and drove on.

The Third Stop

I pulled up to the front of the house and parked because I had actually just gotten another wholesale lead for the day. The woman was clearly having a rough day, week, and year. I felt terrible for her and was trying to take some notes and understand the situation and deal, and hopefully go by the house as soon as I could to see it.

After speaking with her for a few minutes, I noticed a car had pulled up next to me, and I wasn’t sure what they wanted. So I looked over and made eye contact, and within a few seconds, I recognized several groups of words that, let’s just say, you wouldn’t use in a civilized blog like this one. And he just kept going, sitting there, cussing me out. I motioned that I could pull back a bit, which I did, and he parked quickly, strangely, and aggressively into his driveway, sideways. He was not a small dude. He got out of the crappy car, a 24 oz malt liquor in hand, and continued the barrage of cuss words and insults. I ended the call with the seller and stepped out of the truck.

Calmly, I told him I was sorry if I was in front of his house, but no problem, I would move, and for him to have a nice day. He took another step towards me, asking why I was there, and bleep this and bleep that, all in front of his bleep/bleep kids. I said I was there to check on the house for the owner. He didn’t care. He kept after me with the verbal insanity.

I got into my truck and got the hell out of dodge.

The Fourth Stop

Well, it had not been the day I had hoped for. The first three appeared to have little potential for deals — maybe number two — and no way I would want any of my guys buying a house next to crazy neighbor guy of number three. So I was seriously hopeful for this one.

I pulled up and accidentally passed the property because, come to find out, several of her old, tired house numbers were not present.

The house was creepy. Yes. And the boarded up piece of plywood had been removed by someone. I walked into the door, feeling totally anxious and uncomfortable with the house, and quickly surveyed. The entire house, front to back was slanting, with the roof caving in and crap everywhere. I didn’t even walk into it further. It felt like the wholesaling gods weren’t working that day, and it was time to get the heck out of there.

Today’s lesson for me was about patience and perseverance. There aren’t always great days in real estate. Some are amazing — a big deal, a closing, a new tenant, or a successful rehab. Some aren’t so great, with repairs, tenants not paying, or unexpected issues hidden behind a wall.

The saying is certainly a cliché, that real estate investing is a marathon, not a sprint. For me today, I had a big fat zero sandwich to swallow. Not fun. But tomorrow I’ll be back after it, finding more deals, talking to more sellers, and finding awesome deals that DO work for us and our private clients.

What’s the craziest house YOU’VE ever been in?

Let me know with a comment!

Note By BiggerPockets: These are opinions written by the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions of BiggerPockets.