Summer Rental Horror Stories

I knew there was trouble before I even entered my house,” Pat told me, her voice shaking. “The front stoop was packed with broken, overflowing plastic bags filled with rotting garbage.”

Unable to make it through the garbage, Pat and Rich circled to the back of their home only to discover all of the outdoor furniture thrown into the pool, along with Rich’s trophy pigskin football, an irreplaceable memento from his college days. This was only a shocking trailer for the horror film inside.

Every square inch of the kitchen counters was filled with greasy pots and dirty dishes. The living room mahogany tables were covered with half filled cocktail glasses that left rings. Cigarette butts were everywhere—the upholstery was stained and still wet. Scratched woodwork, spoiled rugs, filthy pillows fit only for the Dumpster were but a Whitman’s Sampler of what these two homeowners discovered after their summer renters had left.

“It was worse than an ‘Animal House’ frat party and a pack of dogs,” Pat said.

As they walked upstairs, the couple discovered that the renter’s children had taken magic markers to the walls, furniture and bed linens. Soiled underwear and unwashed piles of the renters’ personal clothing were spread out everywhere. Prescription drugs were scattered throughout and the entire home reeked of burnt curry. The crevices between the waxed antique floorboards were filled with colored paints that originated when the children chose to use their spin art.

“Our renter was a renowned New York artist, but obviously we should have checked his references. After viewing the wreckage, my daughter, Leigh, suggested they put me in a straitjacket and send me to the asylum,” Pat continued.

Such is only one of the many harrowing stories I have heard of late from those who have chosen to rent their homes this past summer and have come back to reclaim them in less than stellar condition.

Helen from East Hampton also told me of her personal horror story.

“I believe I am not alone in this erroneous assumption that someone who is renting my house shares my aesthetics and my idea of a home and how a home should be treated. After all, they came in and said, ‘I like this house. I would like to live here, ’albeit briefly,” she said. “Under this misguided notion, I tell them to enjoy my house as if it was theirs. Unfortunately, they did.”

Whether it is the souring economy, the soaring costs of home maintenance, the record demand for Hamptons rentals, or the changing profile of renters, an altered behavior has seemingly been raising its ugly head as of late. Renters are leaving their rentals in such wretched states that homeowners are coming to believe that the renters are acting in retribution as if the renter feels they paid too dearly for this vacation and trashing the residence is the only mark that they could leave behind as just desserts for paying so much.

My friend, Susan, who rented her home for the first time this past summer fumed.

“Renters treat owners as speed bumps in their way,” she said.

She added that she felt that her renters, without paying for it, expected her to be “the concierge, the super and the maid.”

Another friend told a story that a tenant threatened her on a previously agreed upon day to prune the trees.

“She circled around me with a cellphone attached to her ear, screaming at her real estate agent to come and remove the tree-pruning landlord.” Obviously, the real estate agent profusely apologized for the tenants’ horrid behavior.

Bridgehampton resident Patsy refers to the summer renters who don’t understand country etiquette as the “urbans.” Patsy’s friend had remarked that her garage at summer’s end was packed with lethal pesticides, obviously sprayed fervently over the yard in hopes of destroying every living insect, good or bad, that might buzz nearby.

Of course, people always take risks when renting their home for the summer. And many who don’t rent out their homes feel that these complaints from those who do and collect a bundle who are simply whining. But this year, the “whining” seems to have to shifted to outrage.

One tenant was said to have used up most of her utility and security deposits in the first few weeks of June by keeping the pool heated to 90 degrees, using up nearly two large tanks of gas. The homeowner stopped by one afternoon to verify the extraordinary use of gas and found so much steam rising off the pool that it created a “Brigadoon” effect and she couldn’t even see the house.

And of course, the unpredictably unimaginable can occur. A tenant removed an indoor dining table from the dining room to create another bedroom. He then left the table outside on the lawn for the entire summer, which ruined the table. Another tenant’s child poured olive oil all over the kitchen floor, painted the walls with the olive oil and then proceeded to walk over the limestone floor into several rooms and over the carpets. Needless to say, the carpets were ruined and the stone floor was heavily stained.

Robin, a resident of the Northwest Woods, initially refused to rent to a tenant with a dog. But she was convinced by a real estate agent that the animal was “an excellent, trained purebred.” Not only was the dog not well trained, but it chewed on towels, bedspreads, chairs and table legs, damaging most everything. The same tenant also snuck in an older incontinent dog that managed to leave large soupy piles on the rugs and upholstery, which were not cleaned up. There was not enough money in the security deposit to cover all the damages.

After having a summer tenant, most landlords take for granted that their electrical systems, audio-visual, and computer setups will take some readjusting.

“Every dimmer, every TV, all the iPod programming and audio system had to be reprogrammed despite the fact that I spent several hours walking my tenant through it,” claimed a Southampton homeowner.

Even the simpler homeowner appliances seemed to baffle Susan’s tenants.

“I found three of my Tiffany crystal glasses shattered in the bottom of my dishwasher. They didn’t even know how to clean it out,” she said. (I did advise her that perhaps next time she should put away the Tiffany crystal.)

Odd things do occur, like a tenant who was so irritated by the phone ringing that she left the phone off the hook until the phone company disconnected the phone line and the homeowners arrived to discover a it, which took several weeks to get reconnected.

But there’s more than one side to every story. One Bridgehampton real estate agent made the argument that the end of summer can be trying for the renter as well. According to him, normal wear and tear is customary at the end of the rental, such as a few marks on the walls or scuffs on the baseboard, which, he admitted should be taken care of. But one of his homeowners was so annoyed at the scuffs that she insisted the entire house be repainted and that the tenant pay for housing her for two months while the house was being painted.

Complaints I hear most frequently from summer landlords are that kitchens are topsy-turvy (to be expected) or that the garage door openers are missing, innocently absconded with by a forgetful tenant. Furniture is often rearranged and other odd things go missing.

Helen named clock radios, kitchen utensils and the toilet plunger as some items that she’s noticed lost after a rental.

One Northwest tenant forgot to pull up the homeowner’s kayak, which was subsequently lost to Hurricane Irene.

But what a bad tenant taketh away, the good tenant giveth away. I personally have received five crystal vases left by the lovely wife of a famous NASCAR racer. That family also left an expensive gas grill (that I tried to return to them), countless bottles of good scotch, bourbon, gin and vodka and a case of fine wine. They also left cashmere scarves, pool toys, beach umbrellas, beach chairs and assorted straw hats.

Not everyone gets such generous renters. Some of the unwanted leftovers include: condiments, soda, ice cream of all flavors, half-drunk liquids, moldy cheese and all manner of foodstuffs. Helen mused that she found left behind, “a 10-year supply of cereal flakes and an estimated seven bushels of apples.”

What can also be left is the impression on your neighbors’ memories of your tenants. Typical, of course, are loud parties, raucous behavior and screaming children shouting “Marco Polo” all summer long. These unpleasantries need to be addressed with the neighbors. Perhaps a nice bottle of wine can help soothe their ruffled feathers.

There was a greater demand for rentals this summer than ever before, according to many real estate agents. They added that more homeowners put their homes up for rent this season than ever before. So perhaps the conflicts arose from a degree of inexperience on both sides.

As advice to the homeowner thinking about renting out for next summer, an agent friend of mine suggested to interview the potential tenants and prepare your home for someone who will not care for it exactly as you would. Insist on the tenant hiring a caretaker or housekeeper you know and trust to care for your home while the tenant is in residency. After the fact, allot money out of your rental income to have someone, other than yourself, come and thoroughly clean your home and care for the property immediately after your tenant leaves so that you do not walk into an “Animal House” horror show yourself.

If any tenants have actually read this far without cursing the whiney, money-grubbing landlords, I offer a few words of advice that I have learned from several wonderful past tenants of mine: My tenants left a short kind note of thanks; they took out the garbage to the appropriate spot; they left the dirty towels and sheets near the laundry and the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. These great tenants also took home all their foodstuffs or generously gave it to my cleaning service or threw it in the garbage; they thanked everyone who serviced them that summer and said goodbye to the neighbors, all of whom reported back their good will. They left my home as they found it. Most of my renters have taught me this and left with a gesture of gratitude in their path—and with good karma to boot.