In my last post, I shared how my general contractor had replaced two older men with one younger man as his “crew” of subcontractors. Meanwhile, I secretly tried to replace him with another GC.

The new subcontractor was extremely high-energy. He told me he could do any job we needed, and he could do it quickly. Within days of his energetic start, he pulled me aside privately and confided that the GC had yet to pay him anything and, instead, had actually asked to borrow money from him.

*Face Palm*

This was looking worse and worse. I immediately tried to establish that the money issue was between the sub and the GC. I was to pay the GC, the GC was to pay him. I told him I was sorry this was happening but he’d have to take it up with the GC. He seemed to mentally lock me in as his ally, nonetheless.

He started telling me more secrets about the GC. How the GC had blatantly told the sub to “just do anything you can to make it look like we’re getting work done.” The sub had gotten in such a manic rush to do so, that he started priming the walls (we were definitely not at the stage of construction to do that) and he ripped out all the baseboards (not something I was planning to do at all). Each week the house just looked worse and worse with no real progress made.

Then things really went off the rails.

I was still going around and around with the GC about fixing the deck he said he was working on but was not. I did a lot of research on my own and sent him various spindles and floor options to see what would work. Finally, I said we just needed to meet at Lowes and pick out the materials together so he could just get that done already.

First, he tried to send the sub on his behalf. I told him no.

Then, he agreed to meet me at 9 a.m. the next morning, but by 6:30 am, he texted that he couldn’t make it and could do 10 a.m. instead. I was getting livid again.

“10 a.m. is a problem for me. You said you have no other projects going on, so what’s the issue now?”

He got defensive again, fueling my rage. “Dana, there isn’t any other project going on, but I can’t get a truck big enough to haul the materials we need. If you have a way to haul the stuff, I can meet at 9 a.m.”

Blood. Boiling. Want To Squeeze Something Until It Disintegrates.

Up to this point, I had been pretty even keeled when I talked to him but now we were both getting heated. I shot back a text: “I don’t have a way to haul it, I’m not a contractor. If you don’t have a truck then why did you tell me last night you would meet me at 9 a.m.? I have rearranged my schedule for this.”

He answered haughtily with another excuse. “Listen, I’ve been in the bed sick since 3 p.m. yesterday.” Oh, you’re sick, alright.

After more curt replies from me and defensive replies from him, we agreed to meet at 10.

I could barely look at him once I got to Lowes, I was so over it all. But he did show up at least. Let’s see how he worms his way out of this one.

We start going down the aisle, filling giant carts up with various materials. I had mentioned he would be the one to pay for the materials this time and he didn’t balk. I was morbidly curious what would actually happen at the register given I was pretty sure he had zero intention of paying.

I never got the chance to see what would happen at the register because we never made it there. At one point, he could sense I was done with his games, and he tried to get me to “go outside and talk.” I couldn’t take it anymore. Still not raising my voice, I firmly said “No. I don’t want to talk. I want to get this done.” To which he turned victim again and complained he’d had a lot on his plate, yada yada. I got even more furious. I finally shot back “I have a lot on my plate too and I’m here doing your job…”

And that’s when he lost it. Right there in the composite decking aisle.

He raised his voice and said “I don’t need this!” and began storming out of the store. I abandoned our full cart and followed, as confused workers watched the whole scene. He started swearing. I kept my composure. I knew we were finally at the end of our journey together. I calmly said, “I need to get the items you have in your storage unit.” (By that point, unfortunately, he actually had finally picked up my bathroom vanities and he also had the flooring, lights, etc. I had foolishly already paid him for.) He kept storming towards his vehicle. I said, “I can follow you and get that stuff now,” to which he practically spat out more swear words about how that wasn’t going to happen. I kept following him to his vehicle. The vehicle he made us wait until 10 a.m. for. The vehicle that was supposed to be a large truck to haul all the stuff we had just gathered.

He was in no such vehicle.

The scene didn’t fully compute at first. Wait, wha..? I stared, dumbfounded, at the same small SUV he always drove as I struggled to understand his thought process. How did he think this was going to end?? He showed up at Lowes, went through the charade of picking out a ton of items, and then what? Was he going to act like someone stole his truck when we got out to the parking lot?! I was astounded to the point of near admiration.

I watched him shamelessly get into a completely different vehicle than the one we pushed our meeting back to accommodate the acquisition of and I stated: “You didn’t even have a truck.” He spouted off that NO HE DID NOT and got in. I was shaking. I told him he lied, he was stealing, and I needed him to give me my stuff. I walked away as he drove off.

…then I jumped in my vehicle and followed him.

I know, I know! It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, and I’m not even sure what I thought it would accomplish, other than show me where he lived just in case I needed to take cops there later.

I figured I could stay far enough back to where maybe he wouldn’t even notice. But he must have noticed because we basically just drove nowhere. I followed him for a bit, “hiding” a few cars back, before I realized he wasn’t going to his house. I gave up and drove off.

The whole thing was so confounding that I don’t even recall the details of what all happened next, but I know he and I continued to pretend we could move past the incident and keep working together. (I knew we couldn’t move past the incident, but fight crazy with crazy, right?) I played the game to try and get my materials from him. He did it, no doubt, to see if he could get more money out of me.

He had left various tools and things in my house, and he still had his sub coming to the job site, so I dropped by the next morning. I told the sub what happened and asked if he would put new locks on the doors. If the GC was going to hold my materials hostage, I figured I could keep his tools safe for him until we could make an exchange. The sub had no issues doing that and he started saying things about how the GC was not going to get away with not paying him and that he and I were “in this together.” (No. No we are not. Stop that.) At one point, he asked where the GC lived.

Woah! Hey! *nervous laugh* Let’s not get crazy here….

Thankfully, I did not know where the GC lived, as evidenced by my failed wild goose chase out of Lowes, so I could honestly tell him I didn’t know. Whatever vigilante justice was being considered here; I wanted no part of it. I just wanted my stuff back and to move on with my life.

I tried to part ways with the sub and wish him well. He would randomly text me about how “we” were not going to let the GC get away with this. I kept politely shutting him down until I finally stopped replying and eventually, thank the Lord, he did too. I don’t know if he ever attempted to get his money back, or what that attempt might have entailed, but I don’t want to know.

The GC never came for his tools. He also never gave me the materials I bought that were supposedly in his storage shed (worth a lot more than the tools). I assume he had already sold them to someone else.

We had more text exchanges where he claimed he’d bring my stuff, then would have every excuse in the world why he couldn’t. I finally told him he left me no choice but to call the police. I was still being exceptionally nice to him and told him I hoped he found peace. He stopped responding.

I did call the police. And they did nothing.

I realize now he knew they wouldn’t. I’m sure he’s probably run this scam on other people. Probably why he left town then came back. He probably stayed somewhere until people caught on, then moved again. The whole thing would have made an interesting movie to watch, had it not been reality and had it not cost me a substantial amount of money and sanity as the plot unfolded.

I was told the only thing I could do would be to sue him. Ha! How do you sue someone who doesn’t own possessions and is borrowing from his own workers? Again – I’m sure he knew all this. That’s how the scam keeps working. There’s no real recourse. Except, possibly, whatever recourse that sub-contractor might have been planning… *puts hands over ears and sings loudly to avoid being an accomplice*

I actually did hear from other contractors in the area that my GC had scammed the wrong person in town a few years prior and had been “taken out back behind Hardees and had the you-know-what beat out of him.” It was over stolen materials. Guess what they were?

Bathroom vanities.

Sweet irony.

I heard someone else nearly strangled him to death before that. I don’t condone violence, but I can’t say I’m surprised.

As for me, I finally — after much prayer — managed to just let it go. Yes, I was livid that I was taken advantage of, lied to, stolen from, and had no good option for justice. But God has helped me a lot in the last few years to let vengeance be His and wait for Him to make things right for me when I’ve been wronged. I can be grateful this situation wasn’t worse. I know investors who have lost a lot more money than I did in scams. And I really do feel sorry for that GC. That can’t be an enjoyable life and I assume he can’t even see a way out of that life now. He’s a prisoner to whatever compels him to do that to people and that would be awful.

After GC and I parted ways, I worked valiantly to find another solution for the house.

And was spectacularly let down repeatedly.

I talked to real estate agents who worked with other investors to see if someone might want to do an off-market deal. They got my hopes up only to ghost me (and, in one instance, keep my house key and stop replying when I begged for its return. Seriously, what is wrong with people anymore?!)

I talked again to “Pete,” the only licensed GC I could find in the area who said he’d consider working on the house just to help me out. He finally declined. But recommended someone else. Who then eventually ghosted me too.

I got called by the city that neighbors were complaining the grass was too long. I found someone to mow the lawn … and he eventually ghosted me too. Right after he called the nosey neighbor a curse word.

At one point, people started using the house as a dumping ground and a torn-up couch appeared in the driveway.

Eventually, I just went numb. I conceded to what felt like my fate. I couldn’t fix the house. I couldn’t sell the house. I couldn’t even burn the thing down and start over because it was made of concrete.

I was going to pay taxes, insurance, and lawn mowing for the rest of my life and the snakes and vagrants and drug dealers could just live in the house at will. It’d be like my own little non-profit organization. Free housing for reptiles and law breakers, here! You’re welcome, society.

I tried another contractor, had a couple more interactions with the nosey neighbor, then I finally gave up completely and put the thing up for sale. Well, actually first I finally just cried, then I put it up for sale. And left town.

A few weeks later, I got a text that felt like a mirage. “We have an offer.”

Another investor decided to bite. No inspections. No contingencies. He even offered more than I paid originally, which was a miracle in and of itself since the only thing I did to the house was put on a new roof and make everything else worse.

I basically held my breath the weeks leading up to closing, praying he wouldn’t change his mind.

But on a beautiful day in August, we signed the closing papers and my brief time as the distraught owner of that house came to an end.

Do I wish things had turned out differently? Of course. I had set out to rehab a house back to life and turn it into an income-producing asset and I failed completely.

But I learned a lot from that experience. I learned about construction, creative financing, and to never, ever pay a contractor up front.

Honestly, though, I think one of the main takeaways from all of it was that it added to my confidence. That might sound odd considering I failed at what I set out to do but hear me out.

Robert Kiyosaki wrote something in Rich Dad, Poor Dad about how he wasn’t afraid to try something that might fail because he knew himself and knew he’d figure a way out no matter what. I’m paraphrasing horribly, but you get the idea. I think that’s the surprising gift of failure. It teaches us that failing won’t kill us and that we are capable of getting resourceful, fighting through it, and coming out the other side.

Funny enough, I’m ready to take on more real estate adventures and I’m now looking to try building new construction with some partners in a different state. We actually finalized papers to buy a lot of land the exact same day I closed the sale of that crazy house, go figure.

On to the next adventure. ;)