By Steve Gibbs

YOU KNOW, I TAKE GOOD CARE of my tenants at my little storage building out in the Nevada desert. I’m a generous and flexible man. I work with tenants down on their luck, tenants with consistency problems, and all the rest. I bought the place in 2004 on the cheap and it’s paid for and I’ve not raise my rent since I bought it.

Every six months, Christmas and July, I mail out seven return envelopes to all customers. In the Christmas package everyone gets 16 postage stamps and a handmade card. I tell them the extra four stamps are for letters to grandma.

When someone becomes too late, I send them a hand-written postcard from one of my vacations. I have a stack from San Diego and Pennsylvania right now. I give an update on my doings, wish them well, and remind them to send the rent. It comes. I’ve never had an auction.

Shortly after I bought the place one guy abandoned his unit and I gave his stuff away, fishing equipment, muskrat traps, and duck decoys. Everyone always pays and I have been sold out almost consistently except for 2008 and 2009. I have customers who go back decades.

I deal with middle of the month movements by not prorating for partial months. They are free in and out. I only charge for full months and everyone gets a free one. If you move into a unit on, say, June 6, you would not pay for June and July is free. Pay starts in August, send a contract and a $20 deposit. If you decide to move out in August, your entire stay is free and I’ll mail back your $20 if the place is clean. No one has ever done that to me, but the loophole is there wide as a church door.

I call people when their rent is behind and we shoot the bull. They know why I called so I don’t need to bring it up. We talk heath, weather, economy, local politics, copper mining prospects, whatever comes up. Some folks write me letters with their checks. They tell me what’s up or send me something funny they clipped. Sometimes I do the same with them. I have one old woman customer who, I am convinced, intentionally pays late so that I will call her. When I reach her, I’m on the phone for half an hour. I tell my customers I’m a green grocer at heart, but unlike a grocer I don’t get to see my customers face to face, which I would prefer, so mail and phone calls bring in the slack.

My advertising budget is zero. I do not advertise in any newspaper or flier. I can be found with a Google search for Yerington storage. Beyond that, it’s word of mouth or you’ve seen my little sign by the driveway, as my business cannot be seen from the road.

This topic is on my mind because of a lucky break I had recently. I was saying to Susan, “Susan, I haven’t had anyone call to rent a storage unit in a long time. Good thing we are sold out.” Then a few weeks ago now an old-time tenant going back to 2008 called and moved out mid-June. “Son of a gun,” I said to myself. “Isn’t that ironic? We have a vacancy.” The next day I got a call. Someone needed a storage unit. They just moved in. Sometimes it works that way.

Years ago, I used some of my storage proceeds to buy the neighboring property. On it is an animal rescue kennel for dogs. It is run by a local group of professional women who call themselves BARK, for Build Another Rescue Kennel. They work with the fire department, police department, local dog groomers and veterinarians to take in, care for, and find homes for stray dogs. We have about 20 dogs on average. They also kennel dogs for locals on vacation.

That place is paid for and I’ve never raised their rent either. I also agree to pay or help pay for any capital improvements. If they will provide the labor, they can bill me for materials. We’ve added another row of enclosed pens across the back and redone the septic. I keep their rent low, provide them with a free storage unit and another at a discount.

In exchange, they take care of storage customers. They show units, collect deposits, sign contracts, provide envelopes, and so on. If there is a problem, they call me and I call Russ. Russ is an old retired guy in the Yerington area who kills my weeds and sweeps the blacktop driveways. He’s on call and I send him a few bucks for his time. He has the master door keys to the units and can rebuild doors like nobody’s business.

I handle all the phone calls and customer service issues. I take a little money to the bank. I drive up and spend the weekend in Reno and drive down to Yerington for the day to conduct necessary business. I try to get up there about six times a year. Now that we have reopened our family cabin in Tahoe, I’m much closer more often. It may be time to resurface the driveways again. The desert sands are brutal.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald for 25 years.

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