They looked great on paper. Polite. Passionate about animals. Charming, even. They spoke kindly. Said they were grateful for the opportunity to live in my home and run their small business. They even told me my dog would always be welcome. On the surface, they seemed like ideal tenants — warm, responsible, committed. But behind that carefully crafted image was a very different reality. Rent wasn’t paid — not for weeks, then months. The property was used for purposes never agreed to. Requests were ignored. Agreements were broken. And when I finally asked them to pay what they To View More >>

People often say, “You poor thing—those tenants are terrible!” Because, regardless of how bad your tenants are—how dishonest, how manipulative, how brazenly criminal—they’ve been handed the ultimate weapon: a tenancy system that gives them time, sympathy, and loopholes, while landlords are left bleeding. They can stop paying rent for weeks or months. They can promise to leave, then change their minds at the last minute. They can use your home as a business, kennel, dump, or drug lab. And when you finally get to Tribunal—after jumping through every procedural To View More >>

They said OBie and I would always be welcome. They said they were grateful. They said a lot of things. Until I asked them to do one simple, reasonable thing: Pay the rent they had agreed to. From that moment on, I was no longer the kind, accommodating landlord who let them run a business from my home, live rent-free for weeks, and turn my property into their own kingdom. No — I became a “disgusting troll”, a “flea sucking the life out of everything”, and, my personal favourite, someone who was “acting in a drug-addled manner.” All because I asked them To View More >>

Ah, the joys of being a landlord in New Zealand. Where every week is a new episode of “You Just Can’t Make This Stuff Up.” Meet Crystal (no pun intended, but fitting, you’ll see why) and her boyfriend Dylan—young, sweet, and utterly clueless. They rented my house, and things were fine… until Uncle Meth moved in. Yep, turns out Uncle had a bit of a P habit, and soon enough, so did my house. I did the responsible thing: tested the property, confirmed contamination, and sadly had to ask Crystal and Dylan to leave. To their credit, they didn’t trash the place, To View More >>

Some tenancy disputes test your patience. Others test your faith in humanity. This one did both — and then some. It began simply enough. My commercial tenant, Honest Tom, a hardworking man who just wanted to get on with life and avoid unnecessary drama, sublet part of his rented property (with our blessing) — the office space, which was semi-liveable.  It had a kitchen area and toilet.  We later added a bathroom for his tenant. Enter Tallulah Twaddle: all smiles, stories, and the kind of creative imagination that should have earned her a spot writing fiction, not tenancy To View More >>