Goodbye, Airbnb. Hello, My Brain
The excitement and lure of running a guest house for cash is ... way over
The email just popped into my queue. It’s from our lawyer’s assistant, Patty. I love Patty because she takes care of all the nitty gritty details of real estate transactions, and after several home purchases here in Saratoga over the past five years, she has finally sent an email telling us the opposite kind of news. The sale of our Saratoga Springs rental property is complete. I can go pick up the check.
I am starting this story about running a very busy Airbnb in the super-popular destination of downtown Saratoga Springs at the end. That seems unfair, because most of the story about being part of this real estate strata of short-term rentals is filled with plenty of high-flying decisions, emotions and scenarios — enough for a breathy short book or at least several vaguely interesting posts here. Stay tuned.
But today it ended. Or, actually, it ended one day in July, when I walked into the 3-bedroom/2-bathroom Airbnb which was dubbed “The Modern Farmhouse” (everyone needs a gimmick or a hook) and discovered that the alleged party of four people had used every single sheet and towel in the house.
Like, there was enough laundry to keep Maytag and LG in business for 10 years.
Everywhere I looked, there was laundry! All the beds had been used. The rollaway bed had been used. Couches had been used. Like, an army had descended on the house, which at most accommodates six guests.
And the secret army that had covertly turned their 4-person stay into at least a 10-person party was, apparently, a big fan of showering! Wet towels were everywhere. Draped on the towel racks, hanging over the shower door, piled on top of the washing machine.
As I walked through the empty house, which for the past four years had been a mostly exemplary model of Airbnb efficiency — with great guests leaving almost no trace of themselves — this time it was different. I felt burned and I felt lied to and I felt like — even though we have an incredible housekeeper whose help we could not have run the Airbnb with nearly the same level of outstanding cleanliness and customer satisfaction — I was done!
By the time I was back downstairs, trying to account for how many people had actually stayed during the alleged 4-person booking, I was livid. So livid that I had a 180-degree departure from my usual sense of gratitude for how running this cash-positive Airbnb by supplying guests with a cute and well-equipped home during ballet and concerts at SPAC and race track seasons and Skidmore College graduations and weddings and bridal showers and guys’ weekends alone.
I was so incensed that I did something I had never done before. I texted the woman who had booked the place and asked: How many people actually stayed here? She hemmed and hawed and said that yes, there were six people, not four, and apologized because she didn’t think it made that much difference. To which I said it actually DOES make a difference because the more people who stay, the more water, energy, towels, sheets and wear and tear goes down.
Still, I didn’t quite believe her that only six people had stayed for the weekend. There was too much LAUNDRY! And when I walked outside to the backyard, I was met with our neighbor, Richard, who is the Mayor of Biffer Alley and who we paid to do the lawn and handle the trash and watch over things.
Richard could tell I was not my usually cheery self. “What’s the matter,’’ he asked. I told him I was confused by what I saw inside, that only four people were booked but it looked like a much bigger group had stayed.
“Oh yeah, there was a lot more than six people there,’’ Richard said.
My jaw clenched.
“There was like eight kids on the back deck one night. They weren’t loud or anything, but there was definitely more than six people. In fact, they had like four car with them and they were over in the neighbor’s driveway. I had to go tell them to move their cars. The guy didn’t like it too much. He said ‘I just came to take a shower.’ So they had a bunch of people in and out,’’ Richard said.
It was at that point I picked up my phone and started texting the woman who booked for four guests again. “You said you were four people. Then you were six people. And now I am finding out you might have been eight or 10 people. You are the guest who is going to make me quit doing this. You are the guests who make me realize I don’t want to run a hotel anymore.’’
She texted back without any defensiveness. She accepted blame for going over her limit, but without ever fessing up to the exact number of people who had used our cute little Airbnb as a way station and public restroom or post-camping trip clean-up spot.
That was in mid July. We had dozens of bookings more to come for the rest of the summer and fall. Our little Airbnb was a very popular hub for Saratoga visitors, all who paid good money to have a convenient and comfortable place to call home for their night or weekend or week.
I gritted my teeth and vowed to make sure everyone who came next would have the stellar experience that we promised. Diane and I slogged through along with our housekeeper and kept the Modern Farmhouse tip top until …
Two weeks before Labor Day, with inflation rising and the housing market shifting fast, I made the call. It seemed like an epiphany because the decision came like lightning. We’re going to list the house and sell it. Now. But the decision had already been made. I was done in July.
The income and excitement and the novelty of being part of the new culture of hosting guests had worn off. Other reasons fed this change of heart, including the growing reality that Airbnb rentals were further eroding housing affordability and access in many markets, including Saratoga Springs. But that big batch of laundry that meant our little Modern Farmhouse had been covertly used as an army bunkhouse … over. Patty the lawyer’s assistant just called to confirm. Come get the check.
Laura handled the brunt of running the place and did an unbelievable job of handling the reservations, cancellations, housecleaners, lawn care, snow removal, etc. She had to deal with a lot of tedious detail without losing her mind. Well, until July. As we like to say, "It's almost over." And now, it is! Onto bigger and better things: Reading, traveling, and laying around like most people do!
We enjoyed our stay at the Urban Farmhouse, and are sorry to see it go. Reasons valid, more than valid. Bye bye Modern Farmhouse. You served your owners well.