Oh, you want to be a landlord?
You watched two YouTube videos, read half a book called Passive Income for Winners, and now you think you’re the next property mogul. You’ve already made a spreadsheet, named your future tenants, maybe even started practicing your “I’m a real estate investor” smile in the mirror.
I’ve been a landlord for 17 years. Seventeen long, character-building years. Which basically means I’ve spent nearly two decades being a therapist, plumber, debt collector, and part-time priest for people who swear they’ll catch up on rent next week.
You think you’re buying freedom, but what you’re actually buying is a lifetime subscription to stress. Every leaky pipe, every accidental hole in the wall, every text that starts with “Hey, quick question…” that’s your new reality. The money doesn’t flow in while you sip espresso; it flows out while you argue over who broke the bloody washing machine.
Still convinced you’re built for this? Beautiful. Let’s strip away the fantasy and see what really happens when you trade your peace of mind for rental income.
The Shiny Version
In your fantasy, it all starts perfectly. You find “the one” the charming little flat in a great location, low maintenance, high yield, basically screaming passive income. You walk around it with that smug grin of someone who’s convinced they just outsmarted capitalism.
You even decorate the place like you’d live there yourself. Fresh paint, cozy lights, maybe a cute little plant. You tell yourself, People will feel at home here. Because they will, they’ll feel so at home they’ll stop paying rent and dare you to make them leave.
Then comes your masterpiece: the spreadsheet.
Your Excel file, oh, it’s beautiful. Color-coded tabs, tidy formulas, perfectly named columns like ‘Net Monthly Cash Flow’ and ‘Projected ROI’. You stare at it like it’s your newborn child. You even add a little what if section showing how rich you’ll be in ten years.
You post your triumph on social media “First rental property! Building my passive income empire ” complete with a motivational caption you totally didn’t steal from Robert Kiyosaki. You feel unstoppable. You feel wise. You feel like you’ve transcended the 9 to 5 grind and joined the sacred order of real estate investors.
And why not? Everyone says real estate is the path to wealth, after all, around 90% of millionaires have real estate investments. What they don’t tell you is that most of them own entire buildings, not the single apartment you’re currently repainting in landlord beige.
It’s perfect.
It’s elegant.
It’s the most beautiful delusion you’ll ever create.
Because this Shiny Version of being a landlord the one where money flows, tenants behave, and bricks always appreciate, only exists in the imagination of people who’ve never met a plumber or a tenant named Dave.
Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts.
The boiler is about to explode.
The Bloody Version
Welcome to reality, landlord.
You thought you were buying a financial asset, turns out, you bought a full-time job with unpaid overtime and a soundtrack of dripping taps.
It starts small. A call at 10 p.m. about a tiny leak. You drive over. There’s water everywhere, the tenant looks at you like it’s your fault the planet has plumbing, and your Saturday night dies quietly inside your soul.
You tell yourself it’s just bad luck, until it happens again. And again.
Every text from your tenant becomes a small heart attack.
“Hey, quick question…” means something’s broken.
“Can we talk?” means they’re not paying.
And “Hope you’re well” means absolutely nothing good is coming next.
You thought tenants would be like you, clean, reasonable, financially literate adults.
Wrong. They’re a rotating cast of horror tropes.
You’ll meet The Ghost (vanishes when rent’s due), The Critic (emails you a list of design improvements), The Saint (perfect until they adopt three cats), and The Philosopher (What even is rent, really?).
Meanwhile, your beloved property is decaying faster than your optimism. That new flooring you installed? Gone. The “no smoking” policy? A suggestion, apparently. The bathroom tiles? They’ve seen things.
Then comes tax season, that magical time when you realise your government is your biggest tenant, except this one always gets paid on time. You’ll spend hours trying to figure out which of your expenses are deductible and which are just emotional trauma.
And then there’s your Excel. Remember that shiny spreadsheet you made at the start? The one with perfect green cells and tidy ROI formulas? It now bleeds red. One month of unpaid rent, one boiler that decided to die heroically, and suddenly your passive income looks like a charity project. The cash flow turns negative, the formulas don’t lie, and you find yourself whispering, Maybe next month will be better.
Maybe you think, I’ll just hire a management company, they’ll handle it.
Oh, sweet summer child. Property managers are like Tinder dates, they promise the world, take your money, and ghost you when it matters. They’ll collect their 15%, send you a cheerful email saying everything’s fine, and completely ignore the fact your tenant’s been subletting to a family of six and a lizard.
And let’s not forget the market. Remember 2008?
Everyone was a genius in 2007 landlords, flippers, dreamers. Then the music stopped, and suddenly your retirement plan was worth less than a second-hand fridge. Real estate always goes up… until it doesn’t.
You start to notice a pattern: your rent barely covers repairs, taxes eat your profit, and your tenants treat your investment like a community project. That passive income you bragged about? It’s now an active migraine.
At some point, you catch yourself staring at your property thinking, Maybe I should just burn it down and collect the insurance. That’s when you know you’ve become a real landlord. Congratulations, you’ve ascended.
The Alternatives: For Those Who Still Think They’re Built for Real Estate
So, after all this, you still think you’ve got what it takes to be a landlord. Impressive. Either you’re brave, stubborn, or just haven’t been paying attention.
If real estate still turns you on, fine. I get it. Bricks feel safe. Rent feels real. And owning property sounds sexier than buying an ETF. But before you dive headfirst into the circus and start dealing with your beloved tenants, know this: there are smarter ways to touch the real estate dream without getting clawed by it.
Start with REITs, Real Estate Investment Trusts.
They’re the no-drama version of property investing. You buy the shares, someone else deals with the tenants, the boilers, the leaks, and the late payments. You still get exposure to the property market, and you don’t have to Google how to fix a toilet at 2 a.m. That’s what I call leverage.
Or try real estate crowdfunding, basically, being a landlord with emotional distance. You chip in some cash with a few hundred other hopefuls, watch an update email once a quarter, and pretend you’re part of a grand development empire. When things go wrong, you don’t even have to lie awake worrying, someone else already is.
And if you still crave the hands-on chaos, there’s flipping, buy-to-rent, or rent-to-rent, just make sure you understand that hands-on means covered-in-paint, broke-by-Tuesday, and occasionally screaming-into-a-pillow.
So yes, property can make you money, but don’t mistake concrete for comfort.
If you’re going to do it, do it smart. Plan for broken stuff, lying tenants, and interest rates that don’t care about your dreams. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get to keep your sanity and your profit.
The Bloody Moral
Real estate looks glamorous from a distance, stable, predictable, noble even. Up close, it’s just stress with a title deed.
Being a landlord won’t make you rich overnight. It’ll make you older, angrier, and occasionally one plumbing bill away from tears. You’ll learn about property law, human psychology, and despair all for the price of passive income.
But hey, if after everything you’ve read, you still want to do it, then you just might have what it takes.
Or you’re about to find out why most landlords drink.
Either way, welcome to the club. The rent’s late, the boiler’s dead, and your tenant just texted call me when you can.
Congratulations, investor. You’re officially in real estate.
Keep reading, keep growing. BloodyFinance.
