Today’s Latest Scam: Homestead Protection

Don't drink the Kool-Aid. In particular, don't drink the Kool-Aid of incorrectly using the phrase "drinking the Kool-Aid". The stuff above is what those people drank in Guyana, yet for some reason the company managed to deflect all the bad PR to someone else.

Buy a house, rework your mortgage, or even apply for a loan and within days you’ll start receiving the kind of junk mail that usually warrants a second look – full of businesslike bold fonts, maybe even in red:

YOU COULD LOSE YOUR HOME IF YOU DON’T ACT IMMEDIATELY!

Sometimes the sender will go to the trouble of printing on the envelope the punishment prescribed in the United States Code for anyone but the addressee opening the letter. This lets you know that the sender means business. You open the letter and it tells you (in language much more ominous than our paraphrasing) that since you’re now a homeowner, or a potential homeowner, you could rejoin the unfortunate ranks of the renters once again with one simple legal slip-up. If someone sues you – too regular an occurrence in a society that’s now descended from litigious to ultralitigious – and should that plaintiff win a large enough amount, you could be forced to sell your house to pay the judgment. So what size barrel do you wear?

Therefore, you should immediately spend $95 or $150 with the homestead registration company that altruistically informed you of the precarious position that you’re now in.

It’s technically true that your home might be at risk, but this remains about the biggest scam this side of recommended rustproofing on a factory-new vehicle.

Simply put, here’s the extremely common situation that these companies try to exploit:

You buy a house. Regardless of how many houses or other pieces of real estate you own at a given time, one of them has the legal status of being your primary residence. Should you ever lose a court ruling and end up owing more than you can pay, whoever sued you could legally take your keys and march on in.

Except they can’t. There’s something called a homestead exemption that protects your house no matter what. Regardless of how much you owe, the legal principle that you’re entitled to quiet enjoyment of your home takes precedence over just about everything. Even Bernie Madoff got to keep his Park Avenue apartment, or would have if he hadn’t signed a 150-year lease to move to this idyllic setting in Granville County, North Carolina.

But if you own a house, you probably already have an automatic homestead that covers any danger. You don’t have to fill out any paperwork. If you can prove that the residence is indeed your primary one – which shouldn’t be too difficult – the most bellicose lawyer on the planet can’t touch it.

How come I didn’t know this?

Why would you? Who bothers to advertise it? Twisting up a Glad lawn & leaf bag over your fingers is the best way to safely remove a broken light bulb’s Edison screw from its socket, but that particular feature isn’t listed on the package.

So I can go around incurring debts, scamming people, spending money foolishly and daring people to sue me, knowing full well that my home is impervious to their lawyers’ petty threats?

Don’t go crazy. Somewhat obviously, if your house gets foreclosed on you don’t get to stay in it, even if you have nowhere else to go. The IRS will gladly take your house, too, maybe even just for sport. So pay your federal taxes.

If you declare bankruptcy, you also cede your homestead exemption in some instances, although there isn’t a bankruptcy judge in the nation who will kick you out on the street.

But pay your child support and alimony, you deadbeat. You also need to pay any mechanic’s lien, which is a legal term that refers to services rendered by a contractor that you never bothered paying for and that the contractor formally fought to recover. (That’s largely theoretical, mind you. It’s hard to imagine an unpaid driveway paving bill being large enough to force you to liquidate your house, or a homeowner being stubborn enough to refuse to pay and thus risk losing his house.)

It’s mostly general creditor claims that a homestead declaration protects you against. Unpaid medical bills, credit card debt, and other stuff you would never have incurred in the first place had you read Control Your Cash: Making Money Make Sense. However, there’s nothing in the book about how to fight off lawsuits, which you can’t control.

Also, vacation homes aren’t eligible for homestead exemptions – unless you want to start living in yours 183 days a year, and somehow do so retroactively, which would turn your primary residence into your secondary residence.

Is there any set of circumstances under which I should register my homestead?

Yes. For 6 months after you sell your house, if you can feel creditors breathing down your neck. If for whatever reason you’ve sold your house and haven’t yet bought a new one, your creditors can’t go after the cash proceeds from the sale.

It costs almost nothing to do this. Maybe a $15 filing fee, that’s it.

Of course, chances are pretty good that no one’s suing you for enough that you’d risk losing your house anyway. But because many people overestimate the risk of this happening, and therefore panic, that’s how homestead protection companies find their market of suckers.

One last thing: most states set a limit on the amount you can protect. $550,000 is standard.

But say you’ve reached the point in life where you’re sufficiently accomplished to have paid off your mortgage and have $551,000 in equity cooling in your house, even after the market falls. Yes, if anyone gets a judgment against you you’d conceivably have to sell your house.

Of course, if you’re this successful then you’ve already created an LLC or S corporation to anticipate this eventuality and protect yourself, right? (We could link to any one 20 guest posts we’ve written on this. Here’s a random one.)

**This article is featured in the Carnival of Wealth #34**

Buying a vacation home on a teacher’s salary

Investing, Create wealth, control your cash, retirement planning

It’s at your vacation home, you whining harpy. (By the way, this picture was taken in Florida. Miami, to be precise. On February 11. A school day.

As philistines and libertarians, we make it a point never to listen to NPR nor watch PBS (why would we, they don’t broadcast football.) Unless, of course, NPR runs a story on a college classmate of ours. Especially with such an auspicious introductory line:

There are wealthy Canadians buying multimillion-dollar beachfront homes. And there are people like “Kirk”, who recently bought a 2-bedroom condo in Fort Myers, Fla., sight unseen.

Kirk is the high school teacher in question, and it’s not as if he retired from a lucrative career in personal finance before switching careers. He paid $56,000 for the condo, which sounds like a price out of the 1970s.

The NPR interviewer didn’t ask him how he afforded a vacation home on a teacher’s salary, especially with a couple of kids to feed. Nor did NPR ask him how he ever managed to date Khyrstine Thibeault, the hottest girl on campus, despite being neither a jock nor a rich kid nor remarkably good-looking. That’s where Control Your Cash came in. Kirk elaborates:

We went on vacation to Fort Myers Beach about 3 years ago, but I knew the price was cheaper inland than it was near the Gulf. We actually didn’t stay near this particular unit at all.

We bought the unit in early May and then we saw it in late August. We bought through Florida Home Finders of Canada in Brampton, Ontario. I saw pictures of the unit, went online to see what the area was like, what units were going for, etc. We didn’t use, or need, an appraiser or home inspector because FHFC had done all the legwork.

I borrowed C$50,000. I had $10,000 from a condo sale that went sour in Whitby, Ontario. With the Canadian dollar at U.S. 96¢ the Fort Myers condo was a shade under C$60,000.

 

By go sour, he means that the condo company went out of business and he got his down payment back.

I paid for it with a home equity loan over 25 years. I think it was 3½% or 4%. I wanted to keep it separate from the mortgage on my primary residence in Canada, just in case we do a home renovation. (If we do,) then I will extend my mortgage.

 

If you’re thinking about a big purchase like this, especially if it involves big financing like this, understand that a 3½% mortgage and a 4% mortgage aren’t interchangeable. You don’t just round the number to the nearest integer and hope for the best. If the interest rate on this home equity loan is 4%, Kirk would be paying $263.92 monthly. Which is $79,175.53 over the course of the loan. If it’s 3½%, he’d be paying $250.31 monthly, or $75,093.54. Or $4.081.99 less over the course of the loan.

I have an off-site property management company that guarantees me a renter and takes 8%. Every month they rent it out for $792, and deposit my share of that in my bank account. The homeowners association takes their $273 (Editor’s note: holy crap) and then I’m left with about 470ish a month. ($455.64, by our calculations.) I pay $122 on my loan every 2 months, (sic, he means weeks) so I guess I’m ahead about $200 every 2 months (not sure what he means here, but we think it’s “every month”. See below). My tax bill was just under $1000 at the end of the year. Tax time is coming up, I’m not sure what to expect there.

Our take? This condo was a sufficiently smoking deal that Kirk will still profit from despite making a couple of mistakes.

Here are a few tips if you fancy yourself a low-level land baron:

1. Know your numbers. Nothing’s more important than this.

Kirk had only a hazy idea of his interest rate. A 50-basis point difference is huge. His low estimate is 1/8 less than his high estimate.
Assuming the higher estimate, he nets a pre-tax $205.33 monthly. Hopefully a) it’s a fixed-rate mortgage and b) Kirk knows that it is.

2. This doesn’t necessarily apply to Kirk, but know your terms, too. If you don’t, ask someone. Keep asking people until the answer is no longer ambiguous. We know of one 40-something apartment dweller who was ready to “send some guys over” to deal physically with her old landlord. Why? Because she had been on a lease option, which works like a regular rental arrangement for a fixed term. At the end of the term the renter has the option to buy the place.

She had never heard the term before, and assumed that it meant her monthly payments were going toward eventual ownership of the condo, like an ordinary mortgage. No, those monthly payments were going to pay her landlord’s mortgage. Her lease expired and she had neither the tens of thousands of dollars on hand, nor financing in lieu, to buy the place. She had been nothing more than a renter, and didn’t even realize it.

(Editor’s Note: Therefore, a lease option is a wonderful thing to be on the other side of. Worst-case scenario, you sell your property for a price you already agreed to, all the while having had your mortgage payments taken care of by the renter. Better-case scenario, the lease term expires, the renter can’t afford to exercise the option and you get to keep owning the place. There’s an excellent chance of that happening. There’s a reason why most renters are renting, and that reason is fiscal indiscipline.)

Assuming Kirk’s numbers are consistent, more than 40% of his net condo revenue goes to taxes. Still, if he’s “getting paid” $1400 a year to own a modest vacation home, there are worse places for him to have put that home equity loan.

**This article is featured in the Yakezie Carnival: The Chuck Norris Edition**

**This popular article is also featured at the Baby Boomers Blog Carnival Eighty-Eighth Edition**

5.3 billion birds in the hand

A bird in the hand

We had the hardest time keeping the little freak still for the picture

Is the ability to recognize opportunities a characteristic from birth, or a teachable skill?

Most of us miss out on most opportunities, by definition. Otherwise we all would have sold our houses in 2008, invested the proceeds in Cost Plus stock, then bought the houses back this fall for pennies on the dollar. You didn’t, which is why you’re still reading personal finance articles and trying to make sense of the world.

Are you familiar with Groupon? Not a ridiculous question – we asked a fairly with-it 24-year old woman about it the other day. She’d never heard of it. The company’s clever name gives you a hint as to how it works. You enter your location at Groupon.com. Every day, in every city Groupon serves, the company pairs with a local retailer to offer a limited-time deal. This isn’t 10¢ off a jar of lemon curd, either. Current Groupon deals include $49 for a 1-hour facial, $10 off a ticket to a Stanford University basketball game, $50 of food at the Pewter Rose Bistro in Charlotte, NC for $25, etc. The catch is that a certain number of people have to sign on or the deal won’t go into effect. (That number is posted for each deal, along with the number of remaining people needed to activate the deal.)

The mutual benefit here is obvious. Customers save money if enough of them exist to activate the coupon, but lose nothing if there aren’t (membership is free for both customers and businesses.) Meanwhile, the merchant gets guaranteed customers who went out of their way to show an interest in buying the product. If too few people sign up to activate the deal, the merchant loses nothing (and gains information – either “we need to offer a sweeter deal” or “what we’re selling is so bad that no one’s interested.”) Groupon keeps half the coupon revenue.

Like Twitter and eBay, Groupon is the kind of enterprise that makes a rational person kick himself for not thinking of the idea first. The website is sleek, informative, and easily navigable, particularly on a phone. Even the descriptions of the deals are entertaining to read – a staff of moonlighting comedy writers and stand-up comics creates them. Groupon started a little over 2 years ago in Chicago, offering discounted pizzas at one particular joint. Today, the company has 35 million members in 250 cities on 4 continents. It employs 3,000 people, most of them in sales. When the venture capitalists came calling, Groupon management stood at attention. Liberal estimates say the company will take in $350 million this year. It’s hard to imagine that Groupon’s expenses are more than a tiny fraction of that. Back in April – 1/3 of Groupon’s life ago – the company was making $1 million weekly. Groupon founder Andrew Mason has lofty ideas – he claims that he wants to do for local businesses what Amazon did for online retail.

Mason might be a visionary, but his business acumen is curious. A few weeks ago, Google offered $5.3 billion (excluding incentives) for Groupon. That’s about what Sirius XM is worth, but Groupon makes money. Whether the Google offer was in cash or Google’s resilient stock, Mason and his partners could have gotten ultra-rich faster than just about anyone in the history of commerce.

Mason turned Google down, because he’s insane.

Groupon is a great idea, and one that’s easy to copy – just ask LivingSocial, CrowdSavings, Tippr or one of Groupon’s hundreds of other new competitors. LivingSocial already has almost as many visitors as Groupon, with a website that’s hard to distinguish from Groupon’s at times. Groupon didn’t just get big quickly: it reached its perihelion shortly thereafter. Sure, there are millions of non-members to convert, but why should they patronize Groupon when its competitors are offering the same thing free? The competitors are increasing exponentially while the potential customer base grows arithmetically. It’s a Malthusian problem for a different century, only this one doesn’t involve cannibalism and starving orphans. Besides, how many discounted spa treatments can the world handle? (Groupon’s clientele is overwhelmingly 30ish and female.)

Mason’s strategy, at least as he tells it, is to do an initial public offering and turn his company over to ordinary investors by 2014. By which time we’ll have discount-searching polycarbonate chips implanted in our heads. Seriously, at the rate the number of his competitors is growing, Mason could have 2000 Groupon knockoffs to contend with by then. The greater the dilution, the less interest Google or anyone else will have in Groupon’s targeted customer information. Groupon management let a winning lottery ticket expire in the name of future aspirations. The iron is almost cool to the touch as this point, and Mason still isn’t striking it. Check back in a few months when another potential suitor makes a low-9-digit offer for Groupon. If that.

And if someone offers you what seems like a ridiculously high price for something, don’t double down on your own good fortune. Take the freaking money.

**This post is featured in the inaugural edition of Totally Money Carnival**