There was a person living on the eleven acres I bought, which I learned at closing
I was buying the land. Eleven acres, decent road frontage, the kind of parcel I sit on and don't touch for a decade. There was a house on the corner of it, a small one, and in my head it was a shed with plumbing. The listing said "improvements" and I read that as a problem to demolish someday.
At the closing table the seller mentioned, in the same tone you'd mention a mailbox, that his cousin Ray had been living in that house since around 2016. Paying four hundred a month, cash, sometimes. No lease. No deposit. Nothing in writing anywhere.
I'd asked for a rent roll on a land deal exactly zero times, because why would I. So I signed and then drove out there with no plan.
Ray was on the porch. Sixties, worked at a feed store for a long time, has a dog with one ear. He assumed I was there to throw him out and said so before I got out of the truck. I said I wasn't, mostly because I hadn't thought that far.
We sat there about an hour. The house is 900 square feet, two bedrooms, a well and a septic system I now also own. It's tighter than it looks from the road. Ray had put a metal roof on it himself in 2019 and the seller had never paid him back for the materials.
We ended up with a written lease at 750, which is under what the area gets, and I ate the roof money by knocking it down for the first eight months. He pays on the first now, by check, and he mows the front three acres because he likes doing it.
So my patient land hold has a tenant. I own a septic system. I did not plan any of this and it's the only part of that parcel making a dollar.