My husband and I bought a storage-unit business. The customers can be difficult, but it pays for my daughter's college.
Courtesy of Lauren Trippeer
- I bought a storage unit business with my husband because we couldn't afford my daughter's college.
- The business is nothing like I expected, and the customers can be difficult.
- Thankfully, the business pays for itself and for our daughter's college tuition.
The good news is that I have a new pizza oven. The bad news is that it's bigger than my kitchen and weighs a ton.
It belonged to a restaurant owner who closed up shop, moved his equipment into a space at my storage-unit business, and then relocated to Eastern Europe. Before he left, he canceled his credit card payment.
A friend advised me to auction the pizza oven off. But my business is in a rural area, and no one here wants my oversized oven. In fact, I contacted every restaurant within a 40-mile radius offering this behemoth for free. I even called the local senior center and some churches just in case they wanted to add pizza production to their service offerings. No takers.
This is just one of the problems I now face as the unlikely owner of a storage-unit business.
We bought the business to pay for college tuition
When our daughter, Lauren, was born, my husband and I started a savings account to finance her college education. It's a great idea on paper, but by the time she was in middle school, we realized our efforts had been mostly thwarted by life's unexpected financial emergencies. Our savings would barely cover one year of college and then would be gone.
At a family meeting, we decided that instead of taking on student loans, we'd rather go into debt buying a business that would generate cash flow.
We found a fixer-upper mini storage business for sale and used Lauren's college savings as seed money to make the down payment. We paid $325,000, and it was a huge risk.
Owning a storage unit business isn't always easy
Before we bought the business, I assumed people would store their stuff, pay their rental fees, and eventually move on. I visualized a cycle of mostly passive income with the occasional hiccup that comes with any entrepreneurial project. I doubted that I'd get to know my customers because we wouldn't have much interaction.
Reality has been different. My phone number is posted on the side of a building. When people call about renting a unit, I'm the one who answers. I've learned that moving in or out of a storage facility often coincides with a life-changing event. People tell me their stories. They start new businesses and need space to store supplies. Spouses die, and survivors want to hold on to precious keepsakes. Moms get fed up with overflowing closets and want an orderly household. Renters get evicted and need to store furniture until they figure out a housing solution.
One man called in a panic. His U-Haul was full, and he wanted to unload it immediately. An hour later, after he dumped his mess and locked the door, he told me he was a landlord and that his tenant hadn't paid rent in a year. Courts had just given him possession of his property, but he was still required to store his tenant's possessions for a certain period of time. A month later, when his bill was due, he told me he wouldn't pay.
"Contact my tenant," he said. The tenant told me she didn't want the stuff either. Since my husband was out of town, Lauren and I shoveled out the unit — half-eaten pop tarts, soiled diapers, and wet laundry, along with every conceivable household item. We donated what was salvageable and took the rest to the landfill.
I also talk with customers when they can't pay their bills. One customer calls monthly to ask for extensions, and during our conversations, we've gotten to know each other. I learned he was feeding a colony of feral cats, and the expense of all that food was bankrupting him. Another customer called after he moved across the country. He said it didn't make sense to come back to California just to retrieve "that old junk." But then he told me that his mom's ashes were in his unit and started to cry.
Sometimes, I talk people out of renting units. One potential customer had just split up with her boyfriend, and as I explained the cost of renting storage space, I sensed her reluctance. She was worried about money. "Are you sure you want this space?" I asked. "What if you had a garage sale instead?"
"That's a great idea," she said. And just like that, I lost a customer.
Though it's difficult, the business makes financial sense for us
Owning a mini storage business has been more interesting and challenging than I thought it would be.
So far, the income the business generates covers all its expenses and just enough to pay for college. It's enabled my family to pay for our daughter's college expenses without going into debt, and I've learned interesting lessons about business and humanity.
And if I ever need a fallback plan, it's given me a perfect leg up to start a pizzeria.