Okay, I’m putting this down in writing, because I need to admit my own mistake and accept it… and move on.
You remember the rental building I bought recently? The one with a 21% annualized return if I sell in 10 years? Well, I’m going to have to revise those numbers downward…
We had to leave CHF 30'000 on the table to fix a dumb mistake I should never have let slip through… but hey, you’re always smarter after the fact…
The CHF 30'000 mistake I should never have let slip through
Basically, a few months ago, after a big hailstorm rolled through, we noticed a small cornice on the roof that wasn’t properly sealed.
Without a second thought, I called in a pro to look at what we could do to seal that gap, without gold-plating it either, since it’s a hidden spot. He came by and offered me a solution that felt a bit shaky, a bit too slapdash, let’s say…
So I brought in a second contractor, a bit more serious (and pricier), to get another opinion and quote.
“How old is your roof?”… the real diagnosis
And then… a rude awakening…
He climbed up under the roof frame like the first guy, but looked a bit more closely at the state of the roofing on one of the slopes.
And he said: “Hmmmm… how old is this part of your roof? Because your tiles are starting to get really porous here… you should think about redoing all of this, if you ask me…”
Ouch…!
Like any real estate investor, I asked him for a ballpark figure for the work.
His answer: “Somewhere between 20 and 30 grand, probably, since your beams are sound. It’s really the tiles on this section that worry me… especially if you get another round of hail or torrential rain, it could leak in spots and cause bigger damage to the building.”
Second ouch!!
The misunderstanding over the word “roof”
For context, I’d known the seller for a long time. And when we visited for the purchase, I’d obviously brought my checklist (the famous 38-point one from my rental real estate program) and asked about the state of the roof.
So the seller called his usual roof-framing contractor (a well-known one, who I know myself too), who confirmed it was in great shape and would easily last another few decades. Except we were talking about two different things… them, “roof” as in the frame, the beams and the structure of the roof, and me, “roof” as in everything included, tiles and all…
I honestly can’t remember whether I said “roof” myself, or “frame,” when I first asked the question…
But anyway…
All of this meant we started the work sooner rather than later, so we wouldn’t run into any water infiltration issues that would cost us even more.
Bottom line: 30k of unexpected costs to cough up, and it stings. In terms of annualized return (selling in 10 years), we’re going from 21% to… nah wait, I still can’t bring myself to write it…
The mental trap: convincing myself I hadn’t really lost that much
Up until now, I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad, that those 30k of work weren’t really “lost”…
I’m redoing part of the roof, so I’m increasing the value of the building, right? So I Googled how much I could bump up the building’s value after a roof renovation, to update it in my YNAB. The answer: you can add at most 50% of the roof work’s value to your building’s value.
My brain loved this version of the story. So much cleaner. So much more reassuring.
Except… that’s exactly where my brain was feeding me nonsense. 🙃
Because yes, the work adds 50% of its value to the building. BUT. If the roof already needed redoing at the time of purchase, then those 30k, I should have deducted them from my purchase price. I should have bought the building with that reality baked into the price. Instead, I’m paying them on top, over and above the price I already paid. That’s not creating value, it’s just me catching up on something I should have seen coming.
And mathematically, that means one thing: my famous annualized return (selling in 10 years) doesn’t go from 21% to “eh, it’s the same thanks to the added value.” It goes from 21% to 18%. Period.
Ugh……
And you know what the hardest part is?
It’s not so much the 30k. It’s admitting that for a few weeks, I lied to myself with a nice little story so I wouldn’t have to look at the real number head-on. My brain preferred the comforting fiction over the honest Excel sheet. And for a blogger who spends his life talking about financial rationality… it’s the ego that takes the hit, not just my net worth…
The lesson: check the big items yourself in real estate
The only person you can really count on to check the important stuff, in real estate as in life, is you. You, you, and you again. Nobody will defend your interests as well as you will.
The seller acted in good faith. His roof-framing contractor (who I know and respect) acted in good faith. My checklist was solid. And yet I still messed up, simply because we were talking about two different things behind the same word “roof.” Them: the structure, the beams. Me: everything, tiles included.
Nobody lied (I’d like to believe).
And that’s the trap: you don’t need anyone to lie to you to get burned. All it takes is a misunderstanding that nobody takes the time to clear up, especially with such a long checklist, and all the stress that comes with buying a rental building.
So now, my rule is set in stone: on the big items (roof, structure, heating, facade, moisture), I NEVER settle for a verbal “yeah, it’s fine.” I’m even more precise with my terminology, and I bring in my own expert, independent, paid by me, before signing (oh, and I climb up there with him, too ;)). So a word to the wise: really check for yourself, especially when a five-figure sum is on the line.
This lesson will have cost me 30k. And yeah, life is one long series of lessons right up until the day we die, but this one costs a bit too much for my taste. I hope it costs you 0! 😉
And you, what was your “roof moment”? That one thing you didn’t dig into enough before signing, and that ended up costing you afterward? I’m curious to hear it (and it’ll make me feel a little better 😅).
Last updated: July 9, 2026