The Airbnb app makes it possible to set a price, upload your home to complete strangers worldwide, and take bookings within 11 minutes of first whim. That’s what happened two months after our three-bed 1958 semi-D in Dublin’s non-illustrious northside underwent a full SEAI Warmer Homes Scheme upgrade in July 2023. Prior to listing our spare double bedroom, the house had original iron windows that invited the wind to tea, had zero insulation – including in the attic – and a dated central heating system that was barely noticeable at full-blast output. It went from a G-rated Ber to a C1 overnight. “Make money while you sleep!” one friend proclaimed on the subject of renting out the room. It seemed a better alternative to having someone share your space as a “flatmate” full-time or for chunks of the year.
I had to break it to my partner when she returned home from a lunchtime poetry book launch. “I put the spare room up on Airbnb and we’ve got bookings already!” I listed 59 amenities including sun loungers, washing machine and dryer, wifi, wine glasses, toiletries, outdoor furniture, luggage drop-off. In fact, punters could scale the amenities alphabetically: bed linen, blender, board games, body soap, books ... hair dryer, hammock, hangers, heating, hot water. All the relevant sections were filled in super quickly in tick-box fashion. I half expected a call from Airbnb once the listing went live. In reality, it was no different to setting up a social media account, with no additional info needed.
There is a lot of data required from hosts versus what hosts are allowed to know about guests, such as pricing (including weekly or monthly discounts, promotions, additional charges), general availability, accessibility, house rules and guest safety (smoke alarm, carbon monoxide alarm, stairs to room, interaction with pets). We chose a “flexible” cancellation policy as we thought it showed a level of tolerance; guests could get a full refund if they cancelled five days before they were due to check in.
Under “interaction with guests” we specified “we keep to ourselves as we work from home ...” but were happy to answer questions. We opted for a complimentary cooked breakfast with examples in our automated welcome note. I set up more “quick replies” notes on topics including: places to eat near us, dietary requirements, directions from airport, city pubs for Irish music and great Guinness, etc. Eleven easy “one-click” messages that should answer everything a guest might need to know.
From enchanted forests to winter wonderlands: 12 Christmas experiences to try around Ireland
Hidden by One Society restaurant review: Delightful Dublin neighbourhood spot with tasty food and keen prices
Gladiator II review: Don’t blame Paul Mescal but there’s no good reason for this jumbled sequel to exist
Despite covering absolutely everything we could think of, there was a lot of lessons learned on the hoof:
1. Check out guests in advance
Even if you turn off “instant book” and opt for personal contact before a booking is confirmed, guest reviews can only tell you so much. As two women living alone we agreed to only accept couples or two women and skip lone males. Our first guest was new to Airbnb so had zero reviews. Despite our check-in time being 3pm and after, we had no cap on late check-ins. He told us he’d be in situ by 11pm but instead arrived at 1.40am and turned out to be a top shagger.
By contrast the next two in, with lots of five-star reviews, were great to deal with. They’d hiked around Ireland for a week and just wanted to relax on their last night, near the airport. They asked to use our kitchen and kept to themselves. Due to GDPR, hosts only find out additional information (photo etc) about a guest after a booking is accepted/confirmed and even then it takes some micro-translating to read through the subtle hints in host reviews.
2. One-night stays are difficult
People arrive in Dublin for a long holiday and you’re their first port of call for 24 hours. Very few people actually read the guidebook where all the hard-earned information is stored. If choosing to stay with a host, guests expect some level of interaction. They ignore boundaries set out in advance. And they are less likely to leave a review.
The app allows for various timespans of advance notice needed before guests are due to arrive: same day, at least one day’s notice, two days, three days, seven days. However, “preparation time” is limited to “none” or “one night before and after each reservation” or “two nights before and after each reservation”. We decided “none” was the only option that didn’t block future bookings or restrict the calendar. By choosing this option it meant very soon there was a glut of back-to-back bookings, putting huge stress on clean-ups, room flip, bedclothes washing and personal time, and this became tiring. It’d be a canny idea to introduce a minimum of one day after each booking instead of before and after.
[ What’s happening to Airbnb and holiday lets?Opens in new window ]
After a few months we changed our booking preferences to “two nights or more”. We also found it attracted better behaved people who had a plan about how they’d like to spend their time in Dublin and would be out of the house mostly, putting less pressure on us. Next year we’re thinking we might limit bookings to weekends only in quieter periods and three nights or more for busier summer months.
3. Charge for extra services
Mostly guests don’t bother buying a visitor’s Leap Card on arrival and we offered use of a resident’s card instead. Some guests used it without topping it up. I only learned six months in that you can add charges to an agreed stay via a “send or request money” option in the payment breakdown.
4. Limit breakfast options
We wanted to offer something more substantial and magical than a two-day old croissant wrapped in plastic and a stale coffee pod, but a full menu was unworkable. After a few weeks of mostly two people ordering two different breakfasts, we limited it to: “this is the hot option for tomorrow or you can have a continental breakfast instead”. A lot of guests have very specific dietary requirements: gluten free, lactose free, sugar free, vegetarian, vegan and so on, and if you offer a cooked option you will have to deal with the inevitable variation that fads and allergies bring. It’s simpler to offer toast, tea/coffee, yoghurt or nothing at all. However, our decent breakfasts have landed us some stellar reviews, which automatically attracted more business.
5. Set personal boundaries early on
We’ve met some really great people in the last year. We’ve also met some strange ones. The house is colourful and we’re open about working in the arts, which we think attracts more gregarious people. There was an indie-pop singer who lured her boyfriend over to break up with him in the room, an unwanted drama. I had to make up a bed for her on the couch and drive him (crying) to the airport the next morning at 6am. Not ideal.
There was also someone who spent four nights telling me about their sessions with a psychiatrist. They thought I’d be “understanding” because I had put “partially psychic” as my “most useless skill” on my personal bio. I deleted that joke as soon as he left.
We had two sisters who insisted we call the Bord Gáis emergency services because the radiator was too hot. And two retired engineers who assumed booking with us meant having all of our attention: including phoning to know why their bus hadn’t turned up on time on O’Connell Street and WhatsApping from a day-trip to complain about the traffic in Belfast.
[ Renting out a room: ‘I feel safer at night having someone else in the house’Opens in new window ]
Really, nothing can prepare you for the peculiarities of human nature and if you’re welcoming people into a home with shared spaces, you need to be mentally prepared. We’ve also met and made genuine friends, received invites to all corners of the planet, have shared meals, had great laughs, made memories and collected fantastic stories: from a man who used to show chickens competitively, for example.
6. Play the calendar and choose a realistic cancellation policy
After several cancellations very late (one was on the morning before St Patrick’s Day, they landed in Dublin and decided on somewhere more central, cancelling us on the busiest few days of the year), we upped ours to “moderate”, then “strict” and for a while “firm”. We’ve learned along the way that it helps to pay attention to large-scale concerts, sports events and any other highlights on the annual calendar.
7. Tax and finding it taxing
In one year we’ve dealt with 82 bookings and had 156 people stay in our home. It was a huge amount of work and mentally taxing, as well as personally rewarding. It’s also fully taxable, unlike renting the same room to a student for half of the achievable monthly fee (tax-free), while getting on with our own work. The “earnings” info revealed that some months we earned €2,100 for a double room that would probably rent out at a maximum of €800 to a tenant full-time or for a student year. There was an element of guilt to that but it’s our home, and it’s not as if we have multiple units at our disposal to rent out, or a second “spare” property.
8. Leave honest reviews
Guests have 14 days to leave a review and will only see your review when they leave one for you. Not everyone will leave a review and that’s fine. Someone bought us designer egg-cups instead of writing a review and a very old man in bad health hugged me and said, “God bless you for the best time I’ve had in Ireland!” and that was good enough. However, pay attention to guests’ review before they book; giveaway phrases like “very chatty” (ie annoying) or those who are overtly demanding or catty. I found it hard to criticise anyone where it might affect their ability to book with future hosts. There is a back-end “Would you recommend this guest?” question in the final feedback window that doesn’t seem to get published anywhere, and maybe that’s your only real chance to make contact with the Wizard of Oz Airbnb boss behind the elusive curtain.
June Caldwell is the author of the short-story collection, Room Little Darker.
