On the latest episode of HBO’s Last Week Tonight, Oliver ripped into this branch of the sharing economyresponsible. We were told that the big players in this space — Grubhub, DoorDash, Uber Eats, and Postmates — are “leeches” that “undermine” the business of brick-and-mortar restaurants. Oliver equated their use of gig workers to slavery.

It’s yet more silliness.

The first of Oliver’s claims to be challenged is the notion that food delivery apps are a “parasite” middleman in the eatery-to-consumer relationship. Is the delivery app taking something away from restaurants or adding new, previously unrealized value? A little bit of both. Here, Oliver is getting at the commission fees charged by delivery apps, which reserve anywhere from 13% to 40% of the final billing for themselves, depending on what the restaurant agrees to when it registers with the app. 

Restaurateurs do operate in a tough industry, and margins can indeed be slim, even as tight as 5% for most in the business. The apps argue that they not only serve as a logistics and delivery service but also as a discovery platform for consumers looking to get some food. Top line: An exhausted parent enjoying a night home alone and eating delivery food was never a prospective customer for the restaurants downtown. Their potential market on any given night is driven by foot traffic, search engines, and word of mouth. Their business is built around consumers who have specific plans to eat out that night and enjoy being waited on. 

Delivery apps change all of that, and yes, they are disruptive. Consumers on delivery apps are usually looking for something specific. They want pizza, Peking duck, tacos, or a hoagie. In turn, the apps present local options ranging from corporate fast-food chains to locally owned restaurants. Those eateries now have a new potential market. It’s important to note that these apps also helped save many restaurants that would have otherwise lost all their business during the COVID-19 shutdowns.

However, in Oliver’s eyes, something evil and corrupt is happening when a delivery service brings a new customer and essentially charges a finder’s fee for locating that new customer. I’m reminded of James Bond’s words to Miss Moneypenny in GoldenEye, “What would I do without you?” To which Moneypenny rightly replies, “As far as I can recall, you’ve never had me.”

Gone are the days of needing to pay for junk mail flyers and door-hang menu campaigns to reach the consumer. Third-party apps cover that base easily.

But Oliver shovels so much luddite mud in a cleanly delivered monologue that any possible critic would be daunted about where to start. One throwaway falsehood is that the sharing economy is “the main source of income for many,” which is hardly true. According to the IRS, as well as internal data from relevant companies, 96% of Lyft drivers work elsewhere or are students in addition to driving. Ninety percent of delivery drivers for DoorDash worked less than 10 hours per week on the app. Most are making ends meet and covering troublesome bills, not looking to build a career.

Oliver’s worldview contends that when consumers are reaping new benefits, the consumers are somehow propagating an injustice. But what is a more virtuous basis for a business than providing what the community and consumers want? 

Oliver is a millionaire who can dine out any night he wants, wherever he wants, and can make time for doing so since his economic needs are met. The rest of us use delivery apps to fill potholes in our plans or holes in our pans. We choose these apps in the same way we choose dine-in restaurants — when it works for us. 

Originally published here

Backyard pools across the Triangle are available for rent, advertised on the Swimply app as ‘Hidden Gem’, ‘Private Oasis’ and ‘Tropical Retreat.’

However, some hosts on the site are getting push back from local officials. The hosts are being told to stop operating as a “public pool” or face consequences.

There is no law in North Carolina governing backyard pool rentals specifically; but guidance from the Department of Health and Human Services says if you rent out your backyard pool, the pool is considered public.

Orange County said they were following that guidance when they sent a letter to Chris Paolucci telling him to stop operating the pool in his backyard as a public pool.

Paolucci is a Swimply host and has been renting his backyard pool to others who may not have pool access.

“It gives that opportunity for people without, and it gives us an opportunity to cover our costs,” Paolucci told 5 On Your Side.

Swimply works like other sharing apps Airbnb and Vrbo, but it’s just for pools and visitors can rent by the hour.

“Typical it’s like 2 to 5 people coming, small families,” Paolucci explained about his experience hosting on Swimply.

Paolucci said he was confused when he got the letter from Orange County. The letter said Paolucci needed to have a public pool plan review, a commercial grade pool and an operational permit from the county to keep operating as a public pool.

Read the full text here

There’s been a lot of talk lately about the potential demise of Airbnb. The homesharing platform deemed innovative by some, and a nuisance by others, has helped to define the public debate over sharing apps that have transformed downtowns nationwide with e-scooters, rented condos and the presence of Uber and Lyft cars on every street corner. Those local debates have been fierce in North Carolina metros, including Raleigh-Durham, Asheville, Wilmington and Charlotte, and have given way to a tenuous compromise in the state between tech companies, homeowners and established players in the hospitality and tourism industry.

But Airbnb’s steep revenue declines, close to 50% drops in Asheville, Myrtle Beach and Austin, show that regulation designed with only one technology in mind will make it harder to adapt as new tech emerges. Look no further than the troubles surrounding Swimply, a pool-sharing app not dissimilar in concept from Airbnb, which is causing a stir in Orange County.

Homeowners in the Chapel Hill-Hillsborough area were served with threatening letters from the Orange County Health Department (OCHD) for using Swimply to rent out their backyard pool by the hour to customers on the other end of the app. Does that transaction transform a homeowner’s private pool into a public pool? Here you see where common sense and regulatory policy don’t overlap.

The OCHD says in its letter, “When an owner or resident of a single-family dwelling opens use of that dwelling’s pool to the general public, especially for rent, they are explicitly expanding the use of the pool to users beyond the private use of the dwelling’s residents and their guests, and the pool is no longer private.”

This language implies that making money from the sharing of your pool is certainly problematic but also leaves room for it to be an issue if you were just opening your backyard gate to anyone looking to cool off for free.

Operating a party house or poolside hangout spot for college students won’t get you a Neighbor of the Year award, but it doesn’t mean you’re running a “public pool.”

The ill-fated argument put forward by Orange County is that a private pool becomes classified as a public one if it’s being rented out on a digital app like Swimply. So, a homeowner near UNC with a quiet, backyard pool that sees a few rental guests per week must then face the same level of code enforcement, chemical maintenance and property inspection as, say, Woodcroft Swim & Tennis Club in Durham, which sees hundreds if not thousands of swimmers a week. It’s ill-fated because this approach to regulation has been tried in other states, such as Wisconsin, where the Department of Health Services was set straight by the state’s Consumer Protection department after pushback from the pool, yard and tennis court sharing app.

Put simply, Swimply cannot be singled out for regulation just because they are not mentioned by name in state law for governing vacation rental properties. In principle, the business model and features of an app like this are covered by the allowances made for private property owners who’ve made use of Airbnb or other apps to generate supplemental income off their property.

An Airbnb host in Burlington could in theory offer their entire home for daily rental, including its amenities: kitchen, laundry, ping pong tables and an outdoor pool, with no interference. That property could see an equal number of guests per week as a Swimply listing, but the only difference is that the Airbnb guests would also be utilizing overnight accommodations in addition to a swimming pool.

Why would it be the business of public health regulators to police backyard swimming, but only for people who will be there for an hour or two as opposed to overnight? This is the question that regulators in Orange County have yet to contend with, and the issue remains unresolved at the expense of homeowners and sharing app users who want to enjoy private pool access during a summer that promises extreme heat statewide. Either the state of North Carolina believes in private property rights and a level playing field for innovation, or it doesn’t.

North Carolina has a workable framework in place for the sharing economy in the longstanding Vacation Rental Act, but it’s going to have to be either modified or supplemented by new legislation to add clarity for property owners and consumers alike who enjoy innovations in the sharing economy. Senate Bill 667 stands as one such piece of legislation that could bring an end to the harassment of North Carolina homeowners by misguided health department officials. The bill, championed by state Sen. Tim Moffitt (R-Henderson, Polk and Rutherford), would in essence preempt localities from banning short-term rentals or imposing onerous costs to listing private property.

No doubt, the measure presents a clash of values for its Republican backers, who on the one hand tend to favor local control as opposed to dictates from Raleigh about how towns should be managed. However, the competing value — that of property rights protected under state law — makes SB 667 a worthwhile consideration for conflicted lawmakers.

Whether it’s SB 667 or something new in a coming legislative session, the legislature owes North Carolinians clarity about their right to rent private property, whether it be backyards, pools, hot tubs, spare rooms or whole single-family homes.

Originally published here

Isn’t it cool when people blend their brilliant ideas with technology? Well, residents in Montgomery County, Maryland disagree and are voicing their concerns over private pools being rented out to strangers looking to beat the heat, by using the app Swimply.  Media Director for the Consumer Choice Center and Contributing Editor at The Washington Examiner Stephen Kent joins Kennedy to discuss the regulations the county will try to put in place to control the “pool Airbnb.”

Listen here

The sounds of summer are a thing of joy for most people. The birds, the splashing, dogs barking, and the neighborhood kids playing outside. Warmth and life return to the streets. But then there are places such as Montgomery County, Maryland . 

The Washington, D.C. , suburb and home to Chevy Chase, Gaithersburg, Rockville, and Takoma Park is a liberal stronghold within an already liberal region. It’s the kind of place where you can spot a progress pride flag in any direction and feel the welcoming presence of signs reading “No Human Is Illegal” every few yards. Of course, this won’t apply if you’re an “outsider” visiting a Montgomery County neighborhood with the hopes of swimming in a privately owned backyard pool.

A fast-growing app called Swimply has been causing a stir in communities nationwide, but most of all on the posh streets of Montgomery County, where residents are voicing anger and fear over private pools being rented out to strangers looking to beat the heat. It’s a “tremendous nuisance” that has “disturbed” residents and led them to call for a local crackdown on the service, which operates much like an Airbnb but for pools. The function of pool-sharing is simple in a world where app-based, short-term rental markets are now a mainstream idea.

Instead of consumers having to shell out $500 per season to access a private community pool, Swimply allows families and individuals to connect with homeowners who rent out their pools on an hourly basis. Rates average between $45 to $75 on Swimply. It’s a pretty good deal for everyone involved.

But then again, this is happening in a neighborhood that infamously sought to ban dogs from barking in 2019. The town of Chevy Chase naively thought it could drop $134,000 to turn a mud pit into a dog park without an outcry from residents, who similarly called it a “nuisance” bringing in outsiders to the neighborhood.

This language feels awfully coded for the 86.7% white suburb in a county where 60% of residents are Democrats and merely 14% are registered Republicans. It’s doubtful the worrisome outsiders they speak of in town meetings are similarly homogeneous. 

It’s understandable that some homeowners find it annoying when a pool party is being held next door. Thankfully, Montgomery County has tools already in place to help residents manage disturbances in their area, such as a web portal for submitting noise complaints. There’s also the bare minimum of neighborly behavior, which is verbal communication and conversation about community matters. The shortcut more often taken is to harangue town council members into banning these services in hopes of making innovations in the sharing economy go away. But they won’t.

That’s because none of this is new, thanks in large part to Airbnb’s success in advancing the commonsense idea that homeowners maintain the right to earn additional monthly income by sharing their property with others, if they so choose. Swimply will most likely win the right to equal protection under the short-term rental policies already in place for bigger players such as Airbnb.

The amenities being offered by Swimply, private pools and now pickleball courts, are already part of what an Airbnb user can enjoy when they rent out a whole property for a short stay. They can’t be denied to a Swimply user under a different set of arbitrary rules.

The wannabe regulators next door can’t decide on what the concern really is. In a letter to Councilman Will Jawando, 36 residents leaned on everything from noise and drownings to dog poop, strains on the sewer system, and, yes, the inherent racism of sharing economy apps as reasons to ban them. On paper, these “In This House We Believe” types aren’t anxious about visiting renters from the inner city; instead they say, “These pools do NOT have to comply with laws covering discrimination on the basis of race, creed, religious belief, etc. This means, of course, that the owners renting these pools will be able to refuse to rent on these bases. Does the County really want to promote activities that are permitted to discriminate?”

No one believes this is their genuine concern.

One of the concerned citizens told the local media about dog parks, “I’d like to be able to sit on my deck and maybe read a book and chat with a friend or have a glass of wine, and the dogs are barking.” Another co-signer to the letter told the Washington Post that she once had to close her window because of occasional noise.

Pool-sharing is just the latest addition to the growing network of peer to peer services that bring so much flexibility, fun, and adventure to the modern economy. It certainly won’t be the last. Consumers love it, as do countless homeowners with private property they wish to share. Let the people swim.

Originally published here