06 May 2025
I Just Visited 10 Self-Storage Facilities — 6 Were Struggling, 4 Were Thriving. Here's What I Saw.
I hit the road last week and visited 10 self-storage facilities. Just walked in cold — no heads-up, no secret shopper badge, just a curious guy trying to see what’s really happening out there.
Here’s the thing: four of them were thriving. You could feel it the second you stepped onto the property — the energy, the professionalism, the pride. The other six? They were barely hanging on. And after walking all ten, I couldn’t help but spot the clear differences.
Let’s break it down.
At the thriving locations, it was obvious — someone cared.
The floors were clean, the bathrooms smelled like they’d actually seen disinfectant this year, and even the landscaping had that “somebody trims the hedges on purpose” kind of look. Trash cans weren’t overflowing, doors weren’t rusted, and the lights in the hallways all worked. Even the gravel or asphalt was in good shape, not a pothole minefield.
Now, contrast that with the struggling six.
I saw one facility with a keypad literally dangling off the wall. Another had spider webs all over the hallway motion sensors. One had the kind of bathroom that makes you reconsider your bladder capacity. It wasn’t just one thing — it was the feeling that no one was paying attention. And if they aren’t paying attention to the facility, what does that say about how they treat your stuff?
This was maybe the biggest gap I saw.
At the thriving facilities, the managers were into it. They smiled. They asked questions. One even said, “Let me show you a few rooms based on what you’re storing — I think you’ll like the one near the exit for quick access.” That’s next-level. They weren’t rushing me out the door — they were having a conversation, trying to solve a problem.
At one of the underperforming sites, the guy behind the counter looked like he hated his life and definitely didn’t want to talk to me. I asked if I could see a unit and he pointed vaguely and said, “They’re down that hall.” Didn’t offer to walk me back. Didn’t even stand up.
And follow-up? Night and day.
Out of the four thriving spots, three emailed and called me the next day. The fourth at least called. Out of the six others? Zero. Not one. If I had been a real customer ready to rent, they wouldn’t have known — because they didn’t bother to ask.
Security is either obvious or obviously missing.
The successful facilities had working gates with personalized codes, cameras clearly mounted and functional, and well-lit pathways — even in the back corners. I saw monitors in the office with live feeds of every angle, and the doors closed firmly behind you when you walked into a hallway.
Now let’s talk about the others.
At one location, the gate stood wide open. Not broken — just open. No keypad needed. I asked the manager about it and he typed in a 4-digit code. I said, “Wait, is that it? That seems easy to guess.” And he literally said: “Yeah, doesn’t really matter. People just share their codes anyway. Can’t keep track of who’s coming or going.”
I was floored. You just told a potential customer that anyone can access the property and you don't really know who's on site?
At another struggling facility, a storage door handle looked like someone had tried to pry it open with a crowbar. It wasn’t even repaired. Security is a message you send to renters — and this message was: “Good luck out there.”
In 2025, your website is your front porch. And the thriving facilities rolled out the welcome mat.
They had clean, modern sites. You could see available units, prices, photos, and even do the rental process right there online. They had Google reviews in the hundreds — 4.7 stars and up — with detailed, positive feedback and regular responses from management.
One even had a virtual walkthrough of the facility — it felt high-end, polished, trustworthy.
The other six? Felt like a time warp.
Old websites with no pricing. Broken links. Grainy pictures — if there were pictures at all. Reviews? A few. Most negative. And not one owner or manager responded to the complaints. When customers say your facility is dirty or unsafe and you don’t reply? You’re confirming it.
I didn’t run data models or dig through spreadsheets. I just showed up and looked around. But you don’t need a fancy report to see the truth:
The thriving facilities weren’t perfect — but they were intentional. The struggling ones weren’t just behind — they were disconnected. From the customer. From the details. From the basics.
And in this industry, the basics are everything.
