Can't Always Get What You Want - Wednesday

‘So how much you going to sting me for selling my house?’ Challenges the husband as his wife nods in passive-aggressive agreement. I’ve done the preliminary chat, establishing motivation, and the walk-round what is a pretty average semi-detached house from an uninspired architectural period. Now for the tricky bit…

‘If I could just run through the marketing we’d recommend for your home.’ I begin, trying to keep any trace of weariness from my voice. Those that have the fee-blinkers on won’t often be distracted, now matter how financially destructive their obsession with charges alone, might turn out to be.

‘Never mind all that nonsense.’ Interjects the man, clearly enjoying showing his nodding dog wife he’s an Alpha male. He’ll be doing her from behind later suggests a distracting inner voice I could do without - particularly as the wife is staring at me earnestly. She’s either attentively awaiting my reply or I’ve left my flies open.

‘I know you lot are all the same.’ Continues the man, smirking at his wife before adding. ‘I’ve done my research.’ For a moment I wonder if my huge internal groan has verbalised externally. That would be almost as bad as that awkward moment in a client’s house when I made to discharge a gaseous build-up silently, only for a light-fitting-rattler to blast from my nether regions. It was one of the few times I was glad there was a pet dog in the room. God bless you Buster….

One of the most demoralising customers, are those with a little knowledge and a similar amount of intellect. The type of individual who wield a clipboard, with a self-made grid listing the pros and cons of each agent and tick boxes with comment spaces. Ultimately though this guy will be only thinking, price and fee. The future service element and how much an experienced professional operator could save him, doesn’t have a place on his form.

‘I’d like to think not all agents are the same any more than every car, or television is identical.’ I tell him, regurgitating bits from several courses. He has a BMW on the drive and one trainer recommended disparagingly telling owner’s with prestige cars and an aversion to sensible selling fees, that they could be driving a budget brand motor but they’d actually recognised a difference there. To be honest some sales scenarios are best left for the classroom – particularly with dental costs as high as they are.

‘You just stick a photo in the window and put it on a website.’ Goads the man, ruffling towards his wife like the cock I’ve decided he is. And to think I sat exams to try and differentiate myself from the wide-boys and girls with sign-written company cars.

I try to point out that the value of an agent’s expertise often comes during the negotiation phase, or the protracted post sale, pre-exchange period. Endeavour to enlighten him on chain delays, down-valuations, bad survey reports, unhelpful local searches, covenants and deeds of variation. I might as well be conversing in Swahili.

‘You’re having a laugh.’ Snaps the man when I finally tell him my recommended asking price and suggested fee.

‘That’s several thousand pounds.’ Says his wife. ‘Just for advertising it.’

It’s not just for advertising it, plus it’s No Sale No Fee. And I have a feeling it would be the latter in the unlikely event I get the instruction to sell.

‘I’ve been offered way more than that on the selling price.’ Begins the man, showing his grasp of the property market hasn’t been improved by wielding an A4 self-penned comparison sheet.

‘Yeh and we can use an on-line agency for next to nothing.’ Adds his wife, as I think, that’s what you’d get lady.

I’ve seen more on-line agency outfits that have ‘spotted a gap in the market’ come and go in the last decade than we’ve had Baby Clothes shops in the High Street start and fail. The sort of ill-researched enterprises favoured by smart-suited, dim-headed candidates from television’s devoid-from-reality show, The Apprentice.

‘How did the valuation go?’ Asks negotiator S, fifteen later.

They are probably assembling their own for sale board about now.

------

Avoid costly property mistakes with the bargain price Amazon ebook here:

http://amzn.to/ttGZ4j

US Readers: http://amzn.to/vXpFJf

Big Bang Theory - Thursday

‘Here comes Sheller.’ Announces trainee F with unusual confidence. There’s a long silence, as we look at him, each other, then follow his gaze out into the high street.

Assistant manager T sighs then enlightens the imbecile. ‘It’s Bomber, his name is Bomber.’

‘The end result is the same though.’ Says negotiator S with a shake of her head.

‘That’s what I meant.’ Counters F defensively. ‘Bomber.’ He hesitates then asks. ‘Remind me why he’s called Bomber again? He’s too young for euthanasia but a controlled explosion at his desk might work.

‘Because he destroys sales.’ Answers S, saving me from some witheringly sarcastic response that might involve another re-education course with some touchy-feely woman from HR who doesn’t shave often enough.

Every town has a harsh-minded surveyor or two. Long in the tooth practitioners who were sued until their professional indemnity insurers threatened to withdraw cover, after the last property crash. Where lenders who were all to happy to advance money rashly to those with dodgy employment letters, or self-certificated borrowers proffering back of a fag packet first year accounts, decided to retrospectively blame the surveyor for signing off a value that some expected to only keep rising. 20-20 hindsight is a real gift.

‘The twat just down-values every sale he looks at.’ Snarls T. ‘We agree a house at £375,00 he’ll value it at £ 350,000,’ continues T hitting his stride as Bomber does the same across the road. ‘Tie a deal up on the same house at £350,000 and you can guarantee he’s value it at £325,000. Those bastards are frightened of their own shadows. I’m surprised he comes out in the daylight.’

‘I’ve complained about him to my panel of lenders.’ Contributes tubby mortgage man M as he waddles across the office something chaffing again unpleasantly. ‘Tried to get him struck off but they won’t play ball like they used to.’ There’s a reason for that, I think glumly. My memory and longevity is elephantine and I’ve repossessed more homes than I care to remember.

‘If the sale goes down the pan, could you ask the owners if they’d like to rent it out instead?’ Asks B from lettings unhelpfully. The dagger-shaped looks just bounce off her. ‘What?’ She asks with an air of innocence she lost a long time ago. ‘A girl’s got to make a living.’

‘Be nice to him.’ I counsel as Bomber approaches the door. ‘You never know, he might value it up.’

‘Fat chance’ Says M without a hint of irony.

M is right. But I can’t afford to upset the surveyor, despite the fact his caution, bordering on outright fear, has cost me thousands this year alone. But then if it’s not Bomber, it’ll be one of his partners in destruction. I know of a Dr Death, The Terminator and at least two Grim Reapers, from discussions with sister offices.

‘Morning everybody.’ Breezes Bomber as he enters the office. The response is colder than a long-abandoned house. I’m surprised his damp meter doesn’t start pinging off the scale. I beckon him over, and he gives me the address. Only two weeks ago I was punching the air with delight when the sale was agreed, now I’m imagining the fractious conversation with the owner and a call to the board man to re-erect the For Sale sign.

‘Set of the details and the energy performance report please.’ Says Bomber with a forced smile I’d like to force back down his throat. He’s the only person to show interest in an EPC since the last surveyor came in to cover their arse.

I hand Bomber the information and ask him to sign for the keys.

‘Got any comparable sales?’ He asks whiningly. So you can work down from those figures, less ten percent, I think angrily. If you put enough caveats and disclaimers in a survey it becomes as worthless as the EPC he’s clutching protectively.

‘Hmm, price looks a bit full,’ speculates Bomber to an audible pantomime-style hiss from stage left, right and centre.

‘It reflects the market. We had competitive bidding and two disappointed punters.’ I tell him artfully.

‘Reckon it’ll be ok?’ Asks F after Bomber leaves.

No.

------

More explosive content in the 'too cheap' ebook, here:

http://amzn.to/ttGZ4j

US Readers: http://amzn.to/vXpFJf

Divided Loyalty - Monday

‘I’m going to need a price chop on flat four.’ Announces morbidly obese mortgage man M at the morning meeting. Immediately I bristle. Not visibly, I got that under control after a few months in the business, but inside I’m angry.

‘Why’s that?’ I ask in a studied tone of neutrality. Only I’m not neutral, I’m old school estate agency. I want my clients – the owners – to have the best deal possible. They’re the couple that entrusted me with their home sale. Who chose me over at least two other agents pitching for the instruction. I have a duty of care and a certain amount of stubborn pride that hasn’t been eroded by years of ramped-up targets working for faceless financial institutions, more interested in the buyer than the seller.

‘Crap survey.’ Reports M derisively. ‘Needs new window frames soon, communal parts aren’t up to much and the sale agreed figure is too high.’ That’ll be the price the buyers were happy to pay four weeks ago then, I think sourly. Before M tucked them into a nice loan deal and some high-commission generating life insurance.

When I first started half a lifetime ago, when a Ford Orion Ghia and paisley ties were fashionable, it was simple. The estate agents acted for the seller and the buyer was pretty much the enemy. Then a raft of banks, building societies and insurance companies bought into partnerships with the sole aim of tapping into naïve first time buyers. The object was to snare them for life as a customer before another institution did. Endowment mortgages were flogged with ruthless singularity and it wasn’t unheard of for buyers to be favoured as long as they used the financial products the paymasters wanted flogged.

‘I’ve got at least two other buyers who’d pay the price agreed.’ I tell M wearily, still not wishing to junk all my principles despite my own moribund repayment vehicle – yep, I have an endowment too.

‘Yes but if it’s not worth the money.’ Repeats M dogmatically. He still seems to think chartered surveyors know values. They just chop a bit off the agreed price and churn out a survey so shot-through with caveats it actually says nothing actionable, to the practiced reader.

‘I’ve got an introducer’s fee due on the buyers.’ Says negotiator S with a rueful smile. She is good at channelling purchasers into M’s chubby paws and my bean counter boss loves bolt-on fee earning opportunities. But it’s a difficult square to circle and I often wonder if the punters – sellers or buyers – are getting the best deal. Then I remember I need to make some pretty chunky payments each month. It’s not easy to love yourself in this industry.

‘Get me a copy of the report and I’ll talk to the owners.’ I tell M gloomily. I’d love to tell the buyers to twist, and wheel in another purchaser possibly at more money to show the owners I’m on their side, but in reality that sale might come up against the same hurdles, only a couple of months down the line – and my mortgage needs paying every four weeks.

I remind M that there may be money to fix the windows in the maintenance sinking fund, but I know the management company in this block is as suspect as my allegiances. The original developer is rumoured to own the company charged with the upkeep of the building and like many, is using the arcane leasehold tenure system as a cash cow to milk ground rents and inflict skyrocketing service charges. I’d never buy a flat without a share in the freehold – come to think of it I’d never buy a flat period. Not again anyway.

‘This is blackmail.’ Wails the lady vendor when I tell her the buyers need three thousand off, or they’ll be off. I warned her at the beginning not to start packing until contracts were exchanged, but the room is full with cardboard boxes.

‘They shouldn’t be allowed to do this.’ Continues the joint-owner balefully. She looks at me as I think, don’t ask for a fee reduction lady, but instead she says: ‘What would you do?’

Take the money and run.

------

Spend some of the cash here :

http://amzn.to/ttGZ4j