TV Times - Wednesday

‘Of course you lot are all the bloody same.’ Rages a disgruntled buyer, when I inform him the owner has rejected his offer in favour of a third party. As ever, I can only sell the property once but logic is the first casualty of failed negotiations.

‘I know what you get up to.’ Continues the man, his voice raising an octave as the red mist descends. He doesn’t. Not me personally, anyway.

‘I’ll happily try and find you something similar.’ I placate, knowing it’s unlikely to work and I’m unlikely to be able to deliver. I don’t do the supply or the demand but you can’t tell people – public, politicians, journalists, any of them…

‘Yeh, right.’ Sneers the unhappy punter, as his partner chips away in the background, poking him with a great big verbal stick.

‘Report him, Nigel. It’s not right.’ Urges a female voice, now no higher than Nigel’s.

‘Yes,’ squeals Nigel triumphantly. ‘I’m going to report you.’

I assure the man that I’ve behaved ethically, relayed his offer to the vendor, both verbally and in writing. I’ve not favoured the other buyer – neither of them wanted to use our chubby mortgage man, if you’re an undercover reporter – and I’ve remained true to both my own and the published code of ethics. I might as well be speaking Swahili.

‘Tell him we saw that programme.’ Prods the woman, in the background.

‘What programme?’ Asks Nigel, sotto voice. I try not to laugh; I’ve found it never helps when handling complaints. I know, before Nigel repeats the cobbled together transmission’s title, although it could be one of many poorly researched television exposures on estate agency.

Usually, a lisping presenter with a public school background and a burning desire to be an impoverished socialist; hides a miniature camera in his man bag and lies about who he is to various shady agents, who I too would happily see out of business. This one was broadcast a few night’s ago, but with the advent of catch-up television even the oddball who was jerking-off on a house price forum when it was shown, can download it again and again.

‘It’s a scam.’ Shrieks Nigel, as his partner now takes to echoing his words. It’s not. It’s one house, three buyers and a couple in a far better financial and able to proceed promptly position to yours, Nigel old boy.

‘Offer more.’ Cajoles the lady.

‘We haven’t got any more.’ Whispers Nigel. He needs to use the mute button, or at least hold his hand over the phone.

‘He has to tell them, if we offer more.’ Continues the woman avidly. ‘It was on the programme.’

I do and I will, but I might also mention the bit Nigel failed to conceal. I get paid on results not fantasies – although it would be interesting to see how my bean counter boss set targets for those objectifying objectives. Particularly since the company blocked 90% of the specialist websites available, on quiet days.

  

‘If we don’t get this house, we’ll never use you again.’ Warns Nigel. He hasn’t used us yet in truth and I certainly won’t be earning anything from him, but I can understand the frustration. Property purchase is an imperfect business and it’s not helped by the, oft transmitted on all channels, fact that anyone can set up an estate agency business, with no experience, qualifications or minimum standards.

‘I know a lot of people.’ Threatens Nigel, weakly as his partner agrees. Me too.

‘And I’ll be telling them all what I think of your outfit.’ I glance at my suit and tie combo in the office mirror and have to stifle another unhelpful giggle. I apologise once more and avoid Nigel actually making a risible offer he can’t deliver.

‘Can you give us first refusal?’ Pleads Nigel, as I start to feel sorry for him, an emotion you need to junk in your first few months in the industry. They still don’t get it. It’s not up to me. An honest agent can’t make any decision on behalf of the owner; he’s a conduit pure – in my case – and simple.

The Christmas card list shortens. 

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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.

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