Gathering Nuts

I showed a rental home earlier this week to three Arizona State University football players. The house in question is in Tempe (out of Mrs. Worrier's budget and managed by my property management company, so no). It is 2,400 square feet and $2000 a month. It is in a pretty nice neighborhood actually.

It is funny, just by looking at a picture of the living room/dining area I could tell it was a Lennar, split bedroom plan. Not that anyone would know or care what that meant. Basically I could describe the inside without ever stepping foot on the property. I swear there are only about 7 floor plans, with lots of variations. So, if you have seen one, you have seen them all. But I digress...

Anyway, I took Buckaroo with me, as I don't show rentals to people I don't know. Two of the boys were very nice and respectful. The other was a bit squirrely and I can't tell what it is about him but he and I didn't hit it off. He had a strange nervous vibe and was putting me slightly on edge. The other two ran interference when they could between him and I, as if they were sensing he had to be handled.

The three asked me questions such as "who mows the lawn." (me: "which ever of you decides to mow it") and "is electricity included?" (only if you pay for it). "How do we get a washer and dryer?" (May I introduce you to a nifty little site called craigslist?). All of these questions told me these guys had never rented a house before. The two who didn't make me on edge, took the answers in stride, as if this was all a part of adulting and they appreciated the heads' up. The other one asked questions like, "what do you think a lawn mower costs?" and "what happens if we let the grass grow too long?" Truly, I am surprised the other two didn't stop him from asking these questions, because it was obvious to them I was paying close attention.

As a former landlord, I wouldn't rent to them. I don't like roommate situations. If one leaves, everything goes South. In the best case they get another roommate to split the rent and don't tell the owner. In the worst case, they all abandon the property. Given they don't seem to understand the concept of maintaining a home I am seeing a huge learning curve on some owner's asset.

I made it clear I don't handle the application process, nor do I handle the approval process. If they like the house and apply, I probably won't see them again even if they get the property. However, I will tell El Jefe my opinion of them. And right now my opinion is to wait a little bit longer and see who else applies. The squirrely one may be worth passing on.

Standards

When you have five children and are homeless, living at your parent's home, it might behoove you to lower your standards. Mrs. Worrier (she really is a super-nice person and I do like her) is doing all of the above except lowering her standards. Her parents are livid and want her gone. Her husband, for some reason, is bunking in a hotel until they find a place. But Mrs. Worrier has standards, little cash and poor credit. Here is her non-negotiable items for her next rental home.

1. Not managed by a property management company. No exceptions. She had a bad experience once. 
2. No carpet. It might get wet. 
3. Must be in the City of Tempe. Mind you, that's not very many homes and Tempe just happens to be adjacent to Scottsdale, Mesa and Chandler, but no. Tempe or nothing. By the way, Mr. Worrier works in North Scottsdale. But, East Phoenix is not an option either. 
4. Must be at least 2,000 square feet. 1,975 square feet is NOT 2,000 square feet. So, no exceptions there either.
5. Must have no less than 4 bedrooms. Also non-negotiable. 
6. Can't cost more than $1400/month. That's truly all they can afford, however they are looking in the $1700-$1800/month range because they can't find anything. Most rentals that are 2,000 square feet are about $1900-$2200/month right now. 
7. Must be updated and modern. I don't know what this means, but she seems to know. 

I am guessing she will find a place on her own and then ask me a million questions about whether or not it is the "right" house. I am thinking any place she eventually agrees to rent will be the right house. I won't get a commission when all is said and done. That's fine. I am spending more time writing about her than helping her.

The Security Deposit

Mrs. Worrier, my serial rental client, called me yesterday. You see, she had just moved out of her rental and she was, ... wait for it... worried. What if she doesn't get her security deposit back? What then?

I stupidly asked why did she think she wouldn't get her security deposit back. Didn't she leave the house in the same shape she found it in?

Well, apparently she left it in almost the same shape she found the house in. Except there were a few "very minor" teensy, tiny really, issues. First, one of her children broke off a panel of the vertical blinds. 

"I think you are on the hook for that set of blinds," I replied. 

She asked, incredulously, "Why don't they just replace the one blind I broke?" 

I didn't explain that the person who "replaces" the one blind that was broken would have to hunt down the pattern about six different stores and then hire someone to replace it. By the time that person was done, they have spent their own time and money to do so. It is easier and quicker to just replace the entire blind. It may not be "fair" (because I assure you, Mrs. Worrier did not think it was the least bit fair) but neither was it fair for Mrs. Worrier to give back the home with broken blinds. 

Biting my tongue, I wanted to desperately ask if the owner should have to shoulder the cost of his or her time because the Worriers couldn't be bothered to take care of the blinds? If they don't want to pay for new blinds because they didn't take care of the ones in the home, maybe they should have gone to different stores looking for a matching panel and reinstalled it. 

Blinds aside, Mrs. Worrier had a bigger issue. Apparently her husband spilled "a spot" of bleach on the brown carpet. I don't know how big a spot happens to be or where it was located, but I got the impression for our conversation that it was big enough and conspicuous enough that Mr. Worrier then took a magic marker and colored the carpet to make it match. Unfortunately, it didn't match. "They can't possibly charge us for a new carpet, can they?" 

Not only can they, the owner will and and should. "But it isn't really ruined, I mean it is still carpet." Mrs. Worrier said. 

I equated it to spilling bleach on a black dress. The dress is still wearable, but let's face it, the dress is ruined. No amount of magic marker is going to hide the spot. And then Mrs. Worrier said again what every renter in her situation has said before her. "Well, that's just not fair." 

For those of you who don't know me, please understand. I have tenant PTSD. It will never go away, though I manage it under most circumstances. Given they are my clients and given they have referred me to many who aren't train wrecks, I caught myself before I went off--because I really wanted to. Instead, I just told her to take it up with the owner, as I didn't really have much else to say she would want to hear. 

She said she would. Then she told me she will, "never rent another home that has carpet." Well, at this point, she isn't renting anything because there is nothing out there that meets her bat-crazy criteria. 

The Great Flood

I don't often post about my private, spiritual life. But I have one. It comes in handy when (in no particular order) I'm:

• running/closing an accidental business
• selling real estate
• homeschooling
• raising teenagers
• mourning the loss of my bonus mother
• pulling one's self up from financial ruin
• dealing with rentals and soon to be homeless renters

In this case, a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned the chaos magnet I am dealing with. My clients are serial renters who seem to have drama follow them where ever they go. In some cases, the drama is unfathomable. I mean, at some point it suspends reality to worry about a herd of buffalo stampeding through your dining room, but yet!

The Mrs., who is a very sweet person, is a chronic worrier. I am guessing from the dynamic of her and her husband, this is a bone of contention in their marriage. Also, because of their last rental nightmare, the Mrs. and her five children are living at her parents' home. (The husband is in a hotel--I don't know why). The Mrs. and the Mr. have both told me her parents are kicking them out. So, if one needs a home pretty darn quickly, it would be best to actually find one. But that's just me.

Anyway, the Mrs. has some tough criteria. She doesn't want under 2000 square feet. She doesn't want anything managed by a property manager company (she had a "bad" experience once). The property can't "feel" old and a litany of other intangibles. Two weeks ago I thought we had found it. Except it was "old" and she wasn't sure whether or not it was falling apart. After an hour of dithering at the home, she even asked me if I thought it might catch fire.

At any rate, they applied and were approved.

And then she sent me a text message, concerned that the place may flood. Well, you know, anything can happen. There is no reason to think it would flood any more than there is any reason to think it might catch fire. It wasn't just one text message. Mrs. Constant Worrier, sent manuscript, concerned  about what would happen if there were a few drops of water on the inside. She dithered for hours about this. I know this because she wrote volumes to me via text message about her dithering. She told me the worry was making her sick. It was giving me a headache.

But both of us being the Catholic, when she called I talked and prayed with her. I asked for the decision to be abundantly clear. That there would be no question in her mind whether or not this was the house for her. We said "Amen" and I went on with my day.

A few hours later she called me. She was at the house right then and there with the listing agent to hand over her deposit. And what do you know? There was two inches of water throughout the front room. And here is the weird part. The water to the house was off.

Had she been at the house prior to this and known it? Maybe? But doubtful. Especially when she called me crying, wondering what to do. Besides, she has transportation issues like I do right now. And it doesn't change the fact the water was OFF. It hadn't rained recently. The water department hadn't run over there from Friday night to turn it on and then back over on Sunday afternoon to turn off the water. And why would the owner want to pay for that even if the water department did do this?

At any rate, all I asked her was, did this qualify as "abundantly clear?" Apparently it did.

My Babies

Buckaroo (8) and Polly (10), 2010 

I watched the teens jump on the trampoline today. It was a blast to see them acting and reacting the same way towards each other that they have for the past 15 years. They truly are the best of friends. I will miss these days. Growing up is harder on me than on them.

The Business Plan

Though it would be really nice to go into 2018 blindly, and just sell what I sell, it isn't feasible. So, every year around this time I come up with a business plan. I am the only one at my office who does this. But I have to tell you, the years I have taken the hour or two to figure out how much I need to make and what my projected expenses and taxes would be, have been much more productive than the years I haven't.

Simply, it looks like for us to achieve our goals next year (including, in case this hasn't come up, buying a car), I need to sell between 10-13 homes. I sold six this year (so far), and I only worked four months, so I know it is doable. Of course, if I don't hit my goal the world doesn't end. Marty has a job and carries our insurance.

Incidentally, here are our goals: a car (did I mention that?), being able to pay for Polly's tuition, a few various things that need to be done around the home and some travel that we expect to do. In addition, we want to have at minimum least three month's living expenses in the bank--just in case. 2019 will bring different goals. Baby steps.

My income since 2007 or so was sucked into the now-defunct accidental business. This year it went to taking care of lingering accidental business garbage. So, starting in 2018 I can actually take what I make and put it towards our future, that is, AFTER the car.

Even starting at $0, it is nice to be in a position to look forward to some healthy pursuit instead of the former dysfunctional world of suck that I was stuck in.

Creative Travel

Admit it, this looks like fun.

  I just talked to my brother about our upcoming trip to visit him in California. I explained we had to buy a stove today--though it was a bargain, on clearance even!--but it killed our measly savings account. I explained that the trip to The Getty or Knotts Berry Farm or a day trip to Solvang, might not be happening.

He shared with me that on top of our stove purchase, they needed a dishwasher. However, my sister-in-law is on medical leave for the next several months, so any major appliance purchase on their end was on hold. Additionally we could nix taking a trip to the beach, as she cannot travel.

But, no matter what, they just wanted us to visit. That works well for us, because we still wanted to come. In the end we decided I would bring paper plates and a few extra sheets. We would then make a fort in his living room and just play cards inside the fort for a few days.

Looking forward to it.

Murphy's Latest Prank

Murphy and I are good friends. His last joke was destroying my oven. The oven went out in a blaze of glor... never mind. It went out in a blaze.

Fortunately, Murphy waited until after Mr. Reader Number Two left (we fed him lunch--roast pork, roasted Brussels sprouts, homemade bread, pie--you see the need for the oven?). Also, fortunately, it is not my responsibility to host Thanksgiving, so I don't need an oven at least until Friday. Unfortunately, drop-in stoves are much, much more expensive than your run-of-the-mill regular stove. And, they are apparently less reliable, as this will the second time we have replaced the darn thing. I did find a used one, but given it is the same brand and age as the one I have, I wasn't as excited. The one I have never really worked right to begin with.

Today, I told Polly that it looked like our California trip later this year was on hold because we needed to buy a new stove. She looked at me, and with all seriousness said, "How badly do we need an oven?" Yeah... I think it will take precedent over a trip--though I am still crossing my fingers on the trip, but probably not.

Being 12 weeks north of financial ruin has been interesting. Our small savings is once again going to be ravaged by our second house emergency (there was a sewage backup and subsequent new hot water heater necessary last month). It happens.

I would dare say all of these little Murphy-type things are just a result of deferred maintenance for the past 9 years, as we were consumed with lots of other non-urgent fire drills that had us making other financial decisions.  But I have to wonder, how do those who don't have a meager savings handle these types of things because, at least for us, we are one Murphy prank shy of being a train wreck. And though that makes great blog fodder, it kind of sucks for those of us who have to live it.

The great news is that we have the money available for a stove. The not so great news is that our California trip is probably on hold. The really annoying news is my future car is probably still in the distant future.

Banana Bread

The kids and I made three loaves of banana bread today. It was fun to watch Buckaroo mash the bananas while Polly ran the mixer. The recipe belonged to Reader Number Two, my bonus mother. She used to make it for me about twice a year when I was younger. Hopefully my bread will be half as good as hers. Today's memories were good. We had fun and laughed.

Then I sat back and reflected upon my blog journal entries for the past year. What a year! This time last year we were in the early stages of closing the accidental business. We knew it was coming, but not when. Mr. Ex-Partner was peppering me with lots of questions, most he didn't like the answer to anyway. It was as if, he knew what the logical course of action happened to be but was hoping for a simpler and happier outcome. Sorry 'bout that.

Closing the business was emotional, but the true, raw emotion consumed me a couple of years before we made the decision to close. When the inevitable was in front of us the process was mechanical, though once in a while self-doubt and self-disapproval haunted me. Moving on wasn't tough, I was ready. Looking back, it was probably for the best that I had emotionally unattached myself a couple years prior.

The truth is, I know I did everything I could. There were other circumstances too. I learned. My conscience is clear. The end.

Growing away from that chapter of our lives this past few months has been interesting. Of course, the past four months and one day have stunted me a bit, as I mourned my dear friend and mother-by-heart. But now I smile when I make her banana bread. But looking back, I can see I have been healing from the accidental business stuff too. It wasn't only financial that plagues me. It is that fourteen years went by without a better ultimate outcome. If I hadn't done this, where would my life had taken me, I wonder.

Would I have been more emotionally available to my children and their education? Would we have needed my income? Would I have gotten terribly ill in 2009, to the point where I needed surgery in March and thought for sure my life was over that October? In those situations, there isn't room to panic because it takes too much strength. I didn't have it. Both illnesses I attribute to stress. Would we have had a nice retirement nest egg by now, or would we have squandered the money because we didn't know any better and only through this accidental business process did we learn these lessons? These are things I wonder.

My children don't feel like they were abandoned--I have asked. They don't feel like they "missed out" a childhood or specifically, additional opportunities. They tell me they have happy memories in the past 14 years of our family being a family and special times with me. I am glad to hear that. Hopefully making banana bread will be another memory for them too.

Fixed It

Dear Agents,

In this age of easy photo cropping, I ask you, why is this dude in this MLS picture?

Sincerely,

Me




P. S. It took less than one minute for me to change this photo.

Today's Bad MLS Pictures

To be fair, sometimes, we as real estate agents, have to work with what we have. There is only so much coaching, cajoling, and downright tough love we can give when we sell homes. I sold a hoarder home once. It was a lot easier once my clients moved out and the home was professionally cleaned. Most homes don't have hoarders living in them. They have the folks who have different ideas of clean and tidy. As a homeschooling mom, I often tell people my home is "homeschool clean." Those who homeschool know exactly what I mean. Those that don't, know exactly what that means once they walk in (the dishes aren't done, the laundry probably isn't either. The bathrooms are clean, but there are books and papers in three different rooms).

Anyway, this is to preface, we agents aren't always on the same page with our clients when we explain what "show-ready" is supposed to look like. And yes, this home is actually active in the MLS. It has been on the market for two days. In the private remarks that only us agents can see, it says, "owner wants home sold NOW!" It also says in the same private remarks the AC doesn't work.








This last photo is kind of on the agent though. That is a mirror. The agent could have made sure the person wasn't standing in his line of sight when he shot the photo.

Up From Here

We just paid off our second debt that was not included in our bankruptcy. It is a wonderful feeling.

Now saving for a car.

Rental Hunting

So I have these clients who are repeat renters. And once again they are looking for a rental home. They are sweet folks. But drama seems to follow them everywhere. Granted, if you look at the drama for their last rental home, it wasn't their fault (and will make excellent blog fodder if I ever get around to writing about it). We all know folks like this. Essentially nothing is their fault, but somehow the Universe considers them a chaos magnet.

Today I showed the Mrs. a rental home. It is 2,400 square feet and $1800 a month. It is situated on an acre. And, it was built, and tastefully decorated I might add, in 1968. She called the house "old." Which I thought was a bit of a stretch, as I happened to have been born that same year.

The house in question still had the same wallpaper from 1968. It had the same appliances from 1968. It probably hadn't been maintained since 1968. Though I am no expert on these types of things, given all the deferred maintenance, I am guessing it has the same electrical and plumbing from 49 years ago too. And by the way, my client knew how old the home was and had looked at interior photos when she called me asking to see the house.

To be fair, this home, fixed up and without a ton of necessary maintenance needed, would probably rent for closer to $4000/month. It is in a million dollar neighborhood. And yes, it is the ugliest home on the block. But I am guessing the original owners of this home owned the block and subdivided out the land as time went on. My clients aren't million dollar people. They are folks who need a home now and need lots of space. The rental market is tight enough, but it was obvious to see why this home wasn't renting for $4000 a month.

Instead of embracing the quirky charm of the house (and it has quirks), Mrs. Client asked me questions: did I think the property had toxic mold? Did I think the landlord would replace the carpeting (No, I didn't. If they were going to replace it, they would have done so already)? Did I think the landlord would remodel the kitchen (No)? Did I think the landlord would replace the stove (It works fine, just like any other stove)? Did I think there was a problem with the plumbing, electrical, AC, windows and foundation?

And my favorite question of the day: Did I think the house was a fire hazard?

What does one say to that? If you think about it, every home is a fire hazard. Homes in Arizona are mostly made of wood. There are flammable materials throughout a home, including cabinets and carpet. Additionally, if one were to put the wrong electrical wires together it might cause a spark. But my answer was simply, "It seems to be standing to me."

The truth is I can't legally venture an opinion. I am not an expert on electrical, plumbing, interior decorating (my friends can guarantee this last one). Saying "It is safe" could land me in court. Saying, "It looks like a fire hazard to me," could also land me in court. There is a no right answer . Real estate agents are vague for a reason, simply because we are not allowed to have opinions if we want to keep our license. That's why blogs were invented.

The clients put an application in. The Mrs. sent me sixteen different e-mails, all containing one or two pages of said application and supporting documentation. I suggested they consolidate the e-mails so I can submit one nice, neat application. The Mrs. didn't think she could do that. She didn't know how to attach more than one document in an e-mail. I thought about not dealing with this, and just letting her look like a clown to the owner. But that would mean I would probably be showing them more homes that might have potential issues. And I don't need to be a chaos magnet either.

Today's Bad MLS Pictures

Every picture tells a story.

This is a real-life real estate picture for a $380,000 home for sale. What is the agent selling? An RV gate? Trash cans ? Ladder? Weird blue circle at the bottom of the picture?



Another home. This is how the picture looked in the MLS listing today. A lovely kitchen, as you will see, if you tilt your head.



Same home, different room.



Different home. Boxes for sale?



Different home. I am not sure what this is supposed to mean. A pass through from the sink perhaps?





Different home. I have no words.



Another home. This one in the $345k range. What are they selling? A shed or an unlandscaped yard?



Which brings up this question: if there is a shed, why aren't the tools in the shed? Do people not realize their address is on the internet??



And finally:



Same home, apparently the owner has a thing about bringing the outside in.



This last home, by the way, was my childhood home. I used to climb the orange tree in the front. My dad put up that ghastly paneling in the 1970s. Otherwise, the home I grew up in looked nothing like this.

And the Angels Rejoiced from the Heavens...

...as did I from Mesa, when I got word a half-hour ago that the homeless Veterans were no longer homeless.

(whew)

(The Other) Veteran's Day

This morning I met with the Veterans at the title office and witnessed them signing their home loan documents. At this point, barring anything else that can go wrong, they will be the proud owners of their home later this afternoon.

Of course, a stampede of wild buffalo haven't gone through the title office. Yet.

So there's still time for something else to happen.

My Afternoon with El Jefe

I turned in my paperwork to the office today. Though it is a small office (there are five agents, including El Jefe and his second in command Senora), I don't work out of the office. It would require me to pack up all my files and my laptop and then--because of our transportation situation--take the city bus a few miles. I can do the exact same work from home. For that matter, I could just e-mail him my paperwork, but it would probably get lost in his inbox.

Besides, I do like to touch base now and then. That way he can put a face to a commission check. Actually, I have known El Jefe for 15 years. He and I go way back. When I was thinking about leaving my last brokerage he talked me into working for him.

Anyway, El Jefe looked over my Veteran's paperwork today and said, "They have prepossession?"

"Yea, didn't I mention that?"

El Jefe looked at me, "No." He then looked at the paperwork again. "Didn't I have surgery that day?"

"I am sure I told you." I replied, waving a dismissive hand. And then, I brightly added, "But you know now!"

El Jefe wasn't too sure about this. "So, when does it close?"

"That's a very good question you are asking. How are you feeling by the way?"

I would like to say El Jefe took the bait and changed the subject, but well, no. "So what happens if this doesn't close?" Was his only question.

Giving him my brightest smile, I threw out, "Are you recovering nicely?"

"It depends," he said.

Raising an eyebrow I innocently inquired, "It depends on what?"

"If and when this prepossession is closing."

And that's when I offered to share my antacids with him.

Trish: One More Time

Here's what bugs me about shop talk with folks like Trish--especially ones who take Zillow's word as the utmost expert on real estate. To Trish, real estate is just about pretty homes. It isn't about the financial aspect or the legalities of what goes on. In Arizona, I am granted a license to practice one area of Arizona law. For that license, I get to drive around and open a lot of doors while my clients shop. I don't mind. I am at a point in my real estate career where I get to pick and choose who I drive around and whose doors I get to open. There is a lot of freedom in that.

Trish has no concept and understanding of the ins and out of what real estate really is. It is a contract. The idea that saying "on or before" is not the same as saying "on" and would never matter to her unless someone forgot the words "or before" and it changed her entire sale. The DIY shows don't cover what happens if a buyer quits his job a week into escrow. It doesn't talk about the legalities of disclosing if a murder ever happened on the property. The fix and flips never mention if a contract request states that the seller is to "service" the air conditioner, but doesn't specifically say what they are to service. So if the seller doesn't replace the condenser coils which are shot, has the seller fulfilled their part of the contract? The answer, by the way, is maybe.

Trish may think all she has to do is push a button on Zillow and she will have the answers about every modern and upgraded house around. But I guarantee, most of what I do has nothing to do with looking at pretty homes and figuring out where the Christmas tree goes. It isn't discussing if the red kitchen should be painted a more neutral color before listing.

What I do is help my clients decide if they are getting the best bang for their buck. I am helping negotiate with a (generally) emotional other party who has feelings and issues related to their home. I am providing resources and talking to others so that the sellers and buyers can get on with their lives as smoothly as possible, and not have to stress.  Hopefully I am helping them get a place to live under favorable (to them) circumstances. And I am helping them spend their one-third of a million in the best way possible.

The TV shows and Zillow don't do that.

Relax and Breathe

So this morning I was calling everyone under the sun making sure this sale with the Veterans is on track. I called the loan processor who gave me a one-word grunt, and did nothing to make me feel better. I explained there is more than likely a Cure Notice coming. Another grunt.

I called the title officer. And may I just say, she's amazing! She updated me. She said she had been talking with the selling side and smoothing things over on my client's behalf, even though I had never met this woman or worked with her before. In fact, while we were chatting the junior selling agent wrote her, cc'ing her on an e-mail to the sellers. "It's all good. Friday's a holiday. Look for this to close Monday," the title officer read me.

"That doesn't sound like a Cure Notice is coming." I said.

"No," she agreed. Maybe I am in the clear.

Just to be double-safe, I called one of the two agents who had been handling this sale. The junior agent on the transaction repeated what I had just heard in her e-mail. Friday is a holiday. This can happen next Monday. Your sale will go through. She told me she told the sellers to relax and breathe. From everything she said, it didn't sound like a Cure Notice was coming, but I hadn't talked to the other co-agent. He was the one I was concerned about.

It turns out the agent I was concerned about is no long in employ with this brokerage as of this past Monday. So essentially, the junior agent is handling everything. That would be the agent I had just spoken with. It also means that the agent who would have issued the Cure Notice probably doesn't care any more.

I didn't realize until after I hung up how relieved I was to find out a Cure Notice wasn't coming. The ramifications from one showing up were horrible. But right now, I think I am going to take the seller's junior agent's advice. Relax and breathe.

Fresh out of Time Machines

If only my Flintstone Mobile was tricked out like this one.
I wouldn't mind the manual transmission so much. 

My loan officer karma seems to be kind of ugly lately. Today, I got a call from a loan officer on another transaction I am doing. He started out pleasant enough. "Hey! Everything is done."

I responded thanking him for working so quickly on this sale--a far cry from another sale I have going which is turning me prematurely bald. I appreciated his diligence, as I am sure his clients appreciated it too. I was even about to ask for his contact information as I am looking for a new loan officer who works expediently, just as he had. However, as if I had just insulted his mother, his wife and his disabled child, the dude turned on me.

Because of some data entry error I apparently made six weeks ago, he is taking a hit on his commission. All of the sudden, his tune changed. His very next sentence after me thanking him and appreciating him was a snide, "Do me a favor, next time you list a property in this subdivision, do it right." And this one statement told me something had gone amiss. This was the first I had been informed.

I really hate the "next time you..." types of comments. They suggest the intended either needs to dust off the Delorean, power up the ol'e flux capacitor* and go back and fix whatever happened. Conversely, it can mean the intended knew and purposely committed a lie and "next time" don't do it. Either way, it is looking back, not forward--even if the words used are, "next time."

Not wanting to use any more of my cell minutes and figuring it couldn't get any better from here, I didn't point out the following. First, if he knew I had made an error at the beginning of this sale, and said so, I would have been happy to fix it. Second, this was the first I heard I made a data entry error. Third, if he knew I made the error, did not bring it to my attention but still took a hit on his commission, why tell me? That was his choice. And from what I can see, I am not sure why the loan officer needed to lose money over this. Instead he just wanted to be angry. And boy was he!

In truth, as soon as he told me I made this mistake I felt terrible. I apologized, but that wasn't enough to bring back the money he lost (and mind you, if he took a hit on his commission, that means he willingly cut his commission for his client's benefit--it happens, often for the greater good--but it is also a choice. This choice, by the way, was $200). The same once pleasant man called me a liar, a cheat and a fraud. Whatever. What I really am is someone who just pushed the wrong button on a data entry worksheet and nobody brought the error to my attention until today.


*I am taking personal delight in using "flux capacitor" in two different posts this week.

Looking for A Cure

In Arizona Real Estate, there is this document called a Cure Notice. An agent giving another agent a Cure Notice is a serious insult. It is ugly document and only provided when one party loses faith the other party will perform, or conversely, the other party has repeatedly not performed. They are not given out lightly, and pretty much tell the other side "you are a bunch of damn clowns" and give the right to cancel a transaction. To sum it up, a Cure Notice is akin to the Wild West's fight'n words that starts a shootout on Main Street.

The issuer of the Cure Notice gives the other side three calendar days to get their affairs in order or the other side cancels. The buyer's earnest money either goes back to the buyer (if it is the buyer who has issued the notice) or it goes to the seller if it is the seller who has told the buyer to perform or go away.

There is only ONE time in all my years of real estate that I have issued a cure notice as the seller and won the buyer's earnest money. It still makes me ill to think of the poor sellers who lost their money because their agent was an idiot. The sellers deserved better.

In my entire career, I have issued three cure notices. Basically, if a cure notice is being issued, it means all other means of negotiation have been exhausted. It also means that the patient side is tired of waiting for the other party to get their act together.

I am expecting a Cure Notice tomorrow. It makes me ill to know this is probably coming. But the fact is, my clients--the Veteran's--have not performed through no fault of their own. I have mentioned this to my loan officer of 12 years, who doesn't seem to completely grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, I am hearing "well... we should be done soon." SOON IS NOT SOON ENOUGH. My folks stand to loose $5,000 and would be homeless.

If I were the selling side, I guarantee I would be issuing one. I shared my concerns with the title company today (with the idea, maybe she can put a good word in for us). She agreed. Yep, a Cure Notice is coming.

Because I have been expecting this, I have been constantly communicating with the selling side. I have disclosed every detail of what I know--even if it contradicts past communication. I have cc'd the selling agent on e-mails to the loan officer. I have asked the loan officer--while cc'ing the selling agents--for updates. Essentially, I have kept the selling side in the loop with the hope of holding off a Cure Notice.

Tomorrow is the day when a Cure Notice can officially be issued. It means that the selling side can void the transaction if my buyers do not perform in three days. Three days from now will be a holiday. And I am told there is no way this sale will be done prior to three days from now. Of course, that also means that the sellers can't cancel the transaction until the following Monday. My hope is that by Monday, there will be enough movement in this sale that I can convince the selling side to hold off just a little bit longer--like a day or two. After all, it would take a day or two for the buyers to move out of the seller's home (remember, the buyers have prepossession) and the sellers to clean up and make the show ready. Isn't it better to wait just a teensy bit longer? Of course, this negotiation will probably require an agreement by the buyers to put down more money.

Though I am expecting a Cure Notice I have not mentioned this to the buyers. There is nothing they can do at this point. And we haven't received one--I am just expecting one. My game plan is in place if one comes in. And it goes like this: "Please change your mind. I have no idea why my loan officer has dropped the ball. But we are thisclose. Just another couple of days? Please?" So yes, essentially, my entire plan boils down to this: I am going to beg for mercy.

Shop Talk

Lest you think I was being unkind when Trish called me, I wasn't. I answered the phone for a couple of reasons. First, she is my friend we have been known to discuss many other topics. Second, I am the emergency contact for her child, so there have been occasions I have been asked if I can give her daughter a ride home from school.

But talking shop all the time gets boring. The truth is, real estate agents don't remember the 26 homes our buyers see. After a while, the homes blur together. "Did you think the house with the green bathroom was too small?" I don't remember a green bathroom. I saw a lot of bathrooms. Was that the house with the 2 x 4 that was extruding out of the fireplace? I remember that house.

Also, Trish happens to be a fangirl of DIY shows. I happen to think they are all the same. Someone (sponsored by Home Depot or a window company) buys a home a home, knocks out a wall and then has some sort of manufactured drama they weren't expecting. They are over budget, there is a bee hive in the basement or something else kind of stupid, but easily resolved in a sixty-minute episode. The made-for-TV drama is created to look like they are top decision makers and draw in viewers to make the advertisers happy. A true investor has already budgeted for contingencies and they don't have time for self-inflicted drama.

Trish also likes updated homes. This is a thing for her. She wants her house to have that modern appeal. Most "updated" homes look exactly alike. Recently I toured some model homes and then, that same day, looked at some updated 1950s properties. The kitchens in both sets of houses were exactly alike--same color cabinets, same types of flooring and counter tops. Everything from the lighting to the faucets were exactly the same. Everyone else's idea of "updated" is my idea of generic. Besides--and this is something I just don't understand why buyers ignore this--what is updated today is passe' five years later when these same buyers want to sell.

In any case, Trish calls real estate her passion, but I would like to point out she isn't in the field. She likes to look at model homes. She likes to talk about houses and she certainly likes to view Web sites and watch TV shows. That doesn't make it a passion in my book. That makes it an interest.

My Day Off

My neighbor Trish* calls real estate her "passion." She doesn't work in the field, but she likes to watch the DIY shows and look at pretty homes. Every so often, she calls me asking me to look up the price on a house or ask some random question.

On one recent occasion, she called me to for advice on a home she wanted to buy but did not want my representation on (I have helped her and two family members buy a couple of homes). Zillow, however, had told her the "best way" to negotiate. But, she had a few questions apparently Zillow didn't cover. From that point forward, I have been cautious what I tell her. It doesn't matter anyway. She believes Zillow, Trulia and RedFin. They know everything.

Recently, someone down the street put their home on the market. Trish, who keeps tabs on this sort of thing called me all excited. "What do you think of the price?" Truly, I had no idea. I had never been in the house. I knew nothing about it. We live in a custom neighborhood, not a tract housing development. Every home is different. When I told her the above, she didn't buy it. So, I went with my gut and gave her the price I thought the home was worth, based on the little information I had. My price was $20k under the asking price.

The home sold for the price I quoted, by the way.

Last week, Trish called me again. Some other neighbor is putting their home on the market. This time for $40k more than the home that recently sold. What did I think? So, based on nothing more than a price, I gave my opinion. The new home going on the market was over-priced. There was already a comparable home, in a better location on our street that sold for $40k less. And I was at the grocery store, could I call her back?

For whatever reason she found my limited opinion unsettling. She started countering with all she knew about this fabulous home. It has an upgraded widget that runs the somethingorother. It has a flux capacitor. It has an underground bunker with a tunnel that leads to Wal-Mart. And all sorts of other tid-bits that really have no bearing on what I might think of the price. Frankly, it sounded a lot like the home that just sold, except this new home backs a major traffic artery that runs through my city.

The truth is, the price is dictated by what someone will pay for a home. It is all supply and demand. If there is a loan on the home, then the appraiser gets involved and goes by past and present data to estimate value. All they want to do is justify the price the buyer wants to pay.

In my case, it was my day off. I had other pressing issues--like feeding my children. In fact, on this particular day, I just wanted to get off the phone. I know Trish wants to talk pretty homes with me but she will believe whatever she wants anyway, so I don't want to talk shop with her. Besides, I have done no research on this particular property and above all, I was at the grocery store and just didn't care what the price of the home might be.

*To be fair, Trish calls me about other non-real estate things too but not on this particular day.

Diamond Jim

Diamond Jim has been my accountant for fourteen years. He has been my friend for slightly less time. We became friends though an odd happenstance. I found out about an injustice that was happening to him and alerted the AZ Attorney General's Office and a few other, well meaning folks. He didn't ask me to get involved, but I know he appreciated me jumping in at such an overwhelming time.

When his grandchildren were reading Harry Potter, he called, asked me what the hoopla was all about and I met with him for breakfast on several occasions for a Harry Potter book club.  Many years ago, when he decided to permanently go back to Oregon, where his missus currently lived (and where he was a resident when tax season wasn't in session), I helped him sell their home here in Mesa. That was an ordeal I would prefer to forget, but I got to know Diamond Jim Junior from the experience.

When Diamond Jim's same wife of many, many years passed away and he decided to, once again, leave Oregon and move back to Mesa, I helped him find another house. It was another painful process, and I ended up losing my entire commission to a fellow friend and agent. In the end, Diamond Jim Junior, corralled his father, and kept a lot of folks from strangling Diamond Jim, and thus going to jail. As much as I adore Diamond Jim, he is probably, by far, the worst client I have ever had. When he bought his house, I told him, "You are never moving!" I also relayed that message to his son.

By the way, Marty Sunshine and Buckaroo went up to Oregon with Diamond Jim to help him pack up and drive the U-Haul back to Mesa. A drive that was epic by its own right. Polly cleans his house. Marty fixes his computer every few months. I eat breakfast with him about two to three times a month. Buckaroo helps him in his yard. He isn't just my accountant. He is a family friend.

This past tax season was a tough one for Diamond Jim. My taxes alone took from February 1 (when I gave him my paperwork) to May 5 (when the vein in my forehead was ready to pop from this tax season). I have heard from other clients of his that they had just as harrowing and mind-numbing experiences this tax season too. In fact, this tax season was so difficult for him that I hear Diamond Jim's clients all got audited--I know I did. Around early May, I called Diamond Jim Junior to express my concerns--though I was no doctor--I was pretty sure he was in the early stages of dementia. Junior knew everything I was going to say, as I wasn't the first phone call he had received.

Through the summer, Junior and I kept in touch. When I called him once to tell him things had gotten worse and his father had started asking Marty for help using the IRS.gov Web site, Junior told me he and his sister have talked to Diamond Jim until there were no more words. At this point, they were stepping back. Diamond Jim didn't want help and was belligerent when the topic came up that something might be wrong with him. He was adamant he was fine and as far as he was concerned, his children were picking on him. Junior stated to me that until Diamond Jim was a danger to himself, others, or property there was nothing he or his sister could do anyway. We ended the call with me saying, "You have six months. Max."

Three weeks ago, Diamond Jim's brother called Junior. There were more problems. Diamond Jim had caused some sort of drama. Junior called me. Did I have an update on his father's condition? I told him, "Your six months are up."

The next day, Diamond Jim stopped by. Somehow he had lost my number, though it was on his phone. He told me his kids decided to come from their respective states and were coming to visit. He was afraid they would tell him he was "cracking up." Somehow, I was tactful enough to say something along the lines of it was time he seek help. We all want to treat him with dignity. But he is perpetuating a lie by not owning up to the reality of a tough situation. It was a difficult chat, and when he left I felt absolutely horrible.

Today I met with Diamond Jim, Junior, and Little Sister. I am listing Diamond Jim's home in a few weeks. Diamond Jim is going North, to an assisted living center somewhere near his son. It broke my heart to walk through his home, like he wasn't there, giving advice on staging and packing. Diamond Jim for the most part, took it in stride (though he mentally checked out a couple of times). We all wanted him to have his dignity as he goes through this change in his life. I wish him the best.

Betrayed

I have not slept well this week. And yes, it is because of the real estate transaction where I begged for prepossession. However, it isn't because my clients are living in a home they don't own.

Three weeks ago I called the loan officer and said, "Ok, when should we expect the VA eligibility form?" I was told "any day."

I called every day for a status update. I was told everything was fine and we were on track to close October 23.

Two weeks ago I called at 4:30 only to be told the VA eligibility form hadn't been issued. Of course, being it was 4:30 on Friday, nobody with any authority (my loan officer and processor) bothered to do anything. And worse, they left me to tell the client.

Last week I negotiated a prepossession and confirmed with the loan officer this would close by November 13. When I asked for updates this week, the loan officer refused to give a timeline. When I pointed out the title offices are closed on Veteran's Day, he didn't seem to think this was an issue. In fact, he countered by telling me his underwriter is working that day.

"Why is it important if the underwriter is working that day? Title is closed. We should be done with underwriting before Friday November 9. It should be at title by then, per what you told me last week." I e-mailed him. I got no reply.

This past week, on Monday, I was told "everything is on track" (sans the down payment) except the underwriter hadn't signed off on the appraisal. I wrote an e-mail, asking for clarification: "what do you mean the underwriter hasn't signed off on the appraisal????" My loan officer said, "no big deal." And then did nothing to find out why this hadn't happened.

3 p.m. yesterday I found out there is a problem with the appraisal. My loan officer called me. He explained--while on speaker phone, I guess, in case I got ugly (I didn't)--the new appraisal is now on a rush and will be delivered by Monday.

I asked the loan officer to call my clients, no OUR clients, and let them know. The chickenshit e-mailed them.

The appraiser is supposed to call me. It is :10:45 on Friday morning and the appraisal has a rush for Monday.

Why I am not sleeping, and I just figured this out, is because I have worked with this loan officer and his processor for 12 years. Never, NEVER have they dropped the ball. This particular sale has been one lame excuse from them after another. I realized at 4 a.m. I felt betrayed. I recommended him. My client's money and living arrangements are at stake. I don't think I can get the sellers to cooperate much longer. The sellers were hell-bent on this closing by November 3, today. I can't blame them. The buyer's side looks like clowns because of my loan officer. And he doesn't seem to care.


Update: At 11:30 Friday, I asked my loan officer to investigate why I hadn't gotten a call from the appraiser. I was told it was "under control." I pushed until I got an e-mail from the loan processor saying "you should be getting a phone call any moment now." Instead, I got an e-mail from the appraisal company offering me times next week for the appraisal to be conducted. Pushing back again, I finally got some appraisal dude named Nate to go out and do the appraisal Friday afternoon. I explained the urgency to him and that he (the appraiser) was paid for a rush so this is to be in the loan officer's hands by Monday. The loan officer also called Nate and reiterated the entire THIS IS A RUSH. Anyway, Nate says we will get the appraisal by Tuesday maybe. Or perhaps on Wednesday. 

A $2.79 Sink Stopper

It seems like it was only days ago when I was writing about the list of items buyers want replaced when they are buying a home. Oh... and you folks thought I was exaggerating? Today I just got the list of requested repairs from the buying side of the sale I am on. I am representing the seller.

The buyers are asking for--and I am not making this up--the sink stopper in the master bedroom to be replaced. It was the second item on the list, right above, "tighten down the master bathroom toilet." I set a text to the agent asking if the sink stopper was a deal breaker.

She responded back, "Yes," but I don't believe her.