Open Houses and Scaring the Neighbors

Last night my realtor pal, Sally, held what is known as a "Broker's Open." It is a fancy way of saying an open house for real estate agents, and let's be real here, any potential buyer who walks through the door. There was wine, cheese, crackers nuts and grapes served and Sally insisted I eat something, so I took a grape.

Confession: big, fancy homes don't impress me any more. This one was impressive. But there comes a time when one has seen just about everything out there.

Located in Chandler, it had an in-law wing that had been turned into two extra bedrooms and an exercise space. There were also three additional bedrooms and a fancy kitchen. My feedback to Sally was to remove the scorpion traps by the garage door. She will get an offer in the next week, I am sure.

I took Jane with me as well. We made it a girl's night, by stopping by and chatting with Sally, eating our grapes and filling out feedback forms Sally could give to her owners. Then we went to grab a quick bite. After we were done I dragged her to two grocery stores, because they were on the way and I didn't want to go out this weekend.

Jane and Mr. Jane are looking to buy a home. They want the East Valley. On the way back to her car, at 9:30 at night, I drove her through some neighborhoods that might work for her. She got to see what was there with my high beams illuminating the dark. This worked as well for her as it did for the neighbors who were out walking around enjoying the cooler evening, giving us wary looks as we cruised slowly down these quiet streets. At one point, after watching this poor woman jump out of her skin while walking her dog, we gave up. It was the third time I had seen her frantically cross the street as we drove by. No reason to frighten Jane's possible neighbors.

An Unexpected Vacation

Michigan in the Summer

Bonus Dad gave me a shout while I was out with the kids today. When was I coming to visit? That is a good question. You see Bonus Dad lives in Phoenix most of the year. About four months of the year he lives in a teensy town in Michigan on a lake.

Three years ago, when Bonus Mom got ill, I jumped on the plane and went to take care of her. It was my first trip up there in all the years they had been inviting me. For many reasons, I am sorry I waited so long. The following year Buckaroo and I went up there to keep Bonus Dad company as we all mourned her death from two months earlier. Last year I went up there for her memorial.

Though I am not unhappy about spending some time with one of my favorite people, I wasn't expecting to go back this year. Polly and I are still tossing around a time to make it to Montana. But right now it seems I need to squeeze in another trip. Polly, by the way, is totally ok with this. And let's face it, Northern Michigan isn't exactly a horrible way to spend a summer afternoon.

Fan Girl Follies

For those of you who don't know me, I am quite shy. A friend once said of me, I was the only person she knew who could comfortably live on a deserted island with a stack of books and not ever feel the least bit lonely. Even without the books, she's right. I do like people. But I prefer to interact with people in very controlled settings.

I bring this up because last week Mrs. Hufflepuff's brokerage was hosting someone from the real estate world I have often admired. Several months ago, he spoke at the WCR installation of officers. I heard him speak then. He was worth the price of admission. But that wasn't the first time I heard him speak.

Back in 2002, when I was writing for the real estate magazine while chasing one toddler and dealing with morning sickness 24 hours a day, I had the pleasure to interview this man. It is probably my all-time favorite interview, which is saying something because there may have been a teensy and extremely humiliating morning sickness issue that got the best of me. Our interview back then lasted much longer than it should have. I didn't care, I really enjoyed visiting with him. I left wanting to hear more.

He isn't the reason I became an agent, but talking to him that day 17 years ago sure was encouraging.

Anyway, when I heard Mr. F. was talking at Jane's office last week I invited myself along. There were about eight of us, and he provided a semi-private class on selling that I ate up. Other than Mr. F., I had been in the business longer than anyone in that room, but it was a learning experience nonetheless.

When it was over, he asked me why I came. After all, I didn't belong to this brokerage. I told him how I interviewed him all those years ago. Fortunately he didn't remember the unfortunate morning sickness. I shared with him that I always kept an eye on his career (which sounds a lot more creepy than I meant it to be). And when I interviewed him, I left that meeting elevated and inspired--which is exactly how I left last week's class with him too.

After the class was over, Mr. F., asked Jane to take a picture of the two of us. Jane told me if I didn't post it on Facebook, she would. And damn! She wasn't kidding. I insisted she take it down Sunday night. She agreed only if I had the picture up by Monday night.

When I posted it, I instantly broke out into nervous hives. I may be a fan girl of Mr. F's--and I really am--but I am still a shy fan girl who regularly questions why I chose such a social field to go into.

I Was Just Asking for a New Slumber Room for Aunt Mildred and Uncle Monty

Those brass faucets!

My real estate pal, John, and I held a house open last week for an agent friend of his. His friend met us there and then left. The dude is one of those car-sales types that has no respect for anyone who doesn't kiss his butt. I doubt he will ever ask me to hold his house open again, and that won't hurt my feelings.

What I am here to tell you is about the house. Located on 130th Street in Scottsdale, it is probably about $20k under what it should be listed for. There is a good reason for that: It was tastefully decorated in 1988. Imagine if you will, beige, beige, and beige. Couple that with travertine tile and 1988 brass fixtures. I swear it looked like something you could have pulled out of Vegas' Venician Hotel back in the day.

The listing has been on the market for 30 days, which is ancient history in this market. I asked the agent if he were open to feedback he could provide the seller. He said "Yes," but turns out he really meant, "NO!" I thought if the appliances should be updated (black, 1988) and perhaps, maybe six or seven of the gloomy 4' x 5' portraits on the walls were taken down, it might make the home feel a bit more inviting. You know, if Scooby and the Gang didn't need them, the seller could probably keep up the other 17 if necessary...

That didn't go over well. The agent explained he already cleared out so much stuff in this home. So, buyers could just deal with the pictures. That would just be the way it would be.

Fair enough, it isn't my listing.

Also I suggested (and John immediately jumped in and agreed) that perhaps the shrine containing Aunt Mildred and Uncle Monty could be moved away from the front door and perhaps into an unused bedroom. And if the seller were willing to move them, perhaps they also might be willing to remove the garish angel statues watching over them? The agent wasn't open to this either, so I stopped.

When people did come into the home, John or I would purposely stand in front of the shrine, allowing the folks to take in all the gloomy pictures. We figured if potential buyers had to look somewhere, the portraits were a better selling point than the shrine.

Here is the listing description by the way. I am not sure what I think of it. I do think he might have mentioned the pool was heated, plantation shutters and granite countertops. But, then again, I rarely sell homes in Scottsdale, so what do I know.

If the pillared window and beautiful front door didn't catch your eye, wait until you enter this elegant home. Walk through the doorway to find a tiled entry way with a cozy living area and pillared dining area. Walk through the arch to find a large kitchen which overlooks a family room and fireplace. The kitchen, with lots of storage space, has a gorgeous breakfast bar/island, elegant countertops, and a desk nook. 3 bedrooms are down the hall, one of which being a homey master with another fireplace. The open bathroom features a walk in closet, private toilet room, walk in shower, double sinks, and a tiled soaking tub. The master room, and the family room, have sliding glass door access to the spectacular backyard, complete with pool, patio, and spa. .This 3 car garage home stunning

The Deal of the Decade

I should preface this by saying I am not involved in this "sale."

So, here is Inga's grand idea.

She has independently found a 1975 mobile home and she is in love.

Here are the facts. Barry bought the property with seller financing from Maurice back in 1993 for $48,000. Barry died some time ago, leaving $10,000 left on the mortgage. He gave the property to Maria, who has been making payments but there is no will and title has not transferred. Therefore, she has been paying the mortgage of a dead man.

Maurice died recently, leaving the property to his niece Elizabeth. There is no will and she claims she is owed the rest of the mortgage. She is collecting money for a trailer she does not own from someone who doesn't owe it.

Additionally, Maria, who lives in the property, owes the water company upwards of $5,000. She also owes the owner of the land (because it is in a mobile home park) $10,000.

Maria wants Inga to pay off the water and the land lease and take over the payments of a mobile home that she does not own.

So let me recap. The owners are dead. Maria lives there without legal claim. She wants to sell it and have someone pay her incurred debt as well as take over the payments she is not legally responsible for making. Maria is paying Elizabeth, who also does not have legal claim and is not owed a penny. They both are saying this mobile home belongs to them. The tax records say otherwise.

Inga asked me what she should do, but first she said, "Don't tell me to run. That's the only advice I don't want."

I said run. Don't look back. This is not the only home out there at this price (actually, it probably is), but there is a reason the price is so low. Maria doesn't own the home she is trying to sell and has no authorization to sell it. Plus, it is quite possible the mobile home park has put a lien on the property. And while we are at it, why should Inga pay Maria's late payments? I didn't check to see if the taxes had been paid, but let's be real. Also, the trailer is more than 40 years old and may possibly have 40 year old issues. Let it go. Move on, before Inga gives her life savings to this woman and never hears from her again. Barring ignoring me which, let's face it, she will, seek the counsel of a real estate attorney (who will also tell her to run).

Inga Called

Inga called me. She "needs" to buy a house was what she left on my voice mail. I did text her, telling her I would call her tomorrow.

Last week she announced that she had signed a lease on an apartment. Plus, last I heard she didn't have a job, nor was her taxes filed. So, I am pretty sure she doesn't qualify for a loan. Also, I know how much money she got back from her home, which she split with Liam. So, unless she is buying a used mobile home for cash somewhere in the desert, she isn't buying anything.

Yea... I just figured this out. I bet it is a used mobile home. Oh dear.

I suspect I will be referring this one out

.

Jane's Creepy Appointment

I should begin with Jane, just like myself, was uprooted the few months between grade school and high school and dragged unceremoniously to a new life. In her case, it was a small town in Northern Arizona. Unlike me, she only went to two high schools. We met up again when we both came back to the high school we were supposed to have started at for our Junior and Senior years.

The back story is to tell you about Jane's adventure last week. She drug me along and I am kind of glad she did, after all, I wouldn't have anything to write about. Anyway, Jane got a facebook message from someone she knew in her first high school. She has not heard from this guy in 35+ years. He now lives in Phoenix and has equity in his home and wants to know what to do.

Carl greeted us in this questionable West Phoenix neighborhood with a big smile and a squeeze for Jane and a look of astonishment for me. He is in the middle of a divorce ("My ex thought she could just quit working and stay home all day, so I kicked her out."). Carl showed us around his house, as we picked our way delicately through the nightmare of hoarded junk scattered everywhere ("It's the ex's".) while he waxed nostalgically with Jane about their two years of knowing each other until 1984. I could tell Jane didn't recall 90 percent of the people or memories he mentioned, but that didn't stop him from merrily chatting about the good old days.

His house is one of those cookie cutter types that were slapped up in the early 2000s (note: don't buy homes built in that era, folks). The place was pitch black inside, and that was after the curtains were open. Seriously, I don't think that house had been cleaned since the early 2000s. The back yard was an interesting homage to the Oklahoma dust bowl, with more dust and not a live plant in sight.

Carl's current plan is to take his home and convert it into a rental. He said he owned it outright (he doesn't) and it is a "gold mine." He then wants to buy several more and do the same with them. Except his credit has a teensy issue ("My ex did this to me!"). Plus, he needs to get the money together to clean and repair his current home. Then he needs the money to purchase a place to live, so he's thinking, "a few months."

While all of this was going on, Carl engaged Jane in stories about how he is "moving on" from his future ex-wife and when was the last time she saw the "gang?" (She said she doesn't really keep in touch with anyone from those two years, except now Carl, who found her on FB). And had Jane done something different with her hair since they last saw each other? (It was longer, redder and poofier back in the 1980s).

The only time I interjected was to tell him I was gravely concerned about the amount of chemicals I could see in the proximity of the gas hot water heater. We couldn't get to them, mind you, without scaling a mountain of metal, trash and whoknowswhatelse, but clearly, this was a significant fire hazard in the making. Carl ignored me and kept on chatting up Jane.

Our biggest hiccup on this tour came when I opened up Carl's adult son's room. Right there, sitting in plain sight was a crap-ton of blank real estate forms. Jane casually asked about them and Carl's answer was, "My son is a realtor." Yea... like Carl is going to hire Jane when his flesh and blood, living in Carl's home is a licensed agent.

As we left, I said, "Sweetie, this isn't going to happen." I was referring to Carl and Jane becoming an item. But she took it as helping Carl with real estate. We are both right.

With My Luck, The 2021 Conference Will Be Held in Phoenix

While I was on vacation, Jane was dealing with a bit'o drama on the Woman's Counsel of Realtors. It is one of the many reasons I don't see a need for this group to exist. Actually, there is one redeeming item. Travel. There's a lot of travel that seems to happen with this crowd. I mean, Boston, San Fran, Washington DC, etc., all on the dime of the WCR.

Now then, back to the drama. If I may, imagine a really bad Disney tween television show with a predictable plot. Sprinkle in the hurt feelings stemming from a 13 year old girls' slumber party and a smattering of Peyton Place. Stir it all up, and voila! Stupid drama that should never have existed.

Anyway, there appears to be a sudden and immediate opening for President Elect for next year. Jane is running. I predicted this, she denied it and apparently then changed her mind. Dear Jane (if she wins, which she probably will) will be the Grand Poohbah of the WCR come 2021.

Back when I predicted she would run (and she denied), I even magnanimously offered to join the group if she won the Grand Poohbah elect. You would think after 51 years on this Earth I could figure out how to keep my mouth shut, but I guess not.

Jane now tells me not only do I need to join, but she is expecting me to be one of her officers in 2021. "Why?" I whined. "Because, I said so." Was Jane's bossy reply. "Besides, you will keep the drama down," she added.

Yes that might be possible. But only if I learn to keep my mouth shut between now and then.

Well Darn!

I am on vacation from my vacation. You know the time: the space between when one arrives home to the time it takes to get all the laundry done and life moving in the right direction. It is a time of structured chaos and creativity.

Given the week before my vacation I was dealing with a dying dog, Inga and Liam and a myriad of other poorly-timed life events, it is a reasonable assumption that daily chores were put on hold. What that really meant was I missed the Community Outreach Meeting.

To be fair, I was not planning on going to it anyway. The exact time of the meeting just happened to coincide to a really, really cool meeting I am not at liberty to discuss yet. (Squee!!!!) But soon.

Now that I am back, it is once again time for the Community Outreach Meeting. However, I am not making this one either. I have lots of other Adventures in Life to attack this week while I take care of my vacation from my vacation. Plus, I may have accidentally scheduled a breakfast date with a friend for that exact time. I am not sorry about that either.

Note: After I wrote this I found out that Muffy cancelled the Community Outreach Meetings until August. It is just to hot to be unpleasant and autocratic. Or something. 

The Good Adventures

There Are No Truer Words

Lest you think my life is one big complaint. It is not. Let's face it, I was dealing with Inga and Liam while I was here.

I was here. And it was totally awesome!

The weird, the obscure or the downright annoying adventures in real estate make better blog fodder than the fun little Adventures I didn't mention. Here are some of the fun ones that happened while I was gone: 

1. A past client e-mailed me. She wanted to know where the water shut-off valve was for her house. She bought this house in 2011-ish. I had no earthly idea, but I helped her locate it. 

2. I had a listing presentation a few days before I left. Those folks contacted me to wish me a fun trip. They told me they will be calling Dave the Flooring Guy for a quote on new carpet. 

3. Ari the Felon sent me pictures of his house, updated with new paint and with new flooring--thanks to Dave the Flooring Guy. 

4. I had a listing appointment about three weeks before I left (you may remember the stoned cat from last month?). They contacted me to tell me things were underway. By the way, Dave the Flooring Guy is giving them a quote. 

5. Another sale I have is going swimmingly. That client had no reason to contact me at all while I was on my trip. However, we talked right after I got back, though I am not quite sure they knew my exact vacation dates anyway. They had a question, which suddenly came up and needed a quick answer. They would have called sooner if they needed anything. 

They did not scream at me or blame me for their life choices. They were pleasant and did not manufacture drama or refuse to take care of simple items just for the sake of drawing attention to themselves. They didn't throw tantrums about events they were responsible for creating or lie to me about circumstances which needed no lie to begin with. They did not whine or garner sympathy for everyday life events we all face. They adulted. They are a dream. 

Bonus 

6. A past client called me to ask if adding a shed would augment the value to his home (No. But it might be a nice feature when he goes to sell). 

That last one probably doesn't count. It was my brother. But he did call me specifically to ask this. I believe the reality around that is he wants a shed and is trying to sell the idea to his wife.  

By the way, I also talked to the same brother's wife (who I suppose is also a past client). She and I chatted all about my niece and nephews. We talked nothing of real estate. That was fun too. 

Closing Ceremonies

In a moment of serendipity, the buyer's agent on Liam and Inga's sale asked if they could close early.

Inga and Liam were happy to oblige. I was thrilled beyond belief! This could be done before I got back from vacation. Oh happy day!

An addendum was drawn up, moving the closing date. The buyer's agent told the title officer Liam and Inga would need to sign it at the title office when they came in, as I was in the middle of nowhere, had little cell service and no Internet. When I arrived in the first Podunk town where my cell worked, I called the title officer, repeating: please have Inga and Liam sign this when they come in to sign their closing documents. The title officer pleasantly agreed.

Then the title officer blew it off and Liam and Inga did not sign an addendum changing the close of escrow. This was discovered around noon the day of closing. There was plenty of time to get this taken care of. After all, Liam and Inga live four miles from the title office.

Of course, nothing with these two are ever as simple as, "just drive back over there and sign it." Oh no.

Liam refused--using four letter words--to drive back over to the title office. He yelled that he would find a snowball in Phoenix in June before he would do this.

So let's get this straight: In an effort for a pleasant and easy closing he was not willing to spend a half hour of his life, driving over to the title office, hold a pen for 35 seconds and drive home.

I asked if it was a schedule conflict. No. Was he otherwise occupied? No. He just wouldn't. No matter what. It didn't even matter that he signed a document at the title office hours earlier that said he would cooperate if title made any mistake and comply immediately. It didn't matter that he could have his sale proceeds asap. It would have to send it for electronic signature or we just wouldn't close.

In an effort to keep the peace, I asked the title officer if she would just send it for an electronic signature. What does she do? She just sends them a PDF and says "print this, sign it, scan it and send it back." That made it so I got to spend another twenty minutes spelling it out to her: these folks are moving. The printer and scanner are packed. Please, if you would, just send it as a docusign.

The title officer also dug her heels in. After all, why can't anyone in this particular transaction be the least bit accommodating? I may have used my Big Girl Designated Broker voice and said something along those lines as well as offering to have a discussion with those in management if she couldn't make this happen.

But I said it nicer, I swear.

And finally, to get me off the phone, she agreed to log into MY docusign and send this to my clients. What I gathered from our phone call is she didn't want to look bad and admit to management she missed a really, really big paper for the seller to sign. I could take the hit as the incompetent one. Sometimes it is better to be done with bozos than look great, so I let her access my account and password (which has now been changed) so that she could set this up. I then texted Liam and Inga they were going to get their docusign. They could even do it on the phone.

One might think all was now wonderful. Inga and Liam would be signing. I would have peace and close this sale. But nope. Inga at that moment decided to be helpless and sent me 500 text messages. She can't possibly sign this from her phone. Her messages become more and more crazed, she has no computer. She can't make docusign work from her phone and whatever shall she do? I happen to know she has used docusign many times from her phone. Simply, she was refusing to cooperate.

In the end, I wrote her back, "Find a computer. This is a happy problem."

Unfortunately, it didn't stop the endless barrage of pretend-helpless text messages from her.

Liam signed right away. Then he blew up my phone and e-mail with "I signed. Give me my money," as if I personally held the equity to his home and could stop somewhere on I-10 and strap a check on the back of a roadrunner to get to him. Incidentally, Inga was with him and near the computer Liam had just used--I know this because I heard her in the background of several of his voice mails. So while he is blowing up my phone, she is texting me saying, "I can't possibly do this."

Their stupid passive aggressive game, which is all it really was, went on for hours. I turned off my phone.

The house closed at 4:49 p.m. last Friday. Had they been cooperative, the title officer could have cut their check hours earlier. But because of their own manufactured drama, they got to wait the entire weekend to see their proceeds.

That night, Inga sent me a note: "Sorry I was so hard on you." I didn't respond. But, I did mute hers and Liam's numbers. I have nothing polite to say to them.

The other Inga and Liam Story

So Liam was hell-bent I sell his house for $240,000 and not a penny less. I showed him comps and explained it just wasn’t worth that much. Nor would he consider for a moment that it has a weird floor plan, deferred maintenance, hasn’t been upgraded since 1993 and the vinyl flooring is torn in multiple places and that also might affect the price. Liam disagreed because he heard from someone who was on Zillow that his house was worth much more than $240,000 and that was the least he would take. 

Inga was slightly more realistic and told me to price it at what I thought was right. We agreed (in writing) that if after one week she didn’t get an offer, we would lower the price. Inga repeatedly told me she needed the home sold quickly and not for “top dollar”.  I showed her the exact same comps I sent Liam, and explained she could probably expect $217,000 but I would be happy to go a little bit higher because it had a new HVAC system and new carpet. I listed it for $227,000.

We got a super-clean offer the second day on the market for $225,000. Liam and Inga both thanked me.

Then Inga fired me over the whole HVAC receipt and how she was going to prison debacle. Then, all of the sudden, Liam starts e-mailing me six times a day. This is significant because I hadn’t heard from Liam at all since the house went on the market and every message prior to these were polite and friendly. 

Anyway, Liam started sending me repeated e-mails: what did the house appraise for? Seems strange the house sold so fast? Was the price too low?  Is that why it sold so fast? After all, Zillow said… Maybe I was just running some sort of scam? No answer I provided satisfied him. He would not let up, and his phone calls, texts and e-mails were hourly if I was lucky, which I usually wasn't. It didn't matter that my answer was, "I have called the agent, and as soon as I find out, I will let you know." When I didn't answer he called again. And again. And again. And e-mailed me. His messages were each less than pleasant than the last. I turned off my phone finally and he called Jane. 

May I just stop here: I am paid when a sale closes. I am paid a commission as a portion of the sales price (which Jane is taking a chunk of). So a higher price means a higher paycheck for me. I have everything to gain if this home sells for more than I think it should. But I also believe that having a sign in the yard for months on end, just tells people the house is overpriced. Why would I want my name associated with that?

Anyway, generally the buyer’s agent doesn’t normally pass along the appraised value of the house to the sellers (especially if the buyer paid for the appraisal). But in this case, Liam was getting feisty. Then I started to wonder if I made a mistake. I consider myself REALLY competent on pricing homes, but gas-lighting manipulatives have a way to make sane folks second guess themselves. Besides, nothing was quelling Liam’s hourly insistent and thinly veiled threats that I dumped the house in a fire sale. 

The agent did share with me. The house appraised for $225,000. I wish it would have been worth more, for everyone’s sake. Liam can now rest easy and take his equity and spend it on something other than suing me.

Vacation Issues

I am writing this while sitting in a beach cottage on the Gulf Coast somewhere on an island in Florida. I wish I had internet. But, that doesn’t come with free lodging. 

My vacation has been more or less wonderful. Jane—God bless her—has been dealing with a lot of my administrative tasks back home. She gets part of my commission for a week’s worth of phone calls, e-mails and text messages from Liam and Inga she has had to manage. She has earned every penny of it and I only wish I could pay her more and have her do this on a regular basis.

I will spare you the majority of details of the last two weeks of Inga’s batshittery. But Damn! That woman is one emotionally needy manipulative witch. Inga’s house went into escrow precisely 36 hours after it went on the market. The offer was glorious, more than one could expect—and in their case, should expect. The repairs should have been simple. And we should be on our way to closing right about now. But unfortunately, Inga just can’t pack up her worldly belongings and just move out like a normal seller. Nope.

In the past two weeks Jane has been fired twice by Inga. I have been fired once, but I completely ignored her. Jane was going to find Inga a place to live but Inga has sufficiently burned that bridge. My passive-aggressive self wants this sale to fall through so I can fire her ass. But it looks like it will close. I am crossing my fingers Inga is really, truly moving out.

One of the biggest dramas has centered around something so small and bizarre, that it took some time to see the big picture. In this case, I believe I was lied to and so was everyone else. Instead of clarifying or owning their choices, they went on to make more bad choices. There are some people in the world who make bad choices and then own them. There are others who make a bad choice, don’t want to look bad in the eyes of society so they make a series of other bad choices to cover them up. It is a sit-com writer’s dream.

Inga is a living, breathing sit-com, if she were someone else’s problem right now.

In this case, the issue that has been making my head spin was over the one month old HVAC system. The buyer asked for it to be serviced because the inspector couldn’t get the heat to work. And before I go on, please note, when it is over 90 degrees outside, nobody can get the heat to work. However, as I have explained to every human being I have encountered in the past two weeks, Inga’s unit should be under warranty. So, just have the company who installed it go out there and certify it works. After all, there is a warranty? Right?

It took about three days of Inga constantly calling me and texting me (and then calling and texting Jane with the exact questions—doesn’t she think Jane and I are going to talk??) to figure out the “New HVAC” was probably not as professionally installed as I was led to believe. And guess what? I advertised it as a one month old unit because that is what I was told. Now, I don’t know this to be fact, but all of the sudden Liam and Inga just can’t seem to figure out who installed it and who to call to get it serviced. Nor can they provide a receipt for the installation. And suddenly the info is packed in a box at the bottom of the garage and Inga and Liam just can’t get to that box (but they demanded Jane to drive 45 miles over and find it).

This entire ordeal—getting a “new” AC serviced and a receipt provided—took 10 days of constant drama. “What will happen if we don’t get it serviced?” (“Why wouldn’t you service it? If this sale falls through, you will still need to get the unit working properly. Besides! you agreed to get it serviced. If you weren’t willing to do so, why did you agree to it?”) “I am not sure I have the time to take care of this." (“Not a problem, have Liam come over and wait for the AC guy. He is retired” and you aren’t working.) “This is really complicated. Why do we need to provide proof we had this done?” (“Two reasons: first you said it was newly installed and it should work properly and second because right now I think you are lying to me and I am not losing my license over your deception.”—Ok, I didn’t add that last part.)

Every single day for 10 days this woman kept me on the phone WHILE I WAS ON MY VACATION whining about having to have a relatively new HVAC unit serviced. In the time it took her to bug me, she could have just called an HVAC service company. Most of the time I let it go to voice mail. When she couldn’t get in touch with me, she turned on to Jane. The list of what is wrong with Inga’s house should have been much longer. This was the only item. THE ONLY ONE!!!! And frankly, it is an easy fix. If the guy who installed the unit won't verify it works, find someone to service the HVAC so it does work.

This past Monday, I explained to her (again) there are tons of HVAC companies in the greater Phoenix metro area, find one who will service the unit. The buyer needs the receipt for proof. Please! Just get it done. When she (again) asked "Why does this need to happen?" I explained I was trying to keep her out of court because she agreed in writing to have the damn thing serviced. So, get it serviced and provide me a receipt that has a legitimate HVAC Company name and ROC number. On this receipt have the technician write out that the unit works properly. That’s all she has to do. And THAT IS WHAT SHE AGREED TO DO!

And what does Inga do? She texts Jane and says I threatened to have her arrested.

Then Inga texts me and says Jane tells her I am out of line.

Then Inga tells me I am fired and to never contact her again for any reason. 

Oh... if only that were a possibility. She has a house in escrow.

By the way, the receipt I finally received said they paid $75 to have the unit serviced and a skilled technician certified it worked.

Bad MLS Pictures Again

I need a vacation. Did I mention that?

It isn't that the homes are quirky, it is that the selling agent thinks that showing these personality quirks will endear a buyer to want to make an offer.

The home is equipped with ceiling fans. 

Another house. Another ceiling fan. I am sorry the agent didn't
show the rest of the room/garage.
Really sorry. 

 Sometimes less is more. For example, why not just take an exterior picture
and write "Investor Special" in the description? 

I am of the mind, some things are better left to the imagination. 

Confession: I looked at this picture and it took me a few
before I figured out why it looked so strange. 

Sigh... 

And finally, I am just going to leave you with this. 

I Can't Decide If I Want to First Pick Apart the Logic, Grammar or Punctuation

I first got involved in real estate in 1998 when Marty and I were looking to purchase our first home. We would drive around, grabbing flyers from homes for sale. Once in a while we would actually be interested in the content of said flyer, but not usually. Back then, real estate flyers weren't terribly sophisticated and I took exception to any home advertising with misspellings and (heaven forbid) grammar errors. We newlyweds would blissfully drive around while I ranted about Oxford commas, the word "thru" (WHICH ISN'T A WORD) and unparalleled sentences. Don't even get me started on suspension points (which are those overused "...").

To be fair, I have considerably relaxed my standards over the years. I am the first to tell you my writing is often riddled with errors. Also, agents have gotten much better at advertising properties. Long gone are the colorful paper with misused bold and underlined fonts--at least in Arizona. 

A quick back story: I used to own homes in a place we euphemistically refer to in these parts as,  "West Georgia." West Georgia actually has worse schools than Arizona. If you don't believe me, please feel free to read the letter I received below. I blocked out the greeting, but she called me by my first name.  

I don't own the house this letter was referencing, nor was this her second attempt to reach me. Did you notice she needs to close three this week but she is telling me it will take 14 days to close if I am willing to sell it to her at below market value? 

I am sure you did.