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.