Fabulous

My pal Scotty, an agent in another state, sent me a quick text: "Can you refer me to an agent in Northern Arizona?" Real quick, Scotty has a client moving from Northern Arizona. That particular client made a deal with the devil to sell their home. It worked out as it should when you shake hands with satan, and I coached Scotty how he could advise his client to get out of the contract. Now the client is out, and still needs an agent to sell their home. 

Anyway, I put a note out on the super-secret Arizona Real Estate Facebook group saying, "If you are a fabulous agent in Northern Arizona call me," and I included my phone number.  I put my phone number down, because I wasn't going to monitor Facebook for the next three hours, chasing down real estate agents. If they were interested in working, they could call me. 

You'd be amazed at the number of fabulous agents in Northern Arizona who cannot follow basic directions. Either that, perhaps this group of fabulous agents didn't really want to work. Of the twenty or so who responded with, "I'm a fabulous agent! Pick me!!!" only two called. Those two were the names I gave Scotty.  

Public Service Announcement

Pulleeeze look into long term medical care insurance. Or, make an informed plan NOW about your long term medical plan and convey your wishes in writing to those who matter so they can follow your plan. 

Your children will thank you. 

Experience Tells Me

I had lunch with my Broker Pal, Sally this past week. I ran a scenario by her to see what she thought. 

Here is the scenario: 

• Cute little condo was vacant. 
• The buyer walk-through for the cute little condo was on August 27. At that time, all the spare keys were left inside the property. 
• The title company told my sellers as well as me on several occasions that the buyer was anxious to close by August 31. That was our original close of escrow date. 
• I went on a (supposed to be) two and a half week vacation August 27. 
• Cruella went on a week long vacation September 3. 
• The lender had some drama that she purposely hid from me (and caused a bit of a fluctuation in my happy vacation timeline), which resulted in us closing September 10. 
• Cruella was freakishly polite and more evasive than usual--to the point of Marty asking me what she was up to. 
• I went to pick up the lock box last week only to find the key for the condo still in the lock box. The patio of the condo was decked out nicely. I peeked in the window and the place looked perfect. Not a stray packing box in sight. 
• I asked Doug and Carla: they hadn't been by the property since around August 24.  

I threw this at Sally. She immediately said, "Cruella gave the buyer the spare keys left in the condo at the walk through and let her move in early." 

Yep. I think so too. I have no solid evidence. It is serious conjecture. There were a few other things in there too--comments Cruella made. Looking back, I can see that some of her answers to my questions were strange. For example, I asked if they would be doing another walk through now that the close of escrow was two weeks later. Cruella made some sort of cryptic comment that essentially said, "no." and by then, I was dealing with a mad-dash home to take care of my father and wasn't paying attention. 

I've been doing this for 18 years my gut tells me I'm probably right. I will never know. Nor do I care much at this point. But yea, I suspect the buyer was homeless as of August 31 and she and Cruella rolled the dice and took a chance and moved in early. 

Update on Dad

Dad is still in a rehab facility where: 1) he has absolutely no idea why he is there and 2) thinks his children have institutionalized him. He can sorta walk. His cognition is questionable. I mean, he knows me and he can wax poetic about how he was stationed in Tukey, but he isn't sure what year it is or what year he was born. So, there's that. 

Plus, as of today, because of covid protocols, now nobody can visit him now inside the facility. So, it seems cruel to drag an 84 year old man outside in 100 degrees to talk to him about whether or not he did his exercises and how the facility always gives him coffee instead of iced tea (they don't). Not having visitors will not be good for his mental acuity, which isn't that great anyway.

There have been appointments with doctors, social workers and insurance folks. We have talked to everyone from the occupational therapist to the speech therapist and a few other therapist types. We've called his cardiologist and his general practitioner for guidance. Some of the information has been useful, some has made us throw up our hands in despair. There have been trips to the medical supply place and a few modifications to his furniture and bathroom that Dad will be less than thrilled to discover. For anyone who has gone through this level of crap, you know what I mean. For those who haven't, may you continue to be blessed. 

My father wants to go back to his house, sit in his chair, watch Judge Judy and the news. He wants to pet his cat and go to breakfast at his favorite restaurant. He doesn't want to do anything else. The facility is suggesting he go to a group home. Well, he can do all of the above except breakfast at his favorite restaurant and pet his cat in a group home, but be less happy. Why bother? 

We realize there are many limitations to Dad going home. My brother--though he will deny this--may have possibly disconnected the battery in Dad's car. If he needs to, he will also flatten the tires. Dad has no business driving. Dad needs assistance with medications, cooking and a other aspects of his living. He has a roommate who is willing to take on some of this (including driving) and we are working with the insurance company to take care of the rest. 

In the meantime, Dad is still in a rehab facility where: 1) he has absolutely no idea why he is there and 2) thinks his children have institutionalized him. 

A Glimpse Into My Life

Marty Sunshine had an initial screening interview with a company this past week. Then, based on no reality whatsoever, Marty decided that he could live anywhere and do that particular job--if he were indeed hired. So, he decided we'd live in a town in East Texas with a population of 35,000. I'll send you a postcard right after we unpack. 

Speaking of interviewing: more than half of Marty's Department is interviewing for other jobs right now. New Boss is that crazy. Plus, this past week, New Boss sent out a department-wide e-mail listing all the people he felt weren't carrying their weight. Marty was one of them. In Marty's defense, he'd been on vacation for two weeks, so of course he didn't have some stupid report completed--he didn't even know anyone wanted the report. Nonetheless, New Boss motivates through shame. 

What is the department doing about New Boss's shenanigans? I don't know. I've made reasonable (to me) suggestions that includes the words, "human resources," but nobody seems to care. They all want out. However, I've heard that the support group I am threatening to start for all of the Department's significant others is gaining some traction. 

Last Day on the Job

My employment lasted three days, of which two of those days I was out, dealing with my my father's health. Dad's situation may last three more days, three more months, three more years. I don't know. What I do know is this company needs someone to be ready, willing and able to work right now. I can't be that person.

They asked if I knew someone who might be interested and willing to jump in. I did, and gave them Jane's name and number. She's a better fit anyway. 

As for me, there are seasons for everything. And as much as I would like to be working, or doing something for my own sanity, it appears this isn't the time. I'm ok with that. 

First Day on the Job

I started my new job Tuesday. 

It consisted of a meeting where I told the Triumvirate (that would be the three owners) I wanted more money (yes, really). 

Then I said because of my license, I wouldn't comply to one of the processes they had in place, so that would have to be immediately changed. 

And then I re-wrote one of their documents because I didn't like the way they worded it. 

Then we had an interview to hire an underling who will eventually be working under me. 

There were a few other tid-bits that kind of flashed by as well. 

The Triumvirate have told me they will help me any way they can as I deal with Dad's care. So, I'm guessing I haven't completely burned the bridge yet. Anyway, I think this might be kind of fun. 

Scotty

So my pal Scotty called me. He is an agent in another state. He has a friend in Northern Arizona who is selling their home and Scotty thinks his friends are getting the shaft. He called me for a reality check. 

I can tell you, please be wary of those who promise big and talk fast. This particular well-known brokerage Scotty's friend is using is located in Phoenix--not in Northern Arizona. Truthfully, they have no business selling a house out of their expertise, and unless the agent representing these folks is familiar with Northern Arizona, it isn't their expertise. Nor is it Scotty's or mine. 

It sounds to me like Scotty is 100 percent right. His friends are in bit of a pickle. They didn't listen to Scotty when he said, "be careful" when his friends suggested they were going to use this company. So, I'm guessing they aren't going to listen to Scotty when he says, "Yea, that was foolish." 

 

One More Thing

Two weeks ago today, while in Nashville on vacation, Marty interviewed with the company in Fort Myers. He has heard nothing since, which I consider pretty much a closed door. Honestly, I don't have the mental energy to deal with it right now. 

Marty starts back to his job with New Boss tomorrow. I am sure it will completely eradicate the "just got back from vacation" vibe we have going on here. Maybe then I will care more about Fort Myers. 

Adventures in Adulting

Doug and Carla's cute little condo closed on Friday with less drama than highly expected. Cruella and I had a meeting of the minds on Tuesday. The loan officer and I had a meeting of the minds on Wednesday. Carla apologized for her continual volatile outbursts on Thursday. But, no matter, by Thursday I was numb and just didn't care. By Friday I got "thank yous," from all of the above and dished out my own gratitude. Or at least I hope I did. 

The enjoyment of our vacation was cut short by about a week because last Monday, while hanging around Northern Michigan, I got a text: "Dad was rushed by ambulance to the hospital." This set off a week-long series of drama that made me forget about real estate for the most part. It also set off a mad-dash home, leaving a few precious and lost vacation days for another time. 

Because of Dad's situation, my brother Darwin is in town this weekend. We both finally got to see Dad on Saturday. Dad had a TIA ("mini-stroke") and according to Google, he should make a full recovery--whatever that looks like. However, he hasn't made this, "full recovery" just yet and is currently in a rehabilitation facility where he let Darwin and I know that his children, "committed and institutionalized him." No amount of reasoning could change his mind. 

Also on Saturday, Squirrel (who had been spearheading Dad's care while I was gone), Darwin and I got together to talk about Dad's options. As Dad currently is now, he cannot live alone. If Dad is willing to learn some of the mad skills his occupational therapist is willing to teach him and practice his physical training exercises so that he can walk again with assistance, we are willing to honor his request to go home and live his life the way he sees fit. But Dad isn't sure learning those skills and doing those exercises are a good use of his time in the rehab center. 

Today is Sunday. I think. I've set aside today for laundry, home chores and family time. Tomorrow is Monday, which will be  meetings with the doctors, social workers, other people who I don't even know exist yet and figuring out what steps can be taken to honor his wishes. 

Tuesday I start a new job. 

I hate adulting.

Wisdom

The lender for the buyer of the cute little condo didn't bother to tell me AUGUST 25 that the underwriter asked for a new appraisal. Of course Cruella didn't mention it either. And I am certain she would if she knew, to do otherwise would be unethical. And I'm sure Cruella is ethical. Right? 

Anyway, I found out on SEPTEMBER 2 a new appraisal was ordered. I was also told by the buyer's stellar team that they "tried to call me" on August 25 to let me know. I don't know what, "tried to call" exactly means, but I have no record of a phone call, text or e-mail from these delightful folks. Incidentally, it was the lender who texted me to tell me she, "tried to call" a week earlier. 

Doug and Carla are starting to freak out. This is supposed to close on September 10, however files don't tend to stay in underwriting for more than three days unless there is a problem with the buyer. And I'm thinking there is a problem. 

Yesterday--Friday--I asked for an end of day update. I didn't get one. The lack of transparency on the buyer side speaks volumes about this situation.  At this time, there is nothing I can do until Tuesday. So I'd be better off enjoying my weekend--which is the advice I gave Doug. Neither of us will probably follow my sage wisdom. 

A Heron in Lake Huron

In an effort to get some distance from the Arizona heat, Marty and I left Polly and Buckaroo to take care of the pets. We are on a two week road trip. Currently, we are up in Northern Michigan visiting Bonus Dad in his summer hideaway. 

That Makes Sense

Julie sent me a text yesterday. She said--and I'm not making this up--the reason she hung up on me nine days ago and never called me back was that she was "busy." She said they were in the middle of making some, "decisions" and she would, "let me know." 

Well, at least she admitted she hung up on me.