Mrs. Worrier did not move in with Mr. Worrier. Nor did she allow her children to move in. In fact, she has taken the children and refuses to say where or let her children talk to their father. Also, she is now claiming he has assaulted her.
Whatever. I am glad I am done.
The whole thing disgusts me.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Saturday, March 10, 2018
A Residential Agent Having Commercial Adventures
First, let me preface this with telling you what my 80 year old father told me last night: commercial real estate and residential real estate aren't the same thing. And more to his point, I am not qualified. He didn't tell me what I wasn't qualified to do, but I am guessing, knowing him, he meant both residential and commercial. But for the sake of argument, let's go with I'm not qualified to sell commercial real estate. Which, by the way, I agree with him. I know human anatomy too, but I don't feel qualified to conduct open heart surgery. So, yep, Dad may be right.
Anyway, my client wants to buy a church. That means she is looking for a commercial building in her price range and in a sketchy part of Phoenix where she and her ministry can take place. She has been down this road before, with me telling her she wants to use my colleague, Bill. Bill is a rock star commercial real estate agent. My client doesn't agree, but fortunately, she trusts me enough that she is willing to give him a second chance if I won't touch the deal. As part of this process, however, I am tagging along to run interference and to learn a thing or two when we look at commercial buildings, which we did yesterday.
Potential Church Building 1: Built in 1945, brick and stucco'ed. No windows, but bars over the doors.
Located off of South 19th Avenue and Scaryville, I had to park quite a distance away when I showed up yesterday. Though I know very little about commercial buildings, I am pretty sure a church needs parking. Anyway, I half-expected my car to be gone when this appointment was over (spoiler: it was still there).
The building in question was being used for three purposes. First, there was an auto body repair shop occupying the back of the space. Second there was some sort of social/gathering room that used up one-third of this building. There was a stage, guitars and a drum. There was blue shag carpet on the floor. There was 1970s wood panel on the walls, which the owner assures us is "up to code," but I am pretty sure the City of Phoenix has rules about electrical wires not being bound by duct tape against the wood paneling and perhaps the wood studs should actually go all the way to the ceiling. There were two bathrooms, a small storage space and a nook where a microwave and a refrigerator stood.
The last space was padlocked about six times and the owner had to make a special trip somewhere to retrieve the key. She came back and proudly opened up the room (which was the other side of the "built to code" wall). The room in question was about the size of a two car garage. It had one AC vent. The residential real estate agent in me asked nobody in particular, "How old is the AC?" Bill muttered in my ear, "Let's assume it is original." But, that wasn't the interesting part. The entire space was full of boxes, upon boxes of merchandise. Now, in case you may work for the AZ Attorney General's office, I am sure it was all legal and taxes had been rightfully paid. But, if you are looking for a good deal on all sorts of random items from children's' toys to Christmas trees to pleather purses, it was probably in here. And lots of it.
Potential Church Building 2: A tin warehouse, manufactured probably in the Carter Administration and never maintained. It is located off of Central Avenue and also has no parking. I wasn't worried about my car at this location. I was worried about my safety. In fact, when we were done, I asked Bill to walk me back to my car because the six scary dudes were standing about three feet away from it. Bill said, "No problem, you will be my shield if things get dicey." I hope he was joking (spoiler: we were fine, or at least I was).
This big warehouse is shaped like a barn. Put about six two-car garages together and you would probably have a pretty good estimation of size. Bill commented as he let us in, "The owner said the electricity is not on." That was a big of an understatement because it was pretty obvious there was no wiring anywhere to be found. The only light that was coming in was from one skylight, situated in the middle of the building and the numerous bullet holes that riddled the walls. There was a room designated as a bathroom, but it was missing a potty. There was also a small office with a portable wall AC strategically placed on some concrete blocks.
But that's not the best part! Oh no! This space, apparently, had been some sort of bird (for the sake of argument) "sanctuary." There were chicken/pigeon/who knows what else feathers and byproduct everywhere! EVERYWHERE! It may have been suggested that one could cover the bottom of the floor with soil, add a few lights and use the place as a grow-house with all that fertile bird poop. Voila! Income-property.
Bill's (and mine) client is still looking around. They may want to raise their price because I am thinking these may not be what they are looking for. But what do I know? I am a residential agent.
Anyway, my client wants to buy a church. That means she is looking for a commercial building in her price range and in a sketchy part of Phoenix where she and her ministry can take place. She has been down this road before, with me telling her she wants to use my colleague, Bill. Bill is a rock star commercial real estate agent. My client doesn't agree, but fortunately, she trusts me enough that she is willing to give him a second chance if I won't touch the deal. As part of this process, however, I am tagging along to run interference and to learn a thing or two when we look at commercial buildings, which we did yesterday.
Potential Church Building 1: Built in 1945, brick and stucco'ed. No windows, but bars over the doors.
Located off of South 19th Avenue and Scaryville, I had to park quite a distance away when I showed up yesterday. Though I know very little about commercial buildings, I am pretty sure a church needs parking. Anyway, I half-expected my car to be gone when this appointment was over (spoiler: it was still there).
The building in question was being used for three purposes. First, there was an auto body repair shop occupying the back of the space. Second there was some sort of social/gathering room that used up one-third of this building. There was a stage, guitars and a drum. There was blue shag carpet on the floor. There was 1970s wood panel on the walls, which the owner assures us is "up to code," but I am pretty sure the City of Phoenix has rules about electrical wires not being bound by duct tape against the wood paneling and perhaps the wood studs should actually go all the way to the ceiling. There were two bathrooms, a small storage space and a nook where a microwave and a refrigerator stood.
The last space was padlocked about six times and the owner had to make a special trip somewhere to retrieve the key. She came back and proudly opened up the room (which was the other side of the "built to code" wall). The room in question was about the size of a two car garage. It had one AC vent. The residential real estate agent in me asked nobody in particular, "How old is the AC?" Bill muttered in my ear, "Let's assume it is original." But, that wasn't the interesting part. The entire space was full of boxes, upon boxes of merchandise. Now, in case you may work for the AZ Attorney General's office, I am sure it was all legal and taxes had been rightfully paid. But, if you are looking for a good deal on all sorts of random items from children's' toys to Christmas trees to pleather purses, it was probably in here. And lots of it.
Potential Church Building 2: A tin warehouse, manufactured probably in the Carter Administration and never maintained. It is located off of Central Avenue and also has no parking. I wasn't worried about my car at this location. I was worried about my safety. In fact, when we were done, I asked Bill to walk me back to my car because the six scary dudes were standing about three feet away from it. Bill said, "No problem, you will be my shield if things get dicey." I hope he was joking (spoiler: we were fine, or at least I was).
This big warehouse is shaped like a barn. Put about six two-car garages together and you would probably have a pretty good estimation of size. Bill commented as he let us in, "The owner said the electricity is not on." That was a big of an understatement because it was pretty obvious there was no wiring anywhere to be found. The only light that was coming in was from one skylight, situated in the middle of the building and the numerous bullet holes that riddled the walls. There was a room designated as a bathroom, but it was missing a potty. There was also a small office with a portable wall AC strategically placed on some concrete blocks.
But that's not the best part! Oh no! This space, apparently, had been some sort of bird (for the sake of argument) "sanctuary." There were chicken/pigeon/who knows what else feathers and byproduct everywhere! EVERYWHERE! It may have been suggested that one could cover the bottom of the floor with soil, add a few lights and use the place as a grow-house with all that fertile bird poop. Voila! Income-property.
Bill's (and mine) client is still looking around. They may want to raise their price because I am thinking these may not be what they are looking for. But what do I know? I am a residential agent.
Friday, March 9, 2018
No Worries
Mr. Worrier sent me a text today. "We got the house!"
After I congratulated him, I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He replied, "Will you tell Mrs. Worrier?" I offered to send a carrier pigeon. Otherwise, he is on his own with that one.
After I congratulated him, I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He replied, "Will you tell Mrs. Worrier?" I offered to send a carrier pigeon. Otherwise, he is on his own with that one.
Thursday, March 8, 2018
A Worried Update
I got a text message from Mrs. Worrier on Tuesday. It said to send her everything out there that meets her criteria. Her husband was threatening to take the kids because he was sick of living in hotels.
I sent her the ONE home that came up. Then, I also asked if she might want to relax her standards a bit and I would be happy to send her everything else available. I got no response. In fact, I still haven't heard from her.
Meanwhile, Mr. Worrier contacted me. He said send him everything. He stated he will be renting a home for him and his children this week. Mrs. Worrier can come if she wants, but he was done with this. Oh, by the way, there was no need to consult Mrs. Worrier any further about housing.
Yesterday, Mr. Worrier and I looked at four homes. Two of them, were with a property management company who throws me a lot of business. However, these two homes aren't on the multiple listing service, so I won't get paid. They were his two favorites. Of course. I just asked him to use my name when he filled out the application. I want the credit, even if it just means stockpiling treasures in Heaven. Mr. Worrier filled out an application for a third home as well. He is a back-up application if one of the first two don't work out. So essentially, in the time they had been homeless, Mr. Worrier put in more applications in one day than they had in the four months Mrs. Worrier was half-looking.
Mr. Worrier looks like he has been put through the ringer. His eyes even moistened a little as he shared his story and his pain. He wants to keep his marriage together. He wants to give his children a good life. He wants Mrs. Worrier to seek help. She is refusing, saying it is everyone else's fault. She is a victim of her circumstances and everyone else's poor choices. I want her to get help too.
He told me--and after getting to know her I believe it--she said if he gets a home without her she will spend all his money and sabotage the situation. She will eat out all the time (they have been doing this anyway, because they are living in hotels). She will run up more bills. There will be hell to pay. He told me this with a resigned voice, sharing that once he has a lease signed, he is changing his bank accounts and turning off his credit cards. All of this broke my heart. My eyes may have moistened too.
I am pleased to hear he took steps. Unbeknownst to Mrs. Worrier, he has made arrangements and gotten a scholarship for his oldest three to start Catholic school as soon as he has an address. With all the chaos, his children have been merely existing. His in-laws--Mrs. Worrier's parents--have offered to watch the youngest two, cosign for a place (if necessary) and loan him the deposit money. His own father said he will make the drive from the city he lives in, which is 150 miles away, every Thursday and stay all weekend so Mr. Worrier can work his Uber driving job on the weekends. All of this breaks my heart. It breaks his heart too. This is not what a husband and father want. I get that.
Hopefully Mrs. Worrier will get help. Hopefully.
I sent her the ONE home that came up. Then, I also asked if she might want to relax her standards a bit and I would be happy to send her everything else available. I got no response. In fact, I still haven't heard from her.
Meanwhile, Mr. Worrier contacted me. He said send him everything. He stated he will be renting a home for him and his children this week. Mrs. Worrier can come if she wants, but he was done with this. Oh, by the way, there was no need to consult Mrs. Worrier any further about housing.
Yesterday, Mr. Worrier and I looked at four homes. Two of them, were with a property management company who throws me a lot of business. However, these two homes aren't on the multiple listing service, so I won't get paid. They were his two favorites. Of course. I just asked him to use my name when he filled out the application. I want the credit, even if it just means stockpiling treasures in Heaven. Mr. Worrier filled out an application for a third home as well. He is a back-up application if one of the first two don't work out. So essentially, in the time they had been homeless, Mr. Worrier put in more applications in one day than they had in the four months Mrs. Worrier was half-looking.
Mr. Worrier looks like he has been put through the ringer. His eyes even moistened a little as he shared his story and his pain. He wants to keep his marriage together. He wants to give his children a good life. He wants Mrs. Worrier to seek help. She is refusing, saying it is everyone else's fault. She is a victim of her circumstances and everyone else's poor choices. I want her to get help too.
He told me--and after getting to know her I believe it--she said if he gets a home without her she will spend all his money and sabotage the situation. She will eat out all the time (they have been doing this anyway, because they are living in hotels). She will run up more bills. There will be hell to pay. He told me this with a resigned voice, sharing that once he has a lease signed, he is changing his bank accounts and turning off his credit cards. All of this broke my heart. My eyes may have moistened too.
I am pleased to hear he took steps. Unbeknownst to Mrs. Worrier, he has made arrangements and gotten a scholarship for his oldest three to start Catholic school as soon as he has an address. With all the chaos, his children have been merely existing. His in-laws--Mrs. Worrier's parents--have offered to watch the youngest two, cosign for a place (if necessary) and loan him the deposit money. His own father said he will make the drive from the city he lives in, which is 150 miles away, every Thursday and stay all weekend so Mr. Worrier can work his Uber driving job on the weekends. All of this breaks my heart. It breaks his heart too. This is not what a husband and father want. I get that.
Hopefully Mrs. Worrier will get help. Hopefully.
Monday, March 5, 2018
Hiring a Puppet Master
I have a client who wants a commercial building. Last time we were in this situation, I referred her to a friend of mine who handles such things. However, nothing came of the sale and they parted ways. The client then hired some snake oil salesman, who helped her find a residential home--something she didn't really want, but now has. It does my ego good when she tells me working with me has been nothing of the nightmare of working with snake oil guy.
But now she wants to buy a commercial building. I still know enough about commercial real estate to be a danger to both of us. So, I have a call into my friend, the commercial agent. I need his help. I cannot do this alone. I am not sure he is going to want to dip his big toe back in with my client. (Frankly, I am not sure my client wants to work with him.) But I am hoping I can convince him to work with me--just be the puppet master. Tell me what to do. I can take direction pretty well. All he has to do is lead me in the right direction. That said, I am also hoping just splitting the (potential) commission with him 50/50 will be enough for his mentorship.
Hopefully he will say yes. I don't have a plan B if he says no.
But now she wants to buy a commercial building. I still know enough about commercial real estate to be a danger to both of us. So, I have a call into my friend, the commercial agent. I need his help. I cannot do this alone. I am not sure he is going to want to dip his big toe back in with my client. (Frankly, I am not sure my client wants to work with him.) But I am hoping I can convince him to work with me--just be the puppet master. Tell me what to do. I can take direction pretty well. All he has to do is lead me in the right direction. That said, I am also hoping just splitting the (potential) commission with him 50/50 will be enough for his mentorship.
Hopefully he will say yes. I don't have a plan B if he says no.
Friday, March 2, 2018
Home $weet Home
So I just got a text from Mrs. Worrier. It said,
"Will you please settle this with Mr. Worrier. Did you say the average rental home price is $2,100 or $2,200. Thanks."
Oh... I am not stepping into that trap. What exactly is the "average" house? The average house for me while I was searching in a different state for a possible move was about 1,500 square feet. But, we could have taken more or less. The average house size for Mrs. Worrier is 3,000 square feet. Why? I don't know. Right now they are living in a motel room which is much smaller than 3,000 square feet.
My response was: "What size home? What part of the Valley?" The true answer is rents over the area she is looking in are approximately $0.90 a square foot. I didn't tell her so.
The sadness really is she and her husband are having some sort of quibble over $100 and it has gotten so stressful she felt she needed to get someone else involved. I feel so sad for her children. Hopefully she will cave soon and they will find a property they can afford.
"Will you please settle this with Mr. Worrier. Did you say the average rental home price is $2,100 or $2,200. Thanks."
Oh... I am not stepping into that trap. What exactly is the "average" house? The average house for me while I was searching in a different state for a possible move was about 1,500 square feet. But, we could have taken more or less. The average house size for Mrs. Worrier is 3,000 square feet. Why? I don't know. Right now they are living in a motel room which is much smaller than 3,000 square feet.
My response was: "What size home? What part of the Valley?" The true answer is rents over the area she is looking in are approximately $0.90 a square foot. I didn't tell her so.
The sadness really is she and her husband are having some sort of quibble over $100 and it has gotten so stressful she felt she needed to get someone else involved. I feel so sad for her children. Hopefully she will cave soon and they will find a property they can afford.
March Has Come in Like a Lion
It has been an interesting week around these parts. Marty Sunshine interviewed, twice, for a job out of state. They wanted to fly him out, but Marty declined after a bit of back and forth. The job was a very close, but just not enough, fit for us to uproot our lives.
The entire experience was a bit surreal. Marty has interviewed before and been offered jobs before. This experience though was different. Everything was more intense, as we tried to figure out if this was the right time in our lives to do this. The usual topics, money, relocation, benefits were considered. But surprisingly, it was the day to day questions which I found unnerving. I didn't realize until it was over, that I had walked around with my jaw tight for the past several days. Minor issues, came into play as we threw everything we had on to the pros and cons list. We are six months out of a bankruptcy, just started a real estate brokerage, both of us have 80+ year old fathers, Polly is almost 18 and how does that play into a move? What do we do with the cat? Can he travel on an airplane or by car without loosing his mind (Not really) or is it better for him to be rejected, once again by another owner--us--, and have another new family (that just sounds cruel)?
In the mean-time, because I was as distracted by this, the only significant activity I managed this week was to google everything I could about the area. I now know the home school laws, housing prices and tons more moderately significant facts about the area. Incidentally, in case it comes up in idle conversation, this particular metro area of 600,000 has more than 20 martial arts studios.
Of course, this means very little got done on the real estate front. Actually, the only "real estate" that ended up happening was me asking a couple of agent friends to figure out what I could sell my home for. Jane, bless her, gave me a $134,000 range (we need to work on her pricing skills). But to be fair, my home is custom built and not a tract home, which is significantly harder to price. Ronnie and everyone's frenemy, Zillow, were pretty much in sync with what I was figuring, provided I did a couple of home repairs. If I didn't do anything I could subtract $20,000 from the price--which might have been what happened--though my neighbors would have been livid that I gave my home away. Of course Zillow (which has a bunch of incorrect data about my home), does not account for home repairs, so some buyer seeing my home for sale at an unreasonably low price would have (hopefully) jumped. But now they can just wait.
At any rate, Marty and I need to regroup on his job search. I had initially encouraged him to start looking because he is ready to move on from where he has been for the last 20+ years. I am ready for him to move on too. But I am thinking another year in our current location might be in order if Marty can stand his job just a little bit longer.
The entire experience was a bit surreal. Marty has interviewed before and been offered jobs before. This experience though was different. Everything was more intense, as we tried to figure out if this was the right time in our lives to do this. The usual topics, money, relocation, benefits were considered. But surprisingly, it was the day to day questions which I found unnerving. I didn't realize until it was over, that I had walked around with my jaw tight for the past several days. Minor issues, came into play as we threw everything we had on to the pros and cons list. We are six months out of a bankruptcy, just started a real estate brokerage, both of us have 80+ year old fathers, Polly is almost 18 and how does that play into a move? What do we do with the cat? Can he travel on an airplane or by car without loosing his mind (Not really) or is it better for him to be rejected, once again by another owner--us--, and have another new family (that just sounds cruel)?
In the mean-time, because I was as distracted by this, the only significant activity I managed this week was to google everything I could about the area. I now know the home school laws, housing prices and tons more moderately significant facts about the area. Incidentally, in case it comes up in idle conversation, this particular metro area of 600,000 has more than 20 martial arts studios.
Of course, this means very little got done on the real estate front. Actually, the only "real estate" that ended up happening was me asking a couple of agent friends to figure out what I could sell my home for. Jane, bless her, gave me a $134,000 range (we need to work on her pricing skills). But to be fair, my home is custom built and not a tract home, which is significantly harder to price. Ronnie and everyone's frenemy, Zillow, were pretty much in sync with what I was figuring, provided I did a couple of home repairs. If I didn't do anything I could subtract $20,000 from the price--which might have been what happened--though my neighbors would have been livid that I gave my home away. Of course Zillow (which has a bunch of incorrect data about my home), does not account for home repairs, so some buyer seeing my home for sale at an unreasonably low price would have (hopefully) jumped. But now they can just wait.
At any rate, Marty and I need to regroup on his job search. I had initially encouraged him to start looking because he is ready to move on from where he has been for the last 20+ years. I am ready for him to move on too. But I am thinking another year in our current location might be in order if Marty can stand his job just a little bit longer.
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