Photo: Maison Newton. This is the main photo from the real estate brokerage website. If I do say so myself (and I do), it is a pretty home. You can see the trees (bare now), behind the roof line in the back yard. This is not a McMansion of shoddy construction, and it is just the right size. Although built in 1989-1990 (I moved into the house on August 1, 1990, had it built for myself), the floor plan has held up very well. The back of the house overlooks the back yard. It holds the kitchen, a large dinette area with sliding patio doors to a deck, and opens to a 12.6 x 18 family room that has a service door to the garage and a utility closet that shares a wall with a 3/4 bath on the first floor, that could, with minor reconfigurations, be turned into a bath with shower over tub (right now it has a full size shower, but no tub). By running a narrow wall of closet space against the family room wall that backs to the garage, and adding a wall with a door, or perhaps some french doors to cut the space off from the dinette, a main-floor master suite could be constructed. Well, that was the original plan when I had the house built. I had envisioned a private and spacious retreat/bedroom for my parents on the first floor, in the event they needed to give up their house for whatever reason. Things did not turn out that way, but the possibilities remain.
I believe I am not constitutionally designed to deal with the processes of selling/buying a house. Something must have significantly changed in my genetic make-up and/or my disposition that prevents me from dealing comfortably with all of the stuff and nonsense that must be dealt with - at lightning speed! The last time I did this was 19 years ago, and it was sure a different world back then. The fastest thing we had were faxes and overnight fedex deliveries! Now - it's all BANG BANG BANG - everything has to be done with 24 hours or less! That's b.s., frankly. The entire process these days is designed to short-circuit people's brains so they do not have time to really think about what is happening and what they are doing and what they are signing. The brokers are only out for their commissions, they don't give a flying f about you.
When I actually pounded the table last Saturday after viewing the houses I wanted to see protesting about how fast the agents were pushing for everything to happen, and told the agent that I wanted to READ certain provisions in the purchase contract, she was shocked! SHOCKED! I could tell she was scared crapless that moment, because she made an excuse to leave the conference room we were in at one of her firm's conveniently-located offices. Perhaps she was making an emergency cell phone call to her back-up agent.
Don't get me started about the back-up agent. I have already hung up on her, obnoxious pushy. I realize she has a job to do and she wants to earn that nice big fat commission she could earn by selling this house. But this is my life.
Yesterday morning - a Sunday, mind you - since when has it become routine to transact business on a Sunday? - this really bothers me - it was stressed how important it was for me to obtain something called a "prequalification letter" and what an EASY process it is to obtain such a document.
So, this morning at the office I attempt to locate a telephone number for the local branch of the bank that holds my current mortgage, figuring that it would be an easy process for it to issue such a letter since they already have all of my records and best know my payment history, etc. etc.
Except - I couldn't find a telephone number in the phone book; online, there was no direct telephone number listed for the branch where I make my monthly payment, and if I did not live here, I would never have recognized 400 East Washington Avenue as meaning 400 East Wisconsin Avenue as the location of the branch nearest to me. Geez! So, I call the number that I got online and get a recording saying "hello, this is so and so. I am no longer at this number. You can contact me at blah blah."
So I call blah blah, wondering if so and so is still working for MY bank, or if he works somewhere else? So, I get in touch with Mr. so and so, but he can't help me, he's not a loan officer! He gives me the name of another Mr. so and so, but no telephone number, and says he will have Mr. so and so call me.
So - I dig out the materials I received from my real estate broker. That company as a subsidiary that is a mortgage brokerage firm. I call that firm. I get run around and finally connected to someone's voice mail and I leave a message. Forty minutes later I receive a telephone call, and after answering a few questions the person from the mortgage brokerage says oh, you have to talk to Ms. so and so, I will have her call you right away.
Then, it's 10:30 a.m. I have been on and off the telephone and online attempting to track down phone numbers and in the phone book, etc., since 8:30 a.m. AND I STILL DON'T HAVE THE PREQUALIFICATION LETTER THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SNAP TO OBTAIN.
Meanwhile, work is piling up on my desk. I am supposed to be working at my job, that is what I am being paid for. I am NOT supposed to be pissing away 2 hours trying to talk to SOMEONE who can get me the letter I need to take care of personal business!
Mr. so and so from my current mortgage lender's mortgage branch calls me back on a cell phone which keeps cutting out - so we are shouting at each other and missing every other syllable. I do eventually understand that he is on his way to a closing and will call me "in the afternoon."
Someone calls me back from the real estate company's mortgage brokerage firm. Fortunately, she is calling on a land line and I can hear her - and she me - perfectly well. She gets some information and says she will pull a credit report and let me know what's up.
Of course I miss all calls, because I always manage to be away from my desk doing actual work when my telephone rings.
Finally, I receive a voice mail from the real estate company's mortgage brokerage firm -- the needed prequalification letter has been done and sent to the less experienced of my real estate agents. I have excellent credit, a very high score. Well duh - they could have just asked me. But I know people lie about this type of stuff. Why they lie when it is so easy to be caught out, I have no idea, but they lie anyway. I don't waste my time lying, not even "social lies" any more. Now I just keep my mouth shut if I can't tell the truth "oh yes, Minerva, you look positively divine in that peplos that is supposed to cover all of your lumps and bumps but manages not to do so, and you've got a flabby-looking breast exposed, by the way. Gross!"
Again while I am away from my desk I get a voice mail message from my current mortgage lender -- it is not yet afternoon when this call comes in. I take people at their word. If they say "I will call in the afternoon" that means after 12 o'clock noon. He calls before 12 o'clock noon. Call me back, he says.
So, I do - after lunch. Again, the cell phone thing, with the call fading in and out. He does not sound too happy that in the meantime I had obtained what I needed from my real estate broker's mortgage lending company. and starts to go into all the reasons why their mortgage rates are better and less expensive closing costs, etc. I ruthlessy cut him short. I am in NO MOOD to hear anything other than "I will kiss your feet once a week on Friday evenings for the next 20 years if you give your mortgage business to our bank."
Meanwhile, time is ticking away on receiving an acceptance or counter-offer from the sellers of the house for which I put in an offer. My real estate agent had been so confident that it would be accepted; I was skeptical.
Turns out I was right to have an expressively raised eyebrow at the protestations of my real estate agent. I left the office at 5 p.m. without any word - not a call, not an email. It is remarkably amazing how silent the agents can be when they are not badgering you to sign sign sign RIGHT NOW!
I arrived home, after a long, hard, difficult day, and cold to boot. We are expecting our first blizzard to hit sometime tomorrow evening before 5 p.m., and so I determined to stop at the supermarket and stock up on as much as I could carry: emergency rations of wine and chili fixings and milk. When I got home, there was an email waiting from my real estate agent that she had received word from the sellers' agent (on the house I offered to buy) that she thought they were going to counter to move up the closing date by 30 days.
This proposed change has a domino effect on the offer that was made to buy my house yesterday. Those people now have to speed up their entire process by at least 30 days (probably more) and hope to hell they find a buyer for their house in early January who can sell their house and or come up with cash to close, etc. etc. Good fricking luck with that!
Meanwhile, my real estate agents (I think when the younger one gets scared of me she brings the other one along for reinforcement) just cannot understand why I had, a few days before, called a halt to any further showings of the house until the end of January. They seem to be unable to comprehend the meaning of CHRISTMAS AND NEWS YEARS AND COMPANY VISITING ME, AND NOT ROUSTING MY GUESTS OUT OF THE HOUSE SO THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE NEITHER THE INTENTION NOR THE MEANS OF BUYING THIS PLACE CAN COME THROUGH AND GAWK AT IT.
So, that's where we are at the moment. I can reject the counter-offer I am supposed to be receiving from the sellers of 110th Street, because realistically, there is no way I would be ready to close the deal and move out of this house into 110th Street. And if those sellers think they are going to receive a cleaner offer, for their price, who can close by the time they want - well - miracles do happen every day.
Did I mention the basement issue? No, I didn't. The sellers of the house I offered for obtained a condition report on their own as part of their preparing for sale, and were alerted to a potential basement problem. Basement problems in Wisconsin are par for the course. In this area we have clay soil that holds excessive moisture long after other soils dry out and stay dry and shrink to extremes long after other soils expand with moderate moisture. This kind of extremism has a devasting effect on concrete block basements, which continue to be build all over the state despite known problems with our soil vs. concrete block. Oh well! By the way, a copy of this report has not been provided to me. I am required to spend $400 plus to obtain my own home inspection.
Is it just me? Isn't there something grossly wrong and really fricking crazy about this whole process?
I have also just realized that I have ZERO protection in the event my offer to buy 110th Street falls apart, but my buyers somehow manage to come up to scratch. I will be out of a home with no place to go by February 26th.
NOT ACCEPTABLE.
My listing agent, who is acting as a "seller's agent", but also signed a separate contract with me to act as my "buyer agent" neglected to point out this little blip, and stupid me, I didn't spot it until now.
Hmmmm, now I am really pissed off...
Monday, December 7, 2009
More Adventures in Selling/Buying a House
Photo: Maison Newton. This is the main photo from the real estate brokerage website. If I do say so myself (and I do), it is a pretty home. You can see the trees (bare now), behind the roof line in the back yard. This is not a McMansion of shoddy construction, and it is just the right size. Although built in 1989-1990 (I moved into the house on August 1, 1990, had it built for myself), the floor plan has held up very well. The back of the house overlooks the back yard. It holds the kitchen, a large dinette area with sliding patio doors to a deck, and opens to a 12.6 x 18 family room that has a service door to the garage and a utility closet that shares a wall with a 3/4 bath on the first floor, that could, with minor reconfigurations, be turned into a bath with shower over tub (right now it has a full size shower, but no tub). By running a narrow wall of closet space against the family room wall that backs to the garage, and adding a wall with a door, or perhaps some french doors to cut the space off from the dinette, a main-floor master suite could be constructed. Well, that was the original plan when I had the house built. I had envisioned a private and spacious retreat/bedroom for my parents on the first floor, in the event they needed to give up their house for whatever reason. Things did not turn out that way, but the possibilities remain.
I believe I am not constitutionally designed to deal with the processes of selling/buying a house. Something must have significantly changed in my genetic make-up and/or my disposition that prevents me from dealing comfortably with all of the stuff and nonsense that must be dealt with - at lightning speed! The last time I did this was 19 years ago, and it was sure a different world back then. The fastest thing we had were faxes and overnight fedex deliveries! Now - it's all BANG BANG BANG - everything has to be done with 24 hours or less! That's b.s., frankly. The entire process these days is designed to short-circuit people's brains so they do not have time to really think about what is happening and what they are doing and what they are signing. The brokers are only out for their commissions, they don't give a flying f about you.
When I actually pounded the table last Saturday after viewing the houses I wanted to see protesting about how fast the agents were pushing for everything to happen, and told the agent that I wanted to READ certain provisions in the purchase contract, she was shocked! SHOCKED! I could tell she was scared crapless that moment, because she made an excuse to leave the conference room we were in at one of her firm's conveniently-located offices. Perhaps she was making an emergency cell phone call to her back-up agent.
Don't get me started about the back-up agent. I have already hung up on her, obnoxious pushy. I realize she has a job to do and she wants to earn that nice big fat commission she could earn by selling this house. But this is my life.
Yesterday morning - a Sunday, mind you - since when has it become routine to transact business on a Sunday? - this really bothers me - it was stressed how important it was for me to obtain something called a "prequalification letter" and what an EASY process it is to obtain such a document.
So, this morning at the office I attempt to locate a telephone number for the local branch of the bank that holds my current mortgage, figuring that it would be an easy process for it to issue such a letter since they already have all of my records and best know my payment history, etc. etc.
Except - I couldn't find a telephone number in the phone book; online, there was no direct telephone number listed for the branch where I make my monthly payment, and if I did not live here, I would never have recognized 400 East Washington Avenue as meaning 400 East Wisconsin Avenue as the location of the branch nearest to me. Geez! So, I call the number that I got online and get a recording saying "hello, this is so and so. I am no longer at this number. You can contact me at blah blah."
So I call blah blah, wondering if so and so is still working for MY bank, or if he works somewhere else? So, I get in touch with Mr. so and so, but he can't help me, he's not a loan officer! He gives me the name of another Mr. so and so, but no telephone number, and says he will have Mr. so and so call me.
So - I dig out the materials I received from my real estate broker. That company as a subsidiary that is a mortgage brokerage firm. I call that firm. I get run around and finally connected to someone's voice mail and I leave a message. Forty minutes later I receive a telephone call, and after answering a few questions the person from the mortgage brokerage says oh, you have to talk to Ms. so and so, I will have her call you right away.
Then, it's 10:30 a.m. I have been on and off the telephone and online attempting to track down phone numbers and in the phone book, etc., since 8:30 a.m. AND I STILL DON'T HAVE THE PREQUALIFICATION LETTER THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SNAP TO OBTAIN.
Meanwhile, work is piling up on my desk. I am supposed to be working at my job, that is what I am being paid for. I am NOT supposed to be pissing away 2 hours trying to talk to SOMEONE who can get me the letter I need to take care of personal business!
Mr. so and so from my current mortgage lender's mortgage branch calls me back on a cell phone which keeps cutting out - so we are shouting at each other and missing every other syllable. I do eventually understand that he is on his way to a closing and will call me "in the afternoon."
Someone calls me back from the real estate company's mortgage brokerage firm. Fortunately, she is calling on a land line and I can hear her - and she me - perfectly well. She gets some information and says she will pull a credit report and let me know what's up.
Of course I miss all calls, because I always manage to be away from my desk doing actual work when my telephone rings.
Finally, I receive a voice mail from the real estate company's mortgage brokerage firm -- the needed prequalification letter has been done and sent to the less experienced of my real estate agents. I have excellent credit, a very high score. Well duh - they could have just asked me. But I know people lie about this type of stuff. Why they lie when it is so easy to be caught out, I have no idea, but they lie anyway. I don't waste my time lying, not even "social lies" any more. Now I just keep my mouth shut if I can't tell the truth "oh yes, Minerva, you look positively divine in that peplos that is supposed to cover all of your lumps and bumps but manages not to do so, and you've got a flabby-looking breast exposed, by the way. Gross!"
Again while I am away from my desk I get a voice mail message from my current mortgage lender -- it is not yet afternoon when this call comes in. I take people at their word. If they say "I will call in the afternoon" that means after 12 o'clock noon. He calls before 12 o'clock noon. Call me back, he says.
So, I do - after lunch. Again, the cell phone thing, with the call fading in and out. He does not sound too happy that in the meantime I had obtained what I needed from my real estate broker's mortgage lending company. and starts to go into all the reasons why their mortgage rates are better and less expensive closing costs, etc. I ruthlessy cut him short. I am in NO MOOD to hear anything other than "I will kiss your feet once a week on Friday evenings for the next 20 years if you give your mortgage business to our bank."
Meanwhile, time is ticking away on receiving an acceptance or counter-offer from the sellers of the house for which I put in an offer. My real estate agent had been so confident that it would be accepted; I was skeptical.
Turns out I was right to have an expressively raised eyebrow at the protestations of my real estate agent. I left the office at 5 p.m. without any word - not a call, not an email. It is remarkably amazing how silent the agents can be when they are not badgering you to sign sign sign RIGHT NOW!
I arrived home, after a long, hard, difficult day, and cold to boot. We are expecting our first blizzard to hit sometime tomorrow evening before 5 p.m., and so I determined to stop at the supermarket and stock up on as much as I could carry: emergency rations of wine and chili fixings and milk. When I got home, there was an email waiting from my real estate agent that she had received word from the sellers' agent (on the house I offered to buy) that she thought they were going to counter to move up the closing date by 30 days.
This proposed change has a domino effect on the offer that was made to buy my house yesterday. Those people now have to speed up their entire process by at least 30 days (probably more) and hope to hell they find a buyer for their house in early January who can sell their house and or come up with cash to close, etc. etc. Good fricking luck with that!
Meanwhile, my real estate agents (I think when the younger one gets scared of me she brings the other one along for reinforcement) just cannot understand why I had, a few days before, called a halt to any further showings of the house until the end of January. They seem to be unable to comprehend the meaning of CHRISTMAS AND NEWS YEARS AND COMPANY VISITING ME, AND NOT ROUSTING MY GUESTS OUT OF THE HOUSE SO THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE NEITHER THE INTENTION NOR THE MEANS OF BUYING THIS PLACE CAN COME THROUGH AND GAWK AT IT.
So, that's where we are at the moment. I can reject the counter-offer I am supposed to be receiving from the sellers of 110th Street, because realistically, there is no way I would be ready to close the deal and move out of this house into 110th Street. And if those sellers think they are going to receive a cleaner offer, for their price, who can close by the time they want - well - miracles do happen every day.
Did I mention the basement issue? No, I didn't. The sellers of the house I offered for obtained a condition report on their own as part of their preparing for sale, and were alerted to a potential basement problem. Basement problems in Wisconsin are par for the course. In this area we have clay soil that holds excessive moisture long after other soils dry out and stay dry and shrink to extremes long after other soils expand with moderate moisture. This kind of extremism has a devasting effect on concrete block basements, which continue to be build all over the state despite known problems with our soil vs. concrete block. Oh well! By the way, a copy of this report has not been provided to me. I am required to spend $400 plus to obtain my own home inspection.
Is it just me? Isn't there something grossly wrong and really fricking crazy about this whole process?
I have also just realized that I have ZERO protection in the event my offer to buy 110th Street falls apart, but my buyers somehow manage to come up to scratch. I will be out of a home with no place to go by February 26th.
NOT ACCEPTABLE.
My listing agent, who is acting as a "seller's agent", but also signed a separate contract with me to act as my "buyer agent" neglected to point out this little blip, and stupid me, I didn't spot it until now.
Hmmmm, now I am really pissed off...
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