We Can Work it Out

Yesterday, I went on an excursion to look at a piece of crap with a repeat client of mine. And yes, it was a piece of crap. I knew it, he knew it, everybody knew it. But my guy buys lots of pieces of crap, presumably so that someday he will have a whole heaping, steaming pile of crap. Okay, he actually fixes them up and rents them.

My car was being used by my significant other to engage in Christmas shopping. (I had to let him use it or I wouldn't get a Christmas present.) So in order for me to show this property, I had to let my client be the chauffeur. This has happened before, with another client, when my foot was broken. I am not ashamed to admit this, although I should be.

Anyway, my "limo" was a construction van full of 5 gallon buckets, tools, drop clothes and many unidentifiable filthy objects, aka ufo's. My client had to open the heavy sliding door for me, then I, quite ungracefully, hoisted my office clothes clad body unceremoniously into the debris strewn interior. We proceeded to our destination, me in the back, way in the back, of this disastrously decorated vehicle as my client peered confidently through the grease smudged windshield.

Upon arrival, I again hoisted myself up and attempted to gingerly step from the van while visions of another broken ankle danced in my head. As we approached the front door, I realized with horror that I had failed to bring the lock box code with me. Of course, I first blamed my client for misplacing it swearing that I had handed him my papers.

So I called the office, hoping that someone could locate the missing papers amongst the other piles of papers on my desk. No luck. So then I attempted to call the listing agent whose cell phone number, luckily, was on the For Sale sign. No luck. Then I called the listing agent's office but was greeted by an answering machine. By now, I was looking quite the fool. Okay, I was looking quite the fool long before that. So I then called the listing agent's team leader because, luckily, he had an easy cell number to remember. I actually reached a human being this time but no, he did not know the lock box combination but promised to make a couple phone calls to find out for me. By the time I got off the phone with him I had a text message from the listing agent with the combo. Yeah! But then I had to call the team leader and tell him that I indeed had the code, was in the house and sorry to have troubled you. Sigh. Red faced and with egg on it too.

Long story short, my guy put an offer in on the piece of crap which was totally overpriced considering the ceiling was caving in, there was little or no foundation on one side of the house, and the bathroom looked like someone had been hosing it down on a regular basis, but not in an effort to sanitize it. Overpriced because the bank who owned the property had the audacity to put a price tag on it at all.

So I am now waiting to hear if the bank will take our offer. I sure hope so. I can't imagine anyone else being brave enough to tackle this "house". I hope for my client's sake and for mine and my broker's sake who, as I informed him this morning, stand to each earn $250.

Not a bad return for all my hard and competent work.