"Ew! What's that smell?" I asked my husband as I got out of bed, one morning last week.
"Buck wrestled with a skunk last night and lost," Cliff said. "I can't believe you slept through it - he went nuts. I let him out about 4 a.m. this morning and he got into it but good." (Did he ever - phew!) This wasn't the first time our dog, Buck, has lost a contest with a skunk, and it likely won't be the last. Our property is heavily wooded and all manner of critters share the space with us, from squirrels, to possums to seasonal wild turkey, to even an occasional deer - AND yes, unfortunately, skunks! For the most part, the animals and I have reached an amicable understanding, which is to say that we keep a respectful distance from one another. ( I won't bother you , if you don't bother me.) As most of these cohabitants come out at night, it's an implied agreement that's fairly easy to honor. Except when Buck gets out in the wee hours of the morning and accidentally comes across an unsuspecting furry friend (or enemy) - then the whole neighborhood gets an earful. (Sorry gang.) At poorly-timed moments like this, I try to remind myself that it's not Buck's fault. Labs are bred to be hunting companions, so I can hardly blame him for following his finely-honed natural instincts. Still, irrespective of his love for the chase, Buck has yet to win a contest with a skunk (or even a squirrel for that matter). "Quick, open the windows, " I instructed my husband, " No, close them, it's worse outside!" Unfortunately, I had my own contest recently that involved a bit of "skunky behavior" by another Realtor from outside our area, who regretfully, represented a listing on which I represented the buyers. The further we got into the transaction, the clearer it became that everything wasn't exactly above board (phew!). This deal involved a "Short Sale" and as short sales go, it may have been fairly standard, except that it didn't smell quite right from the get go. (Shucks - time to catch a varmint!) Thankfully, those kind of antics are atypical in my profession. For the most part, Realtors try to play it straight as our paths tend to cross over and over again. As such, it behooves us (as well as our clients) to deal honestly and fairly with one another. Especially as it's very likely that within a few short months, we will be facing one another again at the negotiating table - often in reversed roles! So with the keen help of my Broker, the involvement of the Title Company manager, a flexible lender, and my incredibly adaptable Buyers, who artfully adjusted with each new wrinkle, we managed to clean up the transaction and close escrow late last week. (Nobody ever said short sales were going to be easy - or short - they're neither.) Moreover, we did it while keeping everybody's integrity intact and with little fallout or drama. Now that's the art of the deal. . . . Suffice it to say that during challenging Real Estate transactions such as this one, I am reminded of just how important it is to have a clear understanding of the objectives we seek and why being represented by a licensed, ethical REALTOR is a very good idea indeed. When one can't control the actions of the other players involved, it's incumbent upon us to make sure our side of the street remains clean, while striving to deliver the desired results. This wasn't a run-of-the-mill kind of encounter (more like a skunk in the night) and it required much more than the perfunctory duties we often perform as agents (it required fumigation, to put it bluntly). With careful orchestration and the unyielding desire to "get it right," The GRUBB Co. was ultimately able to deliver a very successful outcome for our very patient buyers. In other words, we prevailed - in spite of the "skunk in the woods." Regretfully, Buck's encounter ended much less successfully - with a vigorous tomato and peroxide bath and a trip to the showers (at least the water was warm). Unfortunately, my dog still smells like burned rubber - Yuck! Does anybody have a cure for that?
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I slowed to a stop at the corner as the young boy wobbled up the small hill on his shiny new bicycle. Helmet and elbow pads in place, the little boy huffed and puffed, a big smile on his face while his dad drove slowly alongside him in the family Volvo, making sure other drivers on the road gave his son the right-of-way. (You gotta give this kid credit - it's not easy learning to ride a bike in the hills of Piedmont).
Waiting for him to pass, I flashed-backed to my own protective mother teaching me to ride a bike many years ago on a warm summer evening in Sacramento. She ran beside me, her steady hand on the seat and handlebars of the Schwinn until she felt I was secure enough to let go. A gentle push and I was off - until I tried to make a sharp turn and . . . CRASH! A few tears, a skinned knee, a quick hug and some assurance from my mom and I was up and pedaling once again, pigtails flying in the wind. When my turn as the parent came, I taught my kids exactly the same way, trying to navigate the delicate balance between holding on and letting go. I've been thinking a lot about that balance of late. My older son, Case, left for his sophomore year of college at the University of Arizona six weeks ago and since then, I've spoken to him only twice - and both times I initiated the contact (no surprise there). "How's it going? I cheerfully asked. "Fine," Case answered. "How's the new house and the roommate situation?" I pressed. "Good," he replied. "How are your classes?" (C'mon Case, throw me a bone.) "They're okay. I gotta go now mom." CLICK! (Other knowing parents tell me I'll have better luck if I "text" him. I'm questioning just how much I'm paying for college!) I think back to when I moved down to Los Angeles at the tender age of nineteen with little more than my dreams, a futon, and a dance bag crammed into my used Toyota Celica. Rarely did I ever phone home. (Sorry about that mom and dad.) I'd left college to pursue a dance career - foolishly and fearlessly perhaps - but my parents hadn't tried to stop me. I was the fifth in a long line of children and they'd already mastered the art of letting go. After running alongside buyers and sellers - often times for months - there comes a moment in every transaction when we have to simply surrender to the process and "let go." It's a point at which the outcome is no longer ours to steer. That's when suddenly the idea of selling and leaving a home you've loved and cherished for years (or decades!), OR buying one that's in need of major work, OR changing towns, OR changing jobs, OR changing lifestyles - can literally be overwhelming. At these moments, there's often a natural push back, when strong emotions begin to surface and second guessing comes into play. If we don't carefully reign in our objections or expectations with respect to the buying and selling process, this tipping point in negotiations can literally "crash" the deal. The truth is that even the most reasonable of buyers or sellers are likely going to have a moment of doubt as the finish line approaches and it's important (necessary even) to acknowledge and honor that process. A good night's rest, some thoughtful introspection, a great deal of careful consideration, and a bit of understanding about the stakes involved, and buyers and sellers are generally back up and pedaling once again. With a steady hand, a gentle push and some keen guidance, the ride gets easier with practice! "You don't suppose I could just quietly sit downstairs during the Open House?" my client plaintively asked. "I'd love to hear what people are saying." (Uh, no you wouldn't.)
It's not that I don't understand your desire or your inclination to be a "fly on the wall." After weeks of purging, cleaning, and preparing your now fabulous home for the market, it's only natural that homeowners want some well-deserved feedback. (Of course they do!) "Absolutely not," I replied, as sternly as any second-grade school teacher, as I handed them their bags and gently pushed them out the door. "You need to enjoy an afternoon OFF while I take care of the prospective buyers and their agents." The truth is there is nothing more off-putting to buyers than having the expectant sellers remain in the house while they walk through it. Take it from me, there's a host of good reasons why homes are sold via third party negotiators and why agents do their best to keep buyers and sellers APART until AFTER the property closes escrow. Once the property has transferred ownership, by all means, feel free to meet and discuss the drip irrigation system, the combination for the alarm code, and the wild turkeys that visit the property each fall. (Just don't do it before then.) The fact is that no matter how beautifully appointed your home, or how meticulously you have worked to make it darn near "perfect," the new buyers are very likely to repaint the walls, refinish the floors and start mentally tearing down walls. It isn't at all uncommon to hear them speak about "gutting the kitchen," "changing out the baths," and "ripping out the organic garden," even when - and especially if - the sellers have just put them all in! I have a very good friend who lives by the credo: "What other people think of me is none of my business." And from where I sit (guiding anxious buyers and sellers) I think it's a philosophy well worth embracing. No matter how much time and care you have invested in your spectacular home, it won't reflect the taste of the next buyer - nor should it (the home represents your life story - not yet theirs). It's almost a foregone conclusion that the new owners will move in and quickly start changing . . . just about everything. That leather-tufted wet bar downstairs you love - they hate. The floor plan that works so beautifully for your family - is problematic for theirs, and the views that provide unbelievable serenity - are way too far up the hill. Groan . . . (and that's just from my perspective). It's not hard to imagine just how well these "keen observations" go over with emotionally attached sellers who have recently spent a fair amount of time (and money) prepping and staging their lovely home for sale. Selling a home is emotional enough without overhearing these off-handed, "constructive" criticisms and remarks, isn't it? (Yes, it is.) Yet here's the essential element sellers need to understand (are you listening?): buyers cannot begin to place themselves in the home without these conversations taking place. AND what's more, they can't speak freely with you in the home. So do yourselves a favor and plan an afternoon at the movies, go shopping for your new residence or taking some well-deserved time off! (Trust me, I'll take it from here.) Kiss your house goodbye, wish me a successful Open House, and save your desire to meet the buyers until the day you hand over the keys and the remote controls. Take your memories with you and thank the house for all it has carried you through. If you can do that, you are bound to have a much better (and happier) result! "Hey Julie," Cathy's email said. "You are currently signed up for five team dinners, 2 chain-gangs, 2 stats, the cocktail party, 1 gate, and the snack shack . . . (What !?!) Say it ain't so! I'm a gal who doesn't mind pitching in to do my fair share. I've been known to bake cookies, set up for parties, offer my house for gatherings and organize a group or two for school activities. I've driven field trips, sent homemade bouquets on "Teacher Appreciation Day," and worked school lunches. I've been roped in for fund raisers and board meetings, but as excited as my Freshman son is to be playing high school football, I have to admit that I'm less thrilled about the "team parent" aspect of it. I know football is the "holy grail" of high school sports, but this was ridiculous. Who signs up for everything? Evidently, I do. Let's back up just a minute to fill in the blanks . . . our well-organized team parent had placed all of the duties on a web hosting page called "TeamSnap." It's essentially designed to be a community bulletin board, where everything is posted: playing schedules, refreshments, activities, etc. Once "invited" to join your son's or daughter's team, the parent signs on and "SNAP" everything is supposedly at your fingertips (supposedly). Designed to replace the endless stream of emails, TeamSnap is the "go to" for all matters affecting your kid's teams. (In practice, the emails come anyway. I'm not the only adult who couldn't figure it out.) The confusing part (for me, anyway) is that the parents aren't registered on the site - only the team participants (???). So having clicked on to my son's name (per the instructions) I dutifully checked off what I assumed were practice and team dates under the heading of "Availability," but turned out to be a host of other responsibilities as well. (Oops!) Moreover, carpool sign ups had been place in the "Refreshment" tab, making it even more difficult to assign the tasks. Note to TeanSnap - you may want to make it possible to customize this template a bit. But despite all my objections and criticisms about the site, the truth is I hadn't carefully read the entire contents before blithely checking away. Once I hit page 6 of an 18-page sign-up sheet, I was on automatic pilot. Of course, Tristan would be there for every practice and game (that's the commitment one makes to the other team members when taking on a team sport) and I assumed the coaches needed the information with respect to player availability. As for me, I had already signed up for team dinners and carpools the old-fashioned way - on a clipboard at the first team meeting. Wasn't that enough? (Evidently not.) You're actually supposed to read the fine print! (Go figure.) When clients are handed a stack of disclosures (THUMP!) equivalent to Webster's Dictionary (the unabridged version) the mountain of reading material is a bit overwhelming as well. READ IT! Inside you'll find the story of the home you are so keen on buying. And having read it, the next step is to write down any and all questions you have that need explanations or further investigation. And no, it's not a "snap," it's time-consuming, but for most of us - a home purchase represents our single largest investment and asset. Isn't it worth your time tp know what you are buying and where any potential pitfalls may lie? While a good deal of the material is required, "boiler plated" disclosures and proactive "release of liability" language, a good chunk of it is quite specific to the house - and therefore, valuable to know. In short, it's information worth pursuing. In my experience, the best results take place with the most informed buyers. (I didn't say the easiest, I said the best.) So take your time, slow down and read the material, with the understanding that inspections are designed to draw attention to the defects of a home - not gush about its "fabulous views" and "ease of living" (that's called advertisement). You're bound to have a better result if you know all the facts going in - even those you don't necessarily like. At least, you'll be armed with knowledge that is bound to provide clarity. In the meantime, quick, I need to sign back on to TeamSnap and delete a few check marks. Now that I've got some clairity, there's no way I'm hosting all those dinners! "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly," the email said, "and at midnight no less."
Let's be honest, I'm not usually awake at midnight, but I was catching a plane early the next morning and the sad truth is, I'm not the easiest, nor the breeziest of travelers. Of course I was wide awake. What else would I be the night before a trip? There's always an undercurrent of nerves running through me prior to any trip. I worry that the alarm clock won't go off; that I'll sleep through it even if it does; that I'll forget my plane ticket; that I'll miss my flight; that I won't have packed correctly, etc. Never mind that I rarely ever sleep past 6:30 am under any circumstances (what's up with that?), haven't needed an alarm clock in years, and in this case, would have ample time to prepare the following day. Still, I dream of being that girl who casually rises, tosses a few essentials into a designer leather carry-on, applies some lipstick, and skips through security with nary a care in the world. (Oh, and while we're fantasizing, I'd also like to look like Christy Brinkly while doing so.) Alas, that's just not me. Before going on any trip (business or pleasure), I can be found running around deep watering the beds, folding laundry, paying bills, cleaning out the refrigerator, hitting the bank, and organizing a dog sitter - and that's just at home. At work, I am getting my Sunday duties covered (thank you Jane) answering ALL my correspondence, placing advertisements, checking in with clients, and scheduling the week ahead so that I can get a jump start when I return. For me, there are a million details to attend to prior to any departure. Thank goodness, I happen to excel in the details. In fact, if I could just convince the majority of my clients to hand over the "keys to their castle" and let me handle the details for them, I can usually get a property to market within a few short weeks - even those that require extensive painting, staging and landscaping. (Really? Really.) With very little notice, I can arrange a painting crew, direct landscapers, hire window washers, meet with stagers, schedule inspections, calendar the photographer, set up the "Brokers' Tours" and "Sunday Opens," write a compelling marketing campaign, order postcards, customize signage, get a preliminary title report, and put together a disclosure binder for prospective buyers - if you'll let me. In reality, the toughest transactions are those in which a seller fails to trust the process and micro-manages the deal. (I haven't as much control over the nerves of others as I do with respect to my own.) "People buy homes - but they sell houses," my boss, DJ Grubb, is fond of saying. That's true, but when it's reversed, and people are emotionally attached to the sale of their homes, it can be extraordinarily difficult to navigate. Frequently this happens when people have held their properties for many, many years, are really conflicted about moving, unable to let go, unrealistic about the market, or like many of us, a bit of a control freak. (May I suggest real estate as a profession for you?) Sometimes, the only course of action is to step back and let these whirling dervishes have their way before they decide to relinquish control and let me do my job. While the ride is typically a bit bumpier when we take the long route, we usually get there - even when it involves a few false starts along the way. The bonus to the seller who allows me unrestricted access, is twofold: you get to offload your anxiety (on to me) and it typically proves more productive as well. (Consider it a win-win.) Instead of a lengthy, tension-filled transaction (aka, root canal), the process moves rather swiftly and smoothly - and believe me, quick and painless is preferable. In a year that's once again fraught with market volatility, it is critical to get very clear about what your goals are and what you hope to accomplish once you place a home on the market - then it's my job to deliver them to you (keys please). For now, my immediate goal was to get some sleep before the next day's journey. Now where was that phone charger anyway? I don't want to forget to pack it! A few of you have caught on to the fact that I'm now "a chain." Well, not technically, a "chain," but I am now being published in the Piedmont Patch, in addition to my weekly Blog here in The Piedmont Perspective. It's not exactly syndication, but hey, it's a start . . .
Writing twice a week has been an interesting exercise to say the least as the editor had politely suggested, that "a 'Real Estate' column wasn't exactly what The Patch was looking for," but that she felt my observations about life in and around Piedmont might draw a fair amount of attention. (Flattery will get you everywhere Amy - or was that a backhanded compliment? Hmmm.) I can't say readers are exactly clamoring for my autograph, but I have met several who upon introduction, say. "You don't know me, but I know ALL about you!" Or as one very good friend succinctly described it, "Julie throws her family under the bus, and then she says something about real estate too." (Thanks Pam - although I see it more as restitution.) Still, she may have a point, but with a full-time job, two kids and a household to run, I don't really have the time to create two unique columns each week (remember folks, I do this for free) so I've taken the liberty of borrowing liberally from myself, but changing the ending. (Is it still plagiarism if you steal from yourself?) And what I've discovered should probably be taught in high school English - preferably before our kids start writing college entrance essays - and here it is (drum roll please . . .) there's more than one way to finish a story . . . . In fact, it's been a real growing experience to change directions and veer off into completely different endings altogether (as it turn outs, NOT everything is a real estate analogy. Who knew?). However, this is a real estate column so let's connect the dots, which is to say that with respect to real estate - as with story telling - there is often more than one way to go as well. Sure, conventional wisdom would have you paint and stage every house before bringing it to market, but some homes have much better results when sold essentially "As Is" and honestly and aggressively marketed as "fixers." If there are significant structural issues, "putting lipstick on a pig" won't charm the buyer from deducting for major defects - no matter how dressed up that pig is (sorry Wilbur). And with respect to buying - depending on the other players at the table, the number of interested parties, the current lending practices, and your ability to be flexible on terms, there are several interesting ways your offer can play out. Acceptance, rejection, counter offer, are just a few that leap to mind, but they are just the tip of the iceberg. The question I'm most often asked - the moment a prospective buyer sees a house they like - is, "What's this house going to go for?" And to no ones' surprise I suspect, it is almost exactly the same question sellers ask as well. "How much am I going to get?" (In other words, "show me the money.") Here's the unvarnished truth - "I don't know" (and neither does anyone else)! Until we have a real sense of the condition of the house (investigations and disclosures) the interest surrounding the listing (the number of parties writing) and the strength of the competition (WHO exactly will be writing?) it's all guess work. Absent that information, I'm truly stabbing in the dark. So while I often have a strong sense of where the market will lead, what I don't know exactly, is . . . how the story will end. Remember, we only control half of the equation at any given time (yes, there are agents who represent both sides of a transaction, but I'm not one of them) and the only surprise ending I seek, is one in which the sellers get quite a bit more than they anticipated OR the buyers pay less than they expected. (That rarely happens in Piedmont, but it's nice when it does.) In the meantime, I will do my best to inform you, based on the supportable data, the current market performance, my "hands-on" experience, my day-to-day observations and my highly atuned instincts. I'll seek to guide you in a way that makes sense for your family, advise you as to any relevant developments, advocate on your behalf, and support you throughout the process - and then I'll do my best to deliver the result you desire. (What more can you ask?) But how the story ends? That's up to the market. Here's to happy endings! "Can you outline the timeline for the short sale and what to expect next?" my client thoughtfully inquired upon hearing the news that his purchase offer had been accepted.
"I wish I could," I said. Frankly, I'm not sure anybody knows. From the agents, to the short sale negotiator, to the banks, there doesn't seem to be a set protocol that each lending institution follows with any consistency. Sure, there are the requisite forms to be filled out and hoops to jump through, but as a buyer of a "short sale" property, you are definitely hanging out there in the GREAT UNKNOWN (and as your Realtor, so am I). I'm not sure if we're in in the "Land of Oz" or the "Wild, Wild West." "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Should I congratulate my clients on their successful ratification or offer my condolences? I suppose only time will tell. And time seems to be the one unifying thread with respect to "short-sale" transactions. Don't be fooled into thinking they're a cake walk, short sales take a fair amount of TIME! While a typical real estate transaction runs about 30 days once in contract and involves fairly firm time lines that both parties strive to meet; short sales can extend weeks beyond the 30-day standard, if not months . . . . So if enrolling your child into school in time for the fall semester is high on your priority list, steer clear of a "short sale" by all means. In sharp contrast to a standard 30-day contract, the Short Sale Addendum establishes a minimum of 45 days to work through the channels AND it isn't uncommon for the listing agent to ask for more time while the bank determines if the seller will indeed qualify for "hardship" and thus agree to "short" the sale. (We're waiting, we're waiting, we're waiting . . . well beyond 45 days.) The hurdles become higher if there is more than one lien on the property, as every lien holder must agree to absorb a hit, take pennies on the dollar, or worse yet, surrender the debt altogether. (You might imagine that doesn't go over too easily.) Let's back up a moment to explain to the uninitiated that a "short sale" is one in which the seller is selling the home for less than they owe on the outstanding mortgage, thereby creating the "short" component. In order to successfully transfer title, the lenders must agree to take substantially less than they are owed on the property. Got it? (I knew you would.) Before you start down the yellow brick road, understand that 9 out of 10 short sale requests won't qualify, so the odds are very much against you (I suppose this is where a good "short sale negotiator" earns their keep?) Understand that the "short sale negotiator" is neither the listing nor the selling agent, but a third party brought in to keep things on track and negotiate the loss - AND FOR THAT, THEY CHARGE A FEE - which is often passed on to the buyer (the assumption being that the seller has no money). Still, there is good news, which is that no monies are exchanged until after the bank agrees to accept the offer - not even your 3% good faith deposit! (Oh, that makes it more palatable.) And inspections needn't be scheduled until then either - unless you want a clearer picture of the property sooner, rather than later. In the big picture, it may be worth a few thousand dollars to find out the condition of the home, rather then hanging out on a limb for months, while missing out on other viable opportunities. Now for the bad . . . the bank reserves the right to take a higher offer at any point in the transaction (ANY POINT!), so regardless of an acceptance, you're not assured the home is yours until you actually close escrow. In short (pun intended), you could wait for months, only to get passed at the finish line by another buyer willing to pay more. (Oh, that's not so nice.) Moreover, as the buyer, you are entirely committed during the decision period. What? (The buyer can't breach the contract, but the bank can? Right.) So depending on the time line on which you agree, you are going to be locked in for a minimum of a few months - at the very least. (Hmmm . . .) It's also important to note that banks are less inclined to negotiate on the price after having already approved an offer based on any negative findings during your inspections, as they are already taking a substantial loss on the loan. Mind you, I've little sympathy for the lending institutions in this scenario, but they may have a point. Banks answer to shareholders and bottom lines - not to buyers looking for a steal. Not to mention that you are probably dealing with someone on the corporate food chain who may or may not care much about your concerns (or your desire for a good deal). In all likelihood, you are just a random number to them. (If they only had a brain.) So in closing, IF you have time to spare (LOTS of time), IF you don't mind being locked into a home you have no guarantee of owning, IF you have the patience of Job, and if you have a strong stomach for risk, a Short Sale may be the "Emerald City" you desire. Just keep your broomstick handy because you may need it. (Can I please interest you in another property? One that hasn't fallen on the wicked witch of the east?) But if you insist on pursuing the short sale avenue, just keep saying: "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home. . ." . "I like the house," my client said, "but I wish we were both doing cartwheels over it. That would make the decision a whole lot easier." That's true, it would. I hear you - a back flip, a handstand, or even a small summersault might suffice. "Yoo hoo - this is the one!" Take it from me, it almost never happens like that.
Thinking about the five homes my husband and I have bought in the last 20 years, there hasn't been a single one over which either of us have enthusiastically jumped for joy (although we were thrilled to be in a position to purchase - I don't want to sound too ungrateful). The truth is, I didn't like any of them much and one house, I absolutely hated. From our first flat on Seventh Avenue in San Francisco, which was in real disrepair (a recurring theme), to our current home on Littlewood (which we bought for the setting, the garden and the gazebo - not the house), Cliff and I have never had the luxury to buy a "turn-key" home or to just follow our hearts. But to be fair, they all presented a "solution" in the moment and they all turned out to be profitable. Instead, we steered a course and followed a path - which eventually landed us here, in Piedmont (not too shabby)! However, every single home held tremendous "potential," which got me to thinking that most people don't really buy the home of their heart's desire - they buy the promise of a home; or the promise of what it can be. (Oh and btw, the same is true for marriage. We embrace the "promise;" yes?) But first it begins with a starting point. This is just as true for the $400,000 buyer as it is for the $4,000,000 one. As evidence, just look at the big, BIG homes here in town that are currently undergoing construction. One was recently rebuilt from top to bottom and rumor has it, that the new owner intends to gut it and start anew. (Really?) The point is, regardless of how much one spends, all homes evolve into what we want and need them to be with some effort and intention. They become ours over time, and often, they become better for it. A wise and wonderful friend summed it up when he said his motto in life is "expect good," which I love and wholeheartedly agree with, but mine would have to be "aspire." Aspire to goodness, aspire to kindness, aspire to dream . . . With all of the gymnastics the banking industry has experienced and the flip-flops that housing has endured these past few years, purchasing a home in today's world takes real courage. Instead of "jumping for joy," we are often asked to "jump through hoops." (What a drag.) So in the face of housing gymnastics and all that we risk, of course we want certainty. We want "value" and above all we want to know we have made a good decision. (Wow - that's an ambitious bill to fill.) No wonder buyers are often tentative and fearful. Who could blame them? (Not me.) Buyers are often walking a tightrope and yes, that can be scary, if not downright paralyzing. But here's what I've discovered along the way (just my two cents) - one can never buy a home in fear, one can only successfully complete this transaction in hope. You have to "aspire" to the dream of home ownership and then deal with each challenge as it arises (and count on it, there will be challenges aplenty). Whether you are facing a multiple bidding situation or you are alone at the negotiating table, you need to progress with belief and with faith or you will be looking for an "exit strategy" from the moment your offer is accepted. An experienced Realtor will help you outline the pros and cons, encourage you to thoroughly inspect the property, arrange for any specialists to weigh in with their opinions, outline a strategy for purchasing the home, and thoughtfully walk you through the entire process from beginning to end. But even with ALL that information to be gained, at the end of the day the decision to buy must be based on "hope" or you'll look back with regret. So how's the tale end? It's still very much a work in progress. My current home has come a long way in seven years and I like it a whole LOT better now then when we first purchased it - at very near the height of the market (no, you weren't alone). Still, it isn't perfect by a long shot AND I'm still "hoping" to remodel the kitchen at some future point. Curious readers ask me if I've finished the remodel? The truth is, "yes and no." I joke that "I'm out of money so I must be done" (at least for the foreseeable future) and that's the reality for most of us. Isn't it? That's okay, I've got time on my side. Still when I focus on the solutions, as opposed to the problems, I find the answers come. If I am not yet doing cartwheels, I'm warming up for them. I might even jump for joy a little. Expect good and then "ASPIRE!" "Sky! Plane! Airplane! Plane crash! Yes, Yes, YES!" screamed the boys in an unbelievable come-from-behind victory in Pictionary last Saturday night, which had all three teams scribbling frantically for the win in a game so loud and wild, that the neighbors surely heard our boisterous antics (and that's not easy to do on my property).
Alas, the boys (who had been so far behind they hadn't even been in contention a few minutes earlier) beat the moms' AND the dads' teams in the final, exciting stretch. A large pile of cast off sketches littered the table while the boys joyfully danced around the dining room in sheer and utter glee (better known as the "victory dance" in my household) while the rest of us laughed and shook our heads with wonder, exclaiming, "Foul!" "Cheaters!" "The game was rigged!" (Mature, I know.) What fun! What silliness and what a surprise in the very last round. I haven't played Pictionary for a few years now, but like all games, I'm reminded of just how quickly things can change and how a seemingly "done deal" can shift in the last final moments (sounds an awful lot like real estate - yes?). Ironically, I had been working on a supposedly "done deal" all day long, but the final hurdle lay in the sale of the Buyers' home and ultimately, it had an unanticipated outcome, which resulted in some last minute shifts with respect to the Sellers' end. This is what's known as the "Contingency Sale;" where one successful transaction is based on the successful completion of another. In other words, the two home sales are intimately linked together. It's a roll of the dice to be sure, but for some properties, it may be the best option - in fact, it might be the only option. As you might imagine, eleventh inning surprises are rarely welcome, but the better news was that the Buyers were were still willing to complete the transaction; they just needed some help to get there . . . It's important to remember that until ALL contingencies are removed, there is always the possibility of further negotiation. Such are the realities of today's marketplace. Negotiation is part and parcel of every transaction and as such, it requires more flexibility from both buyers and sellers - and in this instance, more creativity as well. With everyone's participation and contribution (and with emotions quietly set aside) we managed to bridge the gap and come to an accord. Happily, the close of escrow is now locked in and the "Sold" sign has been posted. Finally, at long last, and after months of challenges, the deal is "done." Everybody relax and breathe . . . Situations such as these remind me that things have a way of working out if we stay open to the possibilities and opportunities, if we realistically manage our "expectations," and if we artfully navigate the challenges when presented. That's not only real estate, that's life . . . Moreover, that's the nature of every "deal" in a nutshell - even when we think we're "done." "House! Lawn! Garden! Real Estate!" (Yes!) Rematch! I am just coming off three looong days of baseball, having spent the Memorial Day weekend alongside my husband, my younger son, Tristan, his baseball teammates, and a large contingency of family and friends, at what was to be our last Citrus Heights Tournament ever.
Having participated in this same tournament for several years now, first with our older son, Case, and now again with Tristan, it's with mixed feelings that Cliff and I watch Tristan grow up and age out of this particular field of players. Next year he'll move up to his local Piedmont High School team here in town and then it's just a few short years until he's off to college. (My, they do grow up fast.) As such, Tristan harbored (and shouldered) a lot of expectations going into the weekend. As the only available catcher for his team and after enjoying some exceptional results with the bat all season long (a talent he most definitely didn't inherit from me) Tristan expects - and often delivers - "magic" when he's at the plate, staring down a pitcher. (When it comes to baseball, Tristan has definitely enjoyed more than his fair share of success.) After a walk-off hit by a teammate in the first game, the boys were off to a very exciting start. Alas, in the second game, they were soundly beaten and by Sunday night, there was NO possible way to secure a spot for Monday's finals and the tournament trophy - no matter what the result. Even so, with only one run separating Piedmont from Pleasanton, with two outs on the board in the last inning of the final game, and with two Piedmont players in scoring positions, Hollywood itself, couldn't have written a more exciting ending. (Can you say "clutch situation?") All of us watched with baited breath as Tristan stepped into the batter's box. Gripping the bat and tapping his shoulder three times (his signature trademark) Tristan set his feet and cocked his elbows in ready position . . . . The first pitch fouled way down the third-base line. Tap, tap, tap - swing and a miss. Tap, tap, tap - "ball." Tap, tap, tap -" ball." Tap, tap, tap - "Foul!" came the call, as the next pitch slid off Tristan's bat and slammed into the backstop. Tap, tap, tap . . . CRACK! Here's the one we had been waiting for. The ball flew UP, UP, UP . . . before sailing neatly into the left fielder's outstretched glove. "Out! And that's the game folks," barked the announcer. (Oh, bummer!) That's not the way it was suppose to play out. Sadly, for my son and his team, this wasn't the Hollywood ending they had been hoping for. Welcome to life. We don't always get to write the fairy tale ending we seek. You might imagine this is true in Real Estate as well and you'd be right. Given our clients' budgets and restraints, even the best agents don't always get to write the winning offer. Would it surprise you to know that there are times, when I discourage buyers from writing at all? What's that you say? Not write? (Right!) No matter how emotionally invested you are in a home, there are situations when it behooves you - the buyer - to "opt out" and NOT write, especially when there are multiple offers being presented and you simply haven't the wherewithal to swim in deep waters. In that situation, you are better off treading water and letting the more aggressive players compete for the home, while waiting for an opportunity that better aligns with your circumstances, instead of adding to the mix. Really? (Really.) Drafting a less than stellar offer on a home that's been strategically priced to create a feeding frenzy, only pushes the rest of the company northward, thereby creating a higher comp for the next listing to hit the street. (Did you follow that?) In short, the house was never intended to sell at its listed price. It's only meant to entice. Properties priced well below what they should be, often create an auction of this type and they tend to play out with several disappointed buyers who never really stood a chance and one successful bidder who ultimately paid a premium for the privilege. Unless you want to use the experience as a "dress rehearsal" for the next home, several writes, can definitely make a wrong, and ultimately prove very discouraging to the unsuccessful bidder over time (nobody likes being rejected over and over). Regardless of the seller's expectations, the market is the market and it remains true to form. Savvy buyers aren't easily fooled. So if your expectations are in line with the market, I can work with that. If it's a fairy tale ending you seek, that's much tougher to abide. Take heart, they'll be other opportunities coming your way (which is what I told my son who wasn't inclined to hear me at that very moment). Whew, it's tough being a mother. (It's not much easier being a Realtor in these situations either.) |
AuthorJulie Gardner, has been writing The Perspective for 18 years and has published more than 750 humorous but always informative, essays on life and real estate. Categories
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