Mrs. Dante and I toyed with the idea of selling our house a couple of months ago, and we had a prominent local real estate broker come over to give us an estimate on our home. Let me tell you about his presentation.
He came over to our house with a DVD and a bag of microwaveable popcorn. And a pot of chrysanthemums. How delightful. The DVD was of himself describing how he would market our home, replete with cheesy catch phrases. While watching this badly acted travesty (I kept expecting a porn scene and a heavy bass line soundtrack to break out), he noisily ate popcorn (IRL, not on the DVD). Chomp, chomp, smack, chomp.
Then it was blah blah blah, sign this, blah blah blah, exclusive commitment until October, blah blah blah, my commission is 10%, blah blah blah…
So you know what we did? We signed it! That’s right, put our John Hancock’s right on there just as happy as you please. Why? I have no clue. I have a bullshit tolerance of nearly zero, and I still signed this damn contract. He cast a glamour over us, I suspect.
A few days later, we comes to our senses, and call and tell him we’ve decided not to sell our house. No problem, keep us in mind. No sweat.
Cut to two days ago. A couple of things have changed. Firstly, we’ve educated ourselves on what a real estate broker is supposed to do. Secondly, 10% commission!? You crazy. We want out.
So I call the office and speak to Bob, the broker’s lackey. I inform Bob that we are in the house market again, but we have no wish to use this broker’s services. As follows:
Dante: We’ve decided to use another broker that was recommended to us. So we would like to be released from the contract we signed.
Bob: Why?
Dante: Well, as the Ontario Real Estate Association’s website recommends, we’re using someone who is familiar with the area in which we wish to move.
Bob: As opposed to someone who’s familiar with the area you’re selling in?
Dante: Um, sure, why not.
(When I’m not in the mood to argue, I just agree with everything, even if it makes me sound like a congenital idiot. I don’t care much about Bob’s opinion of me.)
Bob: Well, I’ll have to call the broker and discuss it with him.
Dante: Fine, you or he can call me back and let me know.
Yesterday, His Bobness gives me a call back. This is almost word for word, with a chunk deleted, because it’s repetitively repetitive.
Bob: Dante, I’m going to be in your area, so I’d like to stop by and go over this with you.
Dante: Go over what? There’s nothing to go over. Either he’ll release us from the contract or he won’t.
Bob: I’m going to be in your area around 7:00. Is that good for you?
Dante: Um, no. Were you listening to what I just said? There’s nothing to discuss. I thought I had made that clear. I just need a yes or no answer from him.
Bob: Well, we just want to make sure you’re making the right decision.
(Yeah, that’s what he’s concerned about.)
Dante: I don’t see where my decision making process is any of your affair. The fact is the decision’s has been made. I just need a yes or no answer.
Bob: You mentioned that you had another broker that you wanted to use. Do you mind if I ask who it is?
Dante: Yes.
Bob: Sorry?
Dante: Yes, I do mind.
Bob: Well, I just want to talk to the broker…
Dante: Look, I don’t seem to be getting through to you here. This matter is not open to discussion, negotiation, or alteration. We don’t want to use your services at all, and certainly not at a 10% commission level.
Bob: Who told you 10%?
Dante: The broker did.
Bob: You must have misheard him.
Dante: That could be entirely possible, however I doubt I’m misreading the sheets of calculations wherein the broker commission level is calculated at the 10% level over and over again.
Bob: Well, it must be some kind of misunderstanding.
Dante: I’m sure it is. The broker understood us to be suckers, and it turns out that’s not the case.
Bob: I’m sure he was just joking.
Dante: Hysterical. He just joked himself out of over $10,000. So just have him call me with a yes or no answer. I’m going to hang up the phone now, because I don’t want to talk to you anymore.
click
My wife is looking at me with her mouth agape. For one, she can’t believe I talk to people like that. She’s much nicer and less confrontational than I am. Second, she can’t believe this idiot didn’t get the hint! We start talking and laughing about it, and I’m giving her his side of the conversation. Then, the oddest thing happens…
Dante: I can’t believe this asshole was so persistent. You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if he just shows up anyway.
Mrs. Dante: There’s no way. Not after that.
knock knock knock
We look at each other. We look around for the familiar three camera set-up that most sitcoms use. Nothing. I go to the door. Yep, it’s Bob. He’s holding promo material. And a pot of chrysanthemums. No, I’m not kidding.
Bob: I just wanted…
Dante: What the hell are you doing here?! (Truly, I’m irked)
Bob: Well, I wanted to come over and…
Dante: I remember you saying that. I remember me saying no. Yet, here you stand.
Bob: I wanted to discuss…
Dante: Bob, we have nothing to discuss. Seriously, please leave.
Off goes Bob.
So now I’m just waiting to hear from the actual broker. Wish me luck.
:apologies to the hamsters for the length of this post: