16 | January | 2014 | Love's Real Stories

January 16, 2014

Wrong and Right

If you want to see into the future, you just have to know where to look. For instance, if you’re going to see into the future of the real estate market, you need look no further than right here. After years of researching magazines, newspapers, and websites for the most reliable real estate prognosticators, I have discovered the best one right here in the North Valley.

The prognosticator of whom I speak, AJ, has a bad track record for predicting the future of the real estate market. He’s been wrong ten years in a row. But that’s the key. AJ is so reliably lousy, all you have to do is listen to his predictions, and then go with the opposite.

I called AJ.

“So what you are telling me,” said AJ, “is that people perceive my conjectures and estimations of market projections, which I base upon thorough research and data compilation, as somehow inaccurate?”

“Yes.”

“In what way do they express such a perception?”

“They say that you are wrong,” I said.

“Preposterous,” he said. “My predictions are many-factored and should not be dismissed in one broad stroke.”

I reminded him of his prediction for the market in 2006, the worst year for a downturn in the history of the market since the Great Depression. His prediction at the time was: “Prices are rising and they won’t stop now. The three most important words in real estate for 2006 are buy, buy, buy.”

AJ admitted to a “slight inaccuracy” in that prediction.

“My words were taken greatly out of context, which caused a knee-jerk reaction among the less enlightened,” he said.

I asked if by “knee-jerk reaction” he was referring to the flaming arrows stuck in his door, and the ‘yelp’ comments on the internet which had to be deleted because of foul language and violent intent.

“Quite unfortunate and very unenlightened.” he said.

I reminded him of his 100% wrong-prediction record from that time until now.

“My words have been taken out of content, and greatly misconstrued,” he said.

I asked him his prediction for 2014.

“The overall economy cannot sustain the slight rise in the real estate market we saw last year. Activity will decrease and we will experience devaluation. I regret being the bearer of bad news.”

Coming from AJ, that’s good news.

January 16, 2014

Must Sell Now

“I need you to list my house, man. I must sell now! Time is of the essence!”

That message was good news. I would love a new listing.

I drove straight over to the address. The front door was open and loud music poured out. I knocked on the door jamb and called out. “Hello?”

A skinny wild-eyed guy with long stringy hair jumped into view from the interior. “What’s wrong, man?” he shouted.

I said I received a message to list a house. Did he call?

“Oh, yeah!” He dashed off into the house. “Come on in, man, we’re getting ready to sell. Time is of the essence, right?”

The interior looked like an active garbage dump. Bottles, fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts, and furniture askew covered the floor. A skinny German shepherd was licking a pizza box.

The guy leaped out the back door.

“Here’s my wife!” he shouted. She was crawling up and down the back patio methodically arranging a couple dozen potted plants in two straight lines, sliding them an inch or two this way or that, then repeating the process, her eyes in a fixed stare. Other than the two rows of potted plants, the back yard was a replica of the interior: piles of garbage and junk.

I was mystified, but I told them I would do some research on market value and return the next day to discuss a listing.

“For sure, man!” said the guy. “Totally! Time is of the essence!”

Back at the office I described the bizarre scene to my wily old mentor KDV.

“Sounds flaky,” said KDV. ”Reminds me of some of the pads I’ve seen in the Hollywood Hills, babe. Don’t get your hopes up.”

The next day I knocked at the front door. I heard no music and got no answer. I was turning to leave when the door opened slowly. The guy peered at me, eyes half-shut, with total non-recognition. I reminded him of our plan to discuss listing the house.

“Oh yeah?” he said slowly, “No way I’m selling, man.”

Mystified again, I drove away thinking ‘flaky is right.’

A week later I received another message from the guy: “I need you to list my house, man. I must sell now! Time is of the essence!”

Normally that message would be good news.

January 16, 2014

Draw the Line

A certain word associated with country property should never be forgotten. Hard lessons are learned when it is.

The lesson for me began with a phone message from my client, Jill:

“We have a problem. Would you give us a call, please?” Her voice was shaky. “Freddy won’t go away!”

Jill and her husband Jack closed escrow and moved into their new country home just a week prior. “Freddy” was the seller, Mr. Johnson, an old mountain man who didn’t say much. Jill dubbed him Freddy after a character in a horror movie. “He just creeps me out,” she would say. “He stares at us. And he wears that black felt hat and plaid jacket.”

I first met Freddy, that is, Mr. Johnson, at the side of the road. He held a rumbling chain saw, and stared at me. He made it clear I had inconvenienced him by interrupting his work.

“I’m looking for the owner of the property up the road, the two-story house with the pond in back,” I said.

He stared.

I explained I had buyers for country property and I was scouting for them. Did he know who owns the property?

“Yep.”

Did he know their name?

“Yep.”

Several ‘yep’s later, I determined he was, in fact, the owner in question. I eventually listed Mr. Johnson’s property, and Jill and Jack bought it.

I returned Jill’s call.

“Freddy’s up there right now,” she said. “At our pond!”

Forty minutes later, I stood next to Mr. Johnson.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” he said. The pond was the best feature of the property; clear, fresh, and private, surrounded by sycamores, maples and oaks.

As tactfully as I could, I told Mr. Johnson that Jill and Jack were uncomfortable with his unannounced visits. “It is their property now,” I said.

“Pond ain’t on the property,” he said, “this here’s BLM land.”

“But the fence line…….”

“Old cow fence,” he said.

I flinched and recalled a vision of my old mentor, KDV. “A certain word associated with country property should never be forgotten, babe,” he said. “Listen, bro, the only way country buyers will know what they’re buying, is if they get a………..”

“Survey,” I said out loud. “We should have gotten a survey!”

Mr. Johnson stared at me. “Yep.”