The reason I've been incommunicado lately is because Big D, Little D and I have been on the house hunt. And boy is it a hunt. Let me share a story with you about one slithery little predator we encountered.
So, our sweet little family made an appointment to view our very first listing. And we loved it. It had everything we wanted. Except a driveway and a garage. But hey, its New York. You can't have everything.
We put an offer in right away, all the while discussing just how we'd decorate the place. What kind of grill and garden furniture we'd use. I was representing us as a real estate broker - yes, I wear many hats - and we were able to move quickly. Making us great prospective buyers. So I thought.
Enter Anita the Cheata, we'll call her, the seller's broker. She refused to send a counter-offer to what was, by all accounts, a very good offer. As a matter of fact, she launched into a rant about my lack of business cards - and anything else she could think up - at the visit. You know, the visit to the seller's house that she didn't attend. You see, what I didn't know about New York is that some real estate agents are sharks.
Anita the Cheata didn't like it that I was representing myself. She wanted the commission that I, as the buyer's broker, would have earned. And boy did she try everything to get it. Including reminding me about my relative newness to the business and downright refusing to respond to my offer. Or cooperate in any way. It all left me wondering whether my being a person of color had anything to do with her acidic response to us.
But don't cry for me Argentina. Anita the Cheata actually did me, well, us, a favor. We would have settled on that house, and wouldn't have discovered the one we absolutely love. And worse, we would have allowed an undeserving sales agent the joy of receiving a good chunk of change for the holidays. Coal in your stocking Anita!
Here's to a successful house hunt. Wish us luck. We just may need it.