Open-house characters
A real estate agent’s rundown of the types who wander through your place,
Wow — what an experience.
My last open house shined a light on all the “characters,” that come through your average open house on Saturday and Sunday from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., and believe me when I say it was a revolving door at this insanely busy property in the east end.
Some folks make you smile, some make you shake your head, and some try to frustrate you, but what else should we expect? It’s a public open house, and these are not all savvy buyers, and seasoned real estate veterans.
The following is not a complete list, but it’s the highlights and the lowlights combined. One hundred and twenty people visited this house in the space of two days, making it one of the busiest open houses I’ve had in years.
There were a lot of very interested buyers; many of whom were actively looking, and used this as a chance to check out the house for the second time, having already come with their agents.
But then, as always, there were the characters. And all characters have names . . .
Captain Prepared and Supergirl
This couple came in, and they were ready. They looked like they stayed up all night planning their attack. Between the two of them, they were holding a clipboard, a leather padfolio, measuring tape, flashlight, voltage detector and what looked like a moisture reader.
They came inside, looked left, looked right, almost stood back to back, and then as though they broke out of a football huddle (minus the “reaaady BREAK” and clap), one of them headed upstairs, and one downstairs.
I didn’t follow them, so I’m not sure what exactly they were doing, but she came up from the basement with a pad full of notes, and when they passed each other on the stairs leading to the second level, he remarked, “Can’t pass by — stairs are narrow,” as she instinctively pulled out a measuring tape and investigated the width. They didn’t ask a single question, and then left.
The Spite-Filled, Would-Be Buyer
This woman walked inside, and walked with purpose, as she approached me and picked up a feature sheet, all while keeping eye contact.
She looked at the price, and said, “$1,990,000, hmmm? So, if I offered you that price right now would you take it?”
You know where this is going, right? She wanted a fight. She wanted to entice me into an argument because she’s frustrated with the price of real estate and the way it’s sold in Toronto.
I told her, “I wouldn’t take the offer, or leave it. It’s not my house. I’m the agent.”
She forced out a nasal laugh, and said, “Would your clients be open to negotiating on the price?”
She had no interest in the house. She just wanted to fight about today’s real estate market. So I gave her what she wanted.
“Actually, ma’am, offers are being reviewed on Monday evening at 7 p.m.”
Her eyes lit up, and she launched into a tirade that I just know she had been practising for 20 minutes as she walked up the street, and I sat there, and took it. I can’t say I blame her. Wait, no. I can . . .
Carpet Girl
Tell me if I’m out of line here, but if you were at the ballet, you wouldn’t stand up in the middle and start screaming at the lead ballerina to ask her where she got her dress.
This woman came into the open house on Saturday and marvelled at the property — specifically the carpet.
She said it would be a perfect fit for her new family room, and asked me if I knew where it came from.
I did, in fact. So I told her: “This came from the stagers’ warehouse.”
She was disappointed, and asked me if I could help her source the carpet.
I told her that perhaps there was a tag on the carpet, and to peel up each of the four corners to see if perhaps a model number or barcode was present.
Alas, there was not. But she didn’t want to give up.
So she asked me if I could reach out to the stager to inquire as to where they got the carpet from, and I said that I would. And I did. I emailed my stager, took down the woman’s info, and told her I would be in touch if I heard back.
On Sunday afternoon, I was a bit surprised to see the woman again, since she had already been through the house on Saturday, and I had a feeling she wasn’t really a buyer.
She offered a polite salutation, and then stood there, somewhat sheepishly.
I had to draw it out of her — but finally, she asked, “ANY WORD FROM THE STAGER?” She was red-faced with excitement. It’s just a carpet. Right? I told her that unfortunately, I hadn’t heard back from the stager. She acted like her grandmother just died, and she begged me to find out about the carpet.
I went on with my open house for the next hour-and-a-bit, packed up my laptop, locked the door, and left.
You meet a lot of people at open houses, but 99.9 per cent of them are people you never hear from, or interact with again.
On Monday morning, I’m sitting in my office, drinking my Tim Hortons, and my email “ding” goes off :
“Hi David, hope you had a great weekend! Any news on that carpet?” Amazing.
The Nicest People You’ve Ever Met
This couple was so cute!
It was like a Saturday Night Live skit, with Will Ferrell and Cheri Oteri and their eyes wide open with excitement, ear-to-ear grin and jaw dropped.
They walked around like they’d never been in a house before, and then the guy said to me, “Do you think it would be OK if we saw the basement?”
I told them to have at it, and they came up a few minutes later.
They approached the stairs leading to the second level, and paused, as though their feet were stuck in mud.
I watched from the corner of my eye, waiting, waiting . . . waiting, for the inevitable: “Could we maybe go upstairs and see what’s up there?” Why can’t everybody be this nice? Maybe not this clueless and helpless but at least this nice . . .
The Know-It All
You always get one of these guys at the open house.
He’s usually thin, tall, plain, and with wirerimmed glasses. He’s usually wearing a shortsleeve dress shirt, too.
This time, he started with, “Any knob-and-tube wiring in the house?” A simple question, but my simple, “Nope” answer was too short for his liking. “How can you be sure?” he asked. “My clients have renovated extensively, and they didn’t find any. They bought the house from sellers who also had renovated, and there was no knob-and-tube wiring then.” He shook his head, as though I just told him his wife’s cooking tasted like crap. “Is the supply line from the street half-inch or 3/4-inch?” he asked, without missing a beat. “Half inch,” I told him, but he wasn’t interested in the answer since he’d already moved on to, “Did these owners underpin the basement? Did they find any moisture when they did so?” I mean, I know he’s being diligent, I get it.
Just trust me when I say he didn’t care about the answers. “Is all the plumbing in the house copper?” he asked. “Yes, I believe so.” I told him. He smiled. It was what you call a bleep-eating-grin. “Nah. Nah man. There’s Kitec down there. I saw a blue tube under the stairs.” Then he gave me the dressingdown he was waiting for: “Listen man, I’m gonna give you a piece of advice. You can’t go around telling people it’s all copper piping when there’s Kitec. It’s not the same thing, and you’re misrepresenting the property.” I smiled, and thanked him for his help.