Selling Your house is hard
Don’t buy a house.
There. I warned you.
My house selling journey started fairly normally. Lots of cleaning, some decorating (literally flinging white paint at any walls that needed a freshen up), clearing out any shit that I’d been hanging on to for no other reason than I couldn’t be bothered to get rid of it. Meetings with estate agents to get an idea of value, what the market was like and to figure out how to make it sell quickly.
Estate agents are good at waffle, just by the way. Much like any sales person, they tell you what you want to hear. I went with the one that said he’d put it on for the highest price, a certain colourful brick company …
Anyway, so I booked the photographer, cleaned the house to WITHIN AN INCH OF IT’S LIFE, like it hadn’t been that clean since I moved in. I’d booked the photographer for 9am, nice and early, more chance of it being online first thing Monday, that way. It was the weekend of all the storms and he’d text me that if the bad weather kept up he wouldn’t be round. Even though he lived in the same town as me… Not the best impression.
9am rolls around, no photographer.
9.10am still no photographer.
9.15am still no photographer.
Now I’m pissed off, I don’t like being late and I hold other people to that standard, especially when you book a professional appointment.
So I text him and ask where he is.
“I’m leaving in 5, be there soon.” - I’m sorry what? You’re already half an hour late… why haven’t you left yet?! Then I whipped out the passive aggression, petty I know, but it felt right.
“Oh okay, thanks for letting me know. I thought the appointment was booked for 9?”. Ha, yes, got you ya wee shite.
I then got a groveling apology both via text and face to face. The actual pictures looked great - he redeemed himself, marginally.
So the house advert goes up, pretty hitch free. The viewings started coming in, I was feeling positive.
First week I had about 6 viewings. One of which was a bit weird. So it’s a young family, they come in separately not wanting to wake the sleeping baby in the car, that’s fine, I’m not a parent but I could understand that. Then they sat outside my house for like half an hour in their car, I felt very pinned in. I mean my living room window was looking at them - I felt like I was being watched. They moved off, then I was walking Lola round the estate and there they were again… I mean I wasn’t trying to be negative about it, I got it, but still was a wee bit thingy about it. But I shouldn’t have been - they put in an offer!
This was the Friday, then on the Saturday I had two more viewings all very samey, “here’s the cupboard, oh yes I’m charming, buy my house, let me be free, the gas and electricity bill are incredibly cheap because it’s a new build. BUY MY HOUSE” vibes.
My vibes worked! I had another offer in! I think I nearly peed my pants. So there were offers, I accepted one. ONE WEEK after the house had been listed - this was it.
Freedom was on the horizon … Until the next day when they withdrew. Honestly, I’ve never been hit in the face with a spade but that’s how it felt.
No worries, I’ll accept the other offer, simple right. No, of course it’s not, that was withdrawn too.
This then led to a few more viewings but no further bites. The house dropped in price by 10k, with the ambition to get offers over the new asking price.
Following this, more viewings, all very normal … mainly.
One woman said, to my face, “Did they even fucking measure it?”. Like wow, you don’t have to like the house but no need to be rude. There were also other really random comments made on the app I was using such as “I booked by mistake, nice house but not for me” - with a 2 star rating. Like that’s not my fault that’s yours.
Or another “Andrea was lovely, shame about the size of the rooms” - you’re not buying me mate …
Other weird conversations, included how secure I thought my internet was, did I like Coventry’s nightlife, what were the neighbours kids like. I mean relevant but how am I supposed to know?!
However the best story from selling my house is yet to come.
So, I have to preface this with another story. My house has 3 toilets, a downstairs loo for building regs, an ensuite and a family bathroom. The day before, the best story, 3 men came to visit my house. I was on my own with my chihuahua sized dog, it was quite intimidating. They had a fairly normal viewing, then asked if they could use the toilet, I mean I have 3 it would probably be weirder to say no. So off they trot to the toilet one after another, weird but fine.
The next day another man comes to view the house. All very normal. I was on form with my “Buy my house, yes the garden is lovely, gas and electricity is cheap, BUY MY HOUSE vibe”, I asked if he had any questions and he said yes, internally I was thinking - great this means he’s interested, “Can I use your toilet?”
WHERE ARE THESE PEOPLE COMING FROM?!
So being the ever perfect sales person, “of course, I’ll wait downstairs”.
He comes down, says thank you and leaves, I suspect nothing. It’s time to walk Lola so I go upstairs to run a brush through my hair and put it up.
I was not mentally prepared for what happened next.
There was a puddle. Not a dribble. Not a slight miss down the side. A FUCKING PUDDLE.
What had this man done? Decided he’d not seen the bathroom enough and thought I know what I’ll do, I WILL TURN AROUND AND LOOK WHILE I PEE!
No wonder he scarpered out my house quickly after that! He’d bloody baptised my bathroom floor with piss!
WHO DOES THAT?
Want to know what’s worse, he didn’t even put a god damn offer in!
Again. Don’t buy a house. Or at least prepare yourself for the prospect of someone pissing on your floor.