Misery Loves Real Estate

Every Wednesday night I tune into Million Dollar listing on Bravo . It’s fun, mindless entertainment. However, because I’m in the business, occasionally I find myself feeling stressed out for the three key players (OK. Louise not so much but for the other two).

For example, on last Wednesday’s episode, Fredrik wed his longtime beau on a private island. While this should have been a blissful time for them, Frederik succumbed to the pressures of trying to sell out his exclusive building, 250 Bowery for record prices. When his fiancee demanded that he put his phone away for the long weekend, I actually started to feel nervous and agitated (which I know is ridiculous) but when you are a real estate agent your smart phone is your first love.   It’s the gadget that’s essential to our livelihood.   So, needless to say,  when the fiancee flung it into the ocean, I actually felt my blood pressure rise. I might’ve even started to sweat.  In the end they celebrated a beautiful wedding, but wouldn’t it have been nice, just for that one weekend, for Frederik not to be the self proclaimed listing machine that he is and just thoroughly enjoy life uninterrupted? Alas, as Gordon Gekko famously once said:  ”Money is a bitch that never sleeps”!

Back in New York, Ryan was dealing with his own set of problems when he agreed to co-list a high-end property for sale with an inexperienced agent.  While he invested his time, money and resources to market the property, his co-agent spent her time fixing her hair and doing her make-up. It all came to a screeching halt when Ryan brought a buyer to the apartment and discovered it full of beds, towels and bathrobe-clad mannequins. Unbeknownst to him, his batty partner had leased it out to a home furnishings company which ultimately led to his firing himself from the listing.

Every now and then we find ourselves in situations like these where we finally have to admit that it’s just not worth it. Whether it’s the pressure of selling out a building, dealing with a difficult client or agent,  when your health and quality of life are suffering then it’s probably time to walk away.

I’ve had a few experiences like these and that episode got me thinking of one in particular…

A few years ago an agent friend from another firm asked me to help her co-list a two bedroom condo that she was having difficulty selling. The apartment was purchased by a wealthy real-estate mogul for his wife (we’ll call Shelly) as a hobby. See, Shelly fancied herself an interior decorator and as soon as she got the keys, wasted no time garnishing it with the gaudiest wall paper, paint, furniture and “fine art”. From ceiling to floor, not one inch of the poor apartment was spared from her fatuous touch. (Think giving a blank sheet of paper and a box of crayons to a 3 year old. The outcome would probably be more attractive then the apartment was). Once Shelly had completed her “master-piece” it was time to sell and move on to her next project. The catch was that she wanted to sell the apartment fully furnished with all the trimmings for 700k over what the price should be!

Never one to back away from a challenge, I agreed.

I spent hundreds of dollars having the apartment re-photographed, on new marketing material and countless hours hosting open houses. When it was clear we weren’t getting any takers, I recommended selling some of the more valuable art and furniture separately and lowering the asking price. Shelly agreed that this was a smart idea so I contacted a gentleman we’ll call Steve from a prominent Soho gallery specializing in the works of Paul Evans, the supposed creator of the precious art.  Steve was eager to see the treasure trove of this artist’s items displayed in the apartment so we made an appointment to meet there the next day. You can imagine his and our disappointment when he gently informed us that none of the pieces were real, rather very good (and probably quite expensive) replicas’ of Paul Evan’s work.

When we delicately broke this news to Shelly she was incensed. Not that she had been ripped off (or caught telling people she owned genuine Paul Evans pieces) but at us and the art dealer. Clearly he must be mistaken! In the end, she refused to drop the price and I politely removed myself from the listing.

From WikiHow: Carpet beetles are persistent pests that can cause severe damage to your carpets, clothing, and other fabrics. Getting rid of carpet beetles takes patience and persistence, but the job can usually be done without calling professional exterminators.

I’ve done hundreds of rentals and this one is still fresh in my mind even though it happened several years ago.  It’s a great example of how very successful people can have very little common sense.

A few years back a young lady was referred to me whom we’ll call Linda. Linda was a young professional in her early twenties, lived with 2 roommates in Midtown West and was looking to move out on her own into a studio apartment in Chelsea, one of Manhattan’s pricier neighborhoods.

Linda’s well-healed parents would be her guarantors since she did not meet the annual income requirement. And so on a nice summer day, Linda, her parents and I set off to visit studio apartments in some of Chelsea’s most luxurious rental buildings.

That same afternoon she fell in love and applied for a studio on the 12th floor of a very swanky building off 26th street. The 400 sq ft apartment had been vacant for weeks, was newly renovated and clean as a whistle.  I should also add that there was no carpeting anywhere in the unit.

Three days later Linda was approved (as I knew she would be) and was ecstatic. Everyone was happy – she got her dream apartment, her parents knew she’d be living in a secure building and I would earn a one month commission paid by the landlord. All in a days work right?

Wrong. Two Friday’s later, on moving day, as Linda was unpacking her boxes she made a shocking discovery. On the OUTSIDE of her windowsill sat a tiny black bug. This bug, she determined, was the infamous, pesky Attagenus unicolor, otherwise known as ‘Carpet beetle’.

Consequently, all hell broke loose.

At approximately 5pm that afternoon my office phone rang. I answered to a static connection and a blustery male voice on the other end shouting that he was in London, his daughter was moving in to her apartment and had an infestation.

Once I was able to calm him down, I established that this was Linda’s father, on a business trip –  calling me from London(!!) because they had an emergency situation on their hands and his daughter would not – under any circumstances – move in to her new apartment until it was exterminated thoroughly and deemed livable by beetle sniffing dogs.

When he finally admitted that he had not seen the louse in person , I decided it would be best to conference-call Linda and her mother who were in possession of the pest.

The four of us then spoke at length. Linda obligingly texted me a grainy picture of the bug which, after seeing it and googling the words: ‘carpet beetle’, I suggested could be any number of completely harmless vermin. Not to mention, it was on the OUTSIDE of her windowsill. By the end of the conversation they all reluctantly admitted there was a small possibility that it might not be a carpet beetle but they needed assurance nonetheless.

Now, the last time I checked, I’m not an exterminator nor did I ever give them that impression so the only thing I could do was try to get one in there that evening, which proved to be impossible. The landlord, who had the building treated regularly, wanted nothing to do with this ridiculous situation and literally laughed out loud when Linda requested that her rent be pro-rated for the time she couldn’t reside in the apartment. After several phone calls that evening I reached a very pleasant entomologist who studied the grainy snapshot. He positively I.D’d the critter as a common, garden variety beetle that posed no threat to Linda or her apartment.  Although I conference-called Linda and her mother in with the entomologist who gave them the good news, they still needed more proof which they received the following Monday from an exterminator that they hired.

Did they apologize for grossly overreacting? Surprisingly yes, which I appreciated immensely. Most people would’ve felt too stupid to admit they blundered. I of course laughed it off, told them it was no big deal and was just glad that Linda could now relax and enjoy her fabulous new apartment. But here’s the thing- it was a big deal. As silly and ludicrous as it was, they were coming to me. If they couldn’t be satisfied I would be the one they blamed and my reputation was on the line. That whole weekend I angst-ed over it. Luckily it all worked out.