Covert Operations

Jeff and I were quietly stalking "our house," as I may have taken to calling it, for a few days. This involved driving by whenever we could: after work, on the way home from the grocery store, to and from the gym, you get the idea. Most of this was in the evenings after sunset, the coming winter solstice stealing the light earlier and earlier. To be honest, other than one morning drive by, we had yet to see the house during the day.

Morning Drive-By

(I was that sketchy girl taking pictures out of car windows)

With our low-ball offer on the table, and expecting a counter offer from the sellers, we wanted to check out the house in the daylight before we decided what our counter and/or max price would be for the property. So we mentioned to our realtor we intended to attend the open house, but were concerned about the seller's agent (usually the person staffing the event) knowing our true identity--the couple who just presented an extremely low, below market value, offer-- since our names and signature were on practically every page of the large stack of documents we signed. Mike suggested we use names of clients of his who had bought in the area a few years before and just act like we walked through the neighborhood, saw the sign, and went in. He also points out that we can see how many other people attended the open house when we sign in (Note: Realtors collect names and contact info at open houses in hopes of gaining new clients). Our mission, should we chose to accept it, was to infiltrate the property, seek out information, and see what the place actually looked like in the daylight.

Armed with our secret identities, Jeff (aka "Chris") and I ("Wendy") were able to get to the last half hour of the open house after a rousing game of winter kickball with our team (which we won!). We parked down the street a ways to enjoy the brisk winter sun and get a feel for our potential new neighborhood. At first we thought the open house was canceled, until we got close enough to see the small sandwich board near the front walk. We entered the home; no going back now...

In the light of day, the news was still much the same, the home, though charming, needed a bit of polish. The sellers obviously loved their home, but Jeff and I (I have promised Jeff it will mostly be "I," since Jeff will be writing his brilliant dissertation in his new double office--which I will paint before he moves in) will need to put in some elbow grease and some sweat equity to make the home that way we would want it. Including, but not limited to, a new bathroom, fresh paint, finishing the attic, and other projects. As we poked around, we fended off the advances of the seller's agent, who hoped we could be potential future clients.

She greeted us at the front door, and we introduced ourselves using our new aliases. She asked us to sign in, and while I guiltily wrote down my fake name, made up phone number, and email, I noted we were the only people on the sign in sheet. I filed this tidbit away and began to look around while the agent tried to sell us on things we already knew, the hardwood floors, newer roof, new windows, the natural wood trim, etc. Jeff and I escaped to the upstairs, and I once more investigated the offending bathroom. It was still dim and still pink, with its cracked tile, turquoise tub, burnt out vanity light, and hard water stains--soft scrub anyone? I found Jeff in the double office surveying the view of the back yard the enclosed porch provides. We headed back downstairs. This was where it got interesting.

Nighttime picture of the enclosed porch, with Mike in it,

but you get the idea!

The agent encouraged us to check out the basement, which, of course, we had already seen--twice, but Jeff and I feigned interest and headed downstairs. In the basement, we chatted politely with the realtor, I uncomfortably lied through my teeth to her about how "we are thinking about looking" and how "we haven't decided if it's the right move for us," knowing full well she had in her possession a stack of documents with my real name on them that indicated the opposite. As the agent and I spoke, Jeff played with the light in the basement, trying to close the slide-over light cover for the light in the ceiling by pushing it straight up. Focused on my bogus conversation, I unthinkingly said "Jeff, you slide it toward you to close it."

Now, let me make one thing clear, I am a pretty honest person which makes me a terrible liar. I am an excellent secret keeper. I can hide a surprise with the best of them. I can even tell a white lie here and there, but I cannot tell a big lie to save my life. Jeff will vouch, I would be a terrible spy. Just like that, I had potentially blown our cover. Trying not to call attention to my blunder, I distracted the realtor with another question about the property. She revealed that the trains in the basement belong to the husband and that they were a big consideration for the sellers in their new house (another tidbit to file away).

After my bungle, Jeff quickly finished our visit in the house to check out the back yard, whispering to me, how we were so busted. I pointed out, I only put my fake name on the sign-in, so maybe she thought she misremembered his name. Plus, my truthfulness is one of the things he finds so endearing about me. ;o)

Anxious to end our subterfuge, we returned to our car, with more on our minds than before. It was time to head back to the negotiating table and talk turkey. Take it away Jeff.