Scampering away in shame-- me chirping mockingly in Katie's ear all the while about our blown cover-- we returned to our apartment, sheepish but heartened. Admittedly, we had been shamefully exposed as charlatans. On the other hand, during the two-hour open house, "Chris and Wendy" had been the only people who showed up to kick the figurative tires on the place. The sellers' great hope of attracting a counter-offer (or even a glimmer of competitive interest) to drive up their asking price had been dashed. We knew it, and, with a little competent adding of two-plus-two on the part of their realtor, they would know that we knew it, and we would know that they knew that we knew everything. Got that? Cards on the table, please. Keep up, Samwise.
Tick, tock, Clarice. Tick, tock.
To our surprise, when Mike called us that evening as the deadline on our offer expired, the sellers had not come down nearly as far on their price as circumstances seemed to dictate. Perhaps they were content to wait out the market a little longer; perhaps they didn't know what kind of tough negotiator they were dealing with. After one has seen one's Uncle Walter buy a car, one simply doesn't accept being trifled with, nor falling victim to scare tactics-- which is just the set of moves that the seller's realtor tried to roll out on us.
Mike: "Hey guys. I've just heard from the listing agent, and she isn't happy."
Jeff: "Oh ho. Offended that we attended the open house under false pretenses?"*
Mike: "Actually, no. Somehow the agent missed that connection. She thinks your opening offer was far too low. The sellers have countered, but their realtor is really stressing that they don't want this to be a back and forth thing. She thinks their asking price was already fair."
Oh, we just bet she did. Unfortunately for the listing agent, we were not going to cowed by guilt. The back and forth was supposed to be the great game after all. In a world of fixed prices, how often does one get to haggle and bargain? The price the sellers came back at us with-- returning volley by giving us a 24 hour window to respond-- was a significant drop off, but nowhere near the threshold of what we told ourselves we'd be willing to pay. Katie's parents, recent veterans of the housing markets themselves, had bestowed some very sage advice on us. In between the seller's original asking price and your initial offer, the shrewd buyer demands getting the seller to come down two dollars for every dollar they go up. That's also apparently in the nature of the bear market, not that I knew that then or cared. I was enjoying the repartee. Unlike a certain wife of mine who was growing increasingly queasy about the thought of losing out on that "perfect" breakfast nook, the working fireplace, the leaded glass, et al.
Both Katie and I placed calls to the parents. Numerous times. (Truth fact: we both used up all monthly cell plan minutes in the span of a week). Then, we summoned up another dose of courage and, over the objections of the listing agent's preferences that we quietly acquiesce to her client's wishes, made a counter-counter offer. We went up a little higher, reset the clock, and made it clear to Mike-- and each other-- that this was our final offer, our walking away number.
They had 24 hours. Tick, tock.
* I may not have used the exact expression "Oh ho," but rest assured I said something equally jaunty.
No comments:
Post a Comment