Selling the Farm II
The original idea put out by John Locke so many years ago was that all humans had the right to life, liberty and property. Jefferson would later put it down as “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Odd how parcels of land and shelters of wood got equated to happiness.
Where as it may be true for realtors and lawyers… property does not necessarily equate to happiness when others are concerned. I mean, who’s making the commissions here?
Once the house is “sold” or “bought” (depending on who’s faction you’re loyal to at the time) something call the “closing” is supposed to take place – that blessed event where both sides meet, sign things and be done with the whole ordeal. The sooner this happens the better as anything that hinges on the closing can go on (say the seller’s buying a replacement dwelling with the lucre made off the old homestead).
We’ve been waiting a good (and the term’s used loosely) 3-5 weeks now to find out when our closing is.
See, before the official closing, the lawyers and the banks from both sides first gather for a good ol’ circle jerk and set the date for the closing – usually for some time some ways away. They then all go on vacation until a few days before said date. Oh! and they don’t tell anyone anything.
So, this then leaves the seller the only option of sailing blindly forward.
We have a moving crew reserved for lord knows when; 4 weeks notices handed in, leaving a single paycheck left; and a deposit on a dream house in a dream community about to be lost because we can’t tell the nice community leaders what the hell is going on.
Now the story told to us so far is thus: the bank is dragging its feet. Apparently, the guy who’s handling the buyer’s affairs is on vacation until 3 days after the first “projected” closing date. Projected, used in this sense, is to seller as cheese is to cartoon spring loaded mallet.
Somehow it’s doubtful that one man can cripple a bank from doing what banks do best – give out high interest mortgages to investors for ungodly profit. If that be the case, it says a lot about that bank. If that be the case, hand me my blowgun, I’ve got a bank to rob!
My hypothesis is this – it’s the local players’ fault! Our realtor knows our lawyer, which at first seems like a nice lob in our court. But the buyer is from the boonies of Long Island, and had to have gotten a reference to his lawyer here from somebody. Our realtor knows his lawyer well too, it seems. Put an addition sign in the mix and you’ve got one lumpy sum.
So now we’ve got a nice group of chums working on this case… who all must know each other’s schedules and such and probably think nothing of delaying the deal since they’re all friends and can do it when ever they have free time. Make a picnic of it I guess. Forget that people’s lives hand in the balance! There’s a slew of other reason for delay, but they all equate back to nepotism and so many dropped balls you can open a Chucky Cheese play area!
However, there’s not much you can do about it. If you make a fuss things will get worse. Lawyers, like most professionals, have the uncanny ability to but human life in stasis for months at a time.
It makes me sick!
Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote in A Princess of Mars, “In one respect at least the Martians are a happy people; they have no lawyers.” I’m wondering if I can sue these people; they’re clearly impeding on my inalienable right to the pursuit of happiness and property!
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