Today I decided to plough ahead with objective 1 and walk that wobbly plank to into the world of estate agents. I have dabbled in this arena a few times before, having bought and sold 3 times and I know all about the salesmans patter that wafts out between their lips. When I lived in Manchester I viewed a property with my ex and the estate agent (who I would estimate was pushing 16) walked into the living room and sat on the sellers sofa, stuck his feet up and switched the telly on. All this while we walked round. I do not lie. Needless to say we did not use that agent when we sold our house…
Anyway before Christmas I had taken the time to do some research (surprising but true) to identify who should market my house. I will admit that much of this research consisted of trawling right move and deciding if I liked the pictures which the agent had taken and used but you know this IS important. So armed with this information I entered the breech. Estate agent clearly thought ah blonde female, I will be able to get a good deal with her but oh no. Oh no oh no. I may have looked like Barbie ala perm (has my hair done today – she tonged it people don’t worry I do not have a Very Duckworth curl) but underneath that disguise I had knew my numbers. So I managed to negotiate a good rate. I now need to spend the rest of the weekend house doctoring my home ready for marketing shots. That’s the slightly more tricky part given the amount of shoe boxes perched in my spare room currently…
Whilst I am on the subject of estate agents I have other news. Last year I was considering moving to a village closer to London, but not in London, easier for the commute but still in the land of farmers, cows etc I viewed several houses there over a few weekends and registered with the local agents. Just before Xmas I received an email from one agent asking me how a viewing went. At the end of this email it said – what did you think of xxxx (I am protecting the names of the innocent here) who showed you round? He likes you and would really like to take you out sometime. On receipt of this email I was a bit taken aback on 2 counts. 1. I didn’t realise playground antics continued into your 30’s and 2. I took my mum on said viewing (she, like me, is nosey and likes to have a little snoop ;)). I would have thought the presence of a parent may act as a detterent , clearly not. Anyway slightly perturbed by the whole getting his mate to ask me out matter, I politely declined the offer via email – you know I am flattered but no thanks etc - thinking that would be the end of it.
This week I receive an email direct from the agent who showed mother and I around property X (it wasn’t even that nice a house). This time he asked me out directly. I mean I have to give him some credit for persistence and not being put off by the original knock back. I discussed said email with work colleagues who suggested that in the spirit of objective 4 I just go for a drink with him, I mean a drink doesn’t hurt and it might be fun. Perhaps somewhat naively I agree and email him back saying ok for a drink but not for a week or two (remembering objective 3 ;)). Later on en route home my iphone pings and I see he has emailed me back. He’s clearly pleased with my response and asks if he can contact me not using this email (it is his work email so fair enough). Then comes the clanger- he asks if I am on facebook and could he add me we can chat. Call me old fashioned but would it hurt to want to speak to me and to be honest, no one and I mean noone is allowed to see my drunken facebook pictures unless I class them as an actual friend (or at least someone who I am not considering dating). Anyway enough said. I am going to email him my number and see if he has the guts to call. I mean he is an estate agent after all….
I will keep you all posted…
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