Each time I buy or sell a house, I have to deal with real estate agents. There is no real way to avoid this. When I’m selling, I have to deal with one to sell my place and many more who show my home to prospective buyers. When I’m buying a house, I again have one who shows me the houses I’m interested in buying plus all of the ones who have the houses listed that I want to buy. When I’m selling my house, I have to select a real estate agent. Many questions come to mind. Do I choose the one I dealt with last? The one who helped me buy this place? Do I find someone new? Do I search for a real estate agent who is cheaper, that is, who doesn’t charge the full 7 percent commission? Do I throw an arrow at a picture and choose the unlucky sap that I pierce? Choosing a real estate agent is as bothersome as figuring out how to get a Hobart Handler 190 MIG welder started up.
This has been a dilemma and it’s hard! I really have a problem with paying such a high commission. And when you’re the seller is when you pay the commission. The last time I sold a house, I chose a real estate agent I’d used before because he charged less than the 7 percent. Granted the 7 percent commission is split between the seller’s (my) real estate agent and the buyer’s real estate agent but still. I think a $7,000 fee when selling a $100,000 house is a boatload of money! I get angry when I think about this money that I lose so I simply choose to not think about it. It gets me nowhere after all. So I just pull a Scarlett O’Hara and think to myself “I’ll think about that tomorrow.” I could get my real estate license and save (or keep) my portion of the commission. I could have saved thousands of dollars over the years. Could-a should-a would-a.
When I’m buying a home, I have to choose someone who I want to sit in a car with and drive around looking at places that I frankly, will probably make fun of to a degree. “Did you see all of that crap stacked in the bathtub? Do they ever bathe?” Or “I really liked that condo but why would anyone paint a kitchen orange?” To which the real estate agent, defender of all decorating mishaps, might say “Oh, paint is cheap. You can always paint it!” Seriously, having to watch my tongue while viewing houses in the presence of a real estate agent, especially a prissy woman or a man who never says a negative thing, just adds to the stress of buying. And house hunting is stressful. For one thing, it’s a huge purchase. I take longer to pick out a good pair of shoes.
I try them on, walk around the store, look at my feet from all angels in those little tilted mirrors, feel my big toe, generally makes sure I can live with these things that cost, oh, around fifty to one-hundred dollars. But with a house, I walk in, make mental judgments about the throw pillows on the couch, wonder if they have a nice liquor assortment, open the medicine cabinets (to see how much room there is, not to snoop! Never to snoop!), and basically kick the tires like it’s a Big Wheels I’m buying. Why can’t we spend the night like on that one HGTV show? Take a shower and see if we really like that feature? Sit at the table in the morning and listen to the neighborhood waking up? But I have an idea that the real estate agents I’ve dealt with in the past would tell me I’m welcome to drive over in the morning to check all this out. “Just sit in your car. That’s a good idea. You’ll see what it’s like. Now, would you like to make an offer on this place we just spend ten minutes in?”