Landlord Products / Services
Another one bites the dust.
I’ve succumbed. I’m officially tossing my personal story onto the ‘Estate Agent Nightmare‘ scrap heap (that thing must be in orbit), even though I’m not entirely sure it’s warranted.
You know when a situation drags on for so long – and becomes so absurd – that you start wondering if you’re the delusional twit, in dire need of psychiatric treatment? I think I’ve reached that point.
At first, I was sure I was dealing with a bottom-of-the-barrel, tin-pot, donkey-sanctuary of a high-street estate agent. But they’ve been maintaining the same piss-poor level of service since day one without flinching – like it’s business as usual – and while it’s drained the life out of me and twisted me into a pretzel, I’m starting to question my own judgment. I mean, is it me? Have I just experienced regular service by today’s standards, and are my expectations out of whack?
Christ, I’m a mess. I’m seeing four of everything. Please put me out of my misery by helping me diagnosing the situation. I’ll swear I’ll accept the Jury’s decision. Unless I hate it.
Oh, and believe me, I so get it – to the outside world, the irony of a landlord complaining about estate agents is hilarious. After all, which of us is the bigger skid-mark on society, and who’s more deserving of a one-way ticket to the deepest pit of hell. Am I right?
Be that as it may, I’m riled up to the tits, so I’m going to pretend I’m speaking from some lofty place of moral authority.
I’ve been housing shopping!
Yup, I have!
Not for a buy-to-let. You must be joking. You couldn’t pay me to buy one of those. The private rental sector is a chlamydia-encrusted turd at the bottom of the ocean. It’s over.
No, just kidding.
Despite all relentless and nauseating negative press, I’m still all-in, and more convinced than ever that property should be the cornerstone of my investment strategy. And everyone else’s. But that’s a story for another day.
This isn’t about a BTL venture. I’ve actually been actively looking for a new residential home. This playboy needs a new love den. But that means I’ve had to get back on the horse and start tangoing with estate agents again. It’s been a while… but apparently, not long enough.
For a brief moment, I forgot what a roulette wheel it is dealing with agents, and I think I just took my worst spin yet. The contrast in quality is truly a sight to behold. I know the good agents catch a rough deal, and as landlords, we can obviously empathise. But holy moly, the stereotypes aren’t half accurate.
Is this normal by today’s standard, or is my estate agent a dud?
I found an absolutely wonderful property. It ticked many of my boxes, even the obscure ones I thought I’d have to compromise on.
The property is currently vacant, but it was once home to an elderly couple. Bless them, they had clearly been stewing away in the place for the better part of a century without making a single home improvement. To put it nicely, everything was “original”, and the property even features that authentic musky cabbage-and-piss stench you’d expect to encounter roaming the corridors of a retirement home.
The entire property needs airing, gutting, and a full refurbishment, and that was truly part of the appeal. It meant I’d have a blank canvas to work with.
Whether I’ll actually end up owning the property is still an unknown, but the journey I’ve been on so far feels blog-post-worthy. So, here we are.
Timeline: Trying to Buy a Home from a Mute Estate Agent
Scheduling viewing
Miraculously, this was somehow easier said than done. From the outset, the estate agent managing the property raised red flags by making a pig’s ear out of even the simplest task.
I called to arrange an initial viewing, and the response I received was, “We haven’t set up our viewing calendar for the property yet, we’ll immediately get back in touch when we do”
Bro, just load up Google Calendars’ and let’s get this show on the road!
The property had been on the market with the agent for a couple of months, at least, so the obstacle was unexpected.
Three or four days pass, and I’m still sucking my thumb, waiting.
I’m done waiting, so I decide to go rogue. I break the cardinal rule and double-text. Well, double-call, in my case.
I’m greeted by the answer machine. Great. Nonetheless, a chirpy “Hey, remember me?” message is left.
Two days pass, still nothing.
I call again, answer machine.
So, like, guys, how are you even running a biz like this? This is a bit shit.
AFTER A TOTAL OF SEVEN DAYS WAITNG, Agent #1 gets in touch, doesn’t apologise for the delay, and was able to confirm an appointment slot. I love it when a plan comes together.
Shortly after I receive a confirmation email. Only the appointment time in the email didn’t match the time I was given over the phone by Agent #1.
Cool, these things happen. The doofus probably fat-fingered it while selecting the time slot on his booking system.
I call back immediately, and Agent #1 confirms that the time I was given over the phone is correct and to ignore the time in the email.
We got there in the end, but clearly not a great start. I foolishly believe things can only get better.
Viewing #1
LOVED IT! I WANT IT! I know exactly where I’m going to display my blogging awards.
Agent #1 didn’t attend the viewing, so I was introduced to Agent #2. This guy was text-book – he’s everything you would expect an estate agent to look, sound and smell like (make of that what you will). He seemed nice enough.
During the viewing, I asked a few questions about the property that he didn’t know the answers to. He made all the right gestures to show me he was jotting them down on his phone. He assured me he’d find out and get back to me. Hold that thought.
Post viewing #1
A couple of days pass, and there is no follow-up from the agent – no feedback request, no answers to my questions. I’m thinking that’s a little weird.
I’m genuinely curious, is it not standard protocol for agents to follow-up for feedback after viewings?
I aired my confusion (and disappointment) on Twitter, and a few disgruntled agents – along with someone deciding to play Devil’s avocado – took issue with my gripe. Apparently, I should stop wasting time being a keyboard warrior on Twitter, get off my fat, hairy arse, and be more proactive if I like the property so damn much, because agents already waste too much time dealing with tyre-kickers.
FINE! I will!
FUDGE YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE PEARLS OF WISDOM!
There I was, thinking it was quite literally their job to pursue and work leads, trying to actively sell shit. I recently took a car for a test drive at my local dealership and, like clockwork, received a friendly follow-up call the very next day, just to see if I had any questions or thoughts about the experience. Just good old-fashioned sales and customer service – respectful, straightforward, and not the least bit pushy. Maybe I’ve been spoiled.
To be fair, in my defence, I never intended to remain idle – I was always planning to follow up with the agent, because I was genuinely interested in the property. I just found it odd that they didn’t reach out first, especially since I’d shown interest during the viewing… and, you know, because it’s their bloody job to actively facilitate a sale. But hey, Tomato, tomahto.
Scheduling viewing #2
No, no one had gotten in touch with me yet after the first viewing – four days had passed.
So, I did exactly as advised – got off my rotund bottom and made the call.
Agent #1 answers, and we schedule a second viewing for the following Thursday. It’s on!
But this time, I notify him that I’m going to be taking a builder along for the ride, to get an estimate on how much the necessary renovations would set me back. Ultimately, the purchase could be unfeasible if the numbers don’t stack.
Viewing #2
This was conducted by Agent #2 again – it was nice to see a familiar face. He somehow embodied the textbook estate agent stereotype even more than he did last time. Incredible.
He turned up late (which was fine, it happens), opened the front door, and quickly scurried into the living room, where he comfortably sank into a sofa like it was the end of a long day. It was 9am. Meanwhile, the builder and I started poking around the premises, discussing renovation ideas. Man stuff.
I never gave the builder any script or cue cards, but for some reason, he took it upon himself to get into a character – a completely ridiculous one. He started making bold and edgy statements just loud enough for the agent to hear [from the sofa he did not budge from]. It caught me off guard, to be honest.
“Ooof, yeah, that’s going to be a big job to fix.”
“Oh boy, I don’t think this load bearer in the loft meets current regulations!”
I think he was trying to help me out, but I was desperately wanting him to pipe down – I couldn’t shake the fear that the agent would think I’d put the goofball up to this low-budget, village hall pantomime. Embarrassing. Very sweet of him, though.
Oh, and Agent #2 did get back to me about my questions. That was appreciated, but I suspect the second viewing jogged his memory that I’d given him homework, which was now overdue. But better late than never, I ‘spose.
Post viewing #2
It took three days for my builder to get back to me with a ballpark figure for the work, and in that time, once again, no follow-up call from the agent.
Come on, man. This was my second viewing, and I brought a builder with me this time. Do you need me to show up with a briefcase full of cash before you ask me anything?
I don’t actually need a follow-up call. It just felt weird and concerning that I’m the one making all the effort in this situation.
You’ve shown no signs of wanting an offer, but here’s mine anyways!
The math ends up mathing, and now I’m itching to make an offer.
Trying not to cut off my nose to spite my face (again), I call upon the same little nugget of wisdom that’s kept me going – and make the call. Honestly, if I didn’t cook, no one would be eating around here.
An unfamiliar Agent #3 picks up this time. It was obvious I was dealing with a pup – voice as silky as chocolate mousse – probably the boss’s son, helping out for some pocket money so he could get shit-faced on a park bench over the weekend. I ask for Agent #1 or #2, but neither are available.
Okay, you’re up – let’s see what you’re made of, kid.
I submitted my offer to Agent-Pup and enquired whether it needed to be put in writing. He said it wasn’t necessary and that the vendor would be notified, with a response to follow shortly.
10% below the asking price was my offer.
I felt it was fair, considering how much work and expense would be needed to make the place liveable. The reality is, anyone who buys the property will need time and a decent cash pot to complete the essential renovations. I also discovered that the property has been on the market for over a year, but with a different agent originally.
Offer lost in the wind
I made my offer on a Thursday, so I wasn’t expecting to hear anything until after the weekend. But then Wednesday came and passed, still tumbleweeds.
For Fuck’s sake!
What was I suppose to do again? Oh yeah, I remember. Get off arse.
Agent #1 picks up this time. I explain that I spoke to Agent #3 last week, made an offer on the property, and am still waiting for a response.
You can hear the confusion in his wavering voice, “Err, oh, erer, that’s strange. There’s nothing in our system about an offer. Err… What was it?”
*slaps forehead*
Turns out Agent-Pup is made out of hot air and zero ideas – he somehow managed to screw up the basic task of registering an offer. He needs to stop manning the phones and re-enter a training program, pronto. Mishaps like this could be catastrophic.
Offer officially registered
Almost immediately after getting off the phone from Agent #1, I receive an offer confirmation email.
I suspect this was an automated response triggered once an offer is made and entered into their system, which is exactly what should’ve happened the first time around.
Hey, what happened to my offer?
A week passes, and I’m dealing with more of absolutely nothing.
That’s clearly not a great sign. Was my fair offer taken as a low-ball insult, or am I just getting another taste of how this non-verbal estate agent conducts business?
I maintain my role: desperate, and just the right amount of pathetic. I call. Agent #1 picks up.
“They refused the offer, and found a cash-buyer in the mean time – they offered closer to the asking price. Do you want to increase your offer?”
NO, I SHITTING DO NOT!
I think I may have briefly flatlined. My inner voice was screaming, “Why on God’s green earth didn’t you contact me to notify me that my offer was rejected? Are you a fucking moron? [rhetorical question]”
*deep breaths*
I didn’t increase my offer, but I politely asked to be kept informed if anything changes, and also raised the issue of the lacklustre communication so far. It was acknowledged, and I received an apology.
Fine, take more money! You’ve already taken my soul.
Another week or so passes without a word, so I can only assume the cash buyer is still in the game. Not ideal, because I’m still interested. I decide to fold like a wet biscuit and slightly bump up my offer (by approx. 3% of my initial offer) – a final Hail Mary, hoping to snipe the accepted one. I hadn’t planned on getting into a bidding war, and I was adamant about avoiding any games by going straight in with my best offer. Looks like I’ve deviated and moved onto Plan B.
Agent #2 picks up this time, and literally before I can get a word in edgeways, he enthusiastically says, “Hey, sorry I haven’t been around, but Agent #1 has notified me that you made an offer on the property. The vendor is still thinking about it, so I’ll let you know.”
Err… okay?! What the hell just happened? I have no idea, but I go with it.
I didn’t even get to increase my offer (LOL), and now I’m left wondering if the elusive cash buyer ever even existed, or if there’s been some kind of mix-up. Either way, I’m feeling re-energised with a glimmer of hope.
Another lonely week passes
Non-verbal estate agent continues to non-verbal.
Hello? Anyone home?
Now officially at peak pathetic, I dial like I’m chasing the love of my life – who couldn’t care less.
Agent #1 picks up, and I remind him I’m alive and well (he has no clue I’m putting on a façade and dying inside because of him).
“Oh, hey there, bear with me, I’ll find out and let you know what’s happening with your offer.”
Yeah, will you really, though?
“So that’s what a phone is used for!”
Other than the soundtrack of my pitiful tears rolling down my mug, it was radio silence for another few days or so. By this point, I’d pretty much given up hope, and had lost the will to keep calling like a crazed-ex sending suicidal messages, only to get nothing in return. I’d made peace with the idea that, for whatever reason, some greater power just doesn’t want me to own this property.
Then, out of nowhere, Agent #1 calls. It’s a bloody Christmas miracle – in May.
There you go, Agent #1, you finally managed to remove the bondage ball-gag out of your pie-hole and figure out what that ringing device on your desk does. Brilliant.
“Sorry, the vendor has accepted a higher offer. Do you want to increase your offer?”
(I hold back my frustration, and refrain from pointing out that their business practise seems inspired by a clown show, and even that felt like an insult to clowns.)
“How much was accepted?”
“Closer to the asking price!”
“How much closer?”
I attempt to elegantly pry it out of him, but he’s determined to keep his cards close to his chest. Fair enough.
It was hard to tell if I was being played like a fiddle, but either way, I did increase my offer, to the final Hail Mary figure I’d originally planned before being told my first offer was still under consideration. I can’t help but wonder if that was all a mix-up with someone else’s offer, and mine was never actually in the running. If that’s the case, would things have turned out differently if I’d managed to submit my second offer as I’d originally intended, before being stopped in my tracks? This will haunt me.
“Hey bro, just a reminder: I’m in a strong position – I’m ready to move immediately, chain-free, finances sorted (and if you continue with this tinpot service, I’m going to write a really mean blog post about you!)”
“Okay, I’ll remind the vendor and let you know the outcome.”
(I doubt you will, but thank you.)
So that’s where we are, 60’ish days later.
Isn’t that batshit crazy? I’m genuinely baffled.
To be clear, I don’t think there has been one isolated incident that was jaw-droppingly unbearable, it was more the relentless accumulation of the agent’s non-existent communication and effort that finally sent me doolally. My timeline doesn’t even include all the calls that went straight to answer machine, and the multiple voice messages that went ignored. Death by a thousand cuts.
Sure, I get that there’s probably some juggling involved with multiple buyers, waiting to see who pulls through with the highest offer, massaging higher bids out of us, and even insider shenanigans, but even so, this just feels like mindless monkeying around. Not to mention rude.
One of the biggest issues, I think, is that I was dealing with a rotating cast of agents, and no one seemed to be communicating with each other or reading from the same script. I’m genuinely convinced they confused me – and my offer – with another buyer, at least once. Possibly twice.
Shit-show.
In my mind, the real victims here is the seller that unknowingly entrusted these donkeys with the sale of their property. It’s not just that they seem disinterested, it’s like they’re actively working against their client’s best interests. Why aren’t they even following-up on lukewarm leads?
It really wouldn’t surprise me if, after all the faffing around, the vendor ends up losing more money than if they’d just accepted my original low-ball offer. We could have had this deal wrapped up in a bow ages ago. A tale as old as time.
Needless to say, one thing is absolutely certain: I would never use this agent to sell my house.
This experience has been a stark reminder that not all estate agents are cut from the same rag.
As a seller, if you go down the high-street estate agent route, choosing wisely can be the difference between a quick sale or a drawn-out one, and a profitable outcome or a disappointing one.
I consider feedback after every viewing essential, and I’d question any agent who fails to provide it.
Even good agents make misjudgements and mistakes, but because they’re proactive, they’re able to pivot and adapt quickly (whether the vendor is willing is another question altogether).
On a side note, this whole debacle reminds me of why there’s a growing market and strong case for online estate agents, where sellers hold the reins, and benefit from a service at a fraction of the traditional cost.
Up to this point, I feel like I’ve been indulging some twisted fantasy – biting my lip, playing along like a submissive man-baby. I know that if I want the property, it’s probably in my best interest to keep smiling and dancing to the agent’s off-beat rhythm. As they say, keep your friends close, and your donkeys closer. But boy is it painful, FFUUU()*&!)(*&!!
*deep breaths*
Will I get the property? No idea.
Seriously, am I just that walk-in customer kicking off because they got seated too close to the pisser on a busy night, or am I genuinely dealing with a dud estate agent?
Landlord out xo
Disclaimer: I'm just a landlord blogger; I'm 100% not qualified to give legal or financial advice. I'm a doofus. Any information I share is my unqualified opinion, and should never be construed as professional legal or financial advice. You should definitely get advice from a qualified professional for any legal or financial matters. For more information, please read my full disclaimer.
Interesting tale, all to familiar for the dog end of a group of 'parasites'... oh, hang on - isn't that term exclusively intended for us...