“You know what? Rip me off once, shame on me. But twice? I’m coming after you, your oversized hand-me-down suit, and your bottle of Old Spice, fucker!” – The Landlord
Ok, so yesterday I wrote a blog post about how I encountered a rude, cock-face letting agent. Well, the saga continues…
Just as a quick recap: my local letting agent wanted £500 to find me tenants. Initially, I was like, “Okay, cool, see what you find me“.
Just for context, I should clarify that using a high-street agent was my backup plan, because I generally always find tenants myself via an online letting agent these days. Paying for high-street services was literally PLAN Z, but a potential fallback nonetheless.
Defining what kind of tenant I want!
When the local agent came to view the property, he asked me a bunch of questions regarding my preferences in terms of what kind of tenant I would like:
- Will you accept tenants with children?
- Will you allow pets?
- Will you allow DSS tenants
- Will you accept smokers?
I said “no” to all but the children.
I have no problems with children as long as they’re potty trained, consequently are less likely to cry all-day-long and irritate the crap out of the neighbours (which is agro I don’t need to be dealing with), or piss, shit, and doodle all over the walls and carpets. I also mentioned that I only want working-professionals.
The agent seemed to note my responses down on his clipboard so there was no excuse of the information just fell out of his head (incredible how often that happens to agents. Poor things!), although I can’t confirm what he actually wrote. At least, he was making all the correct movements to suggest he was taking down notes. He could have been sketching his wildest fantasy for all I know; he held onto his precious clipboard for dear life, so it was certainly too tight to his chest for me to peak over.
Ok, so as I explained in yesterday’s blog post: a few days after the agent had paid visit and noted down my requirements, he contacted me – smugly – to notify me that he found find a suitable applicant. However, the cock-sure wally had taken it upon himself to give her false hope.
He basically told her she can have the property without running the details by me first. I told him that his actions were unacceptable because I hadn’t agreed to anything, so questioned *why* he would give a prospective tenant the green-light without getting approval from the “decision-maker” first.
Yeah, I don’t get it either *shrugs shoulders*
Surely that’s standard practise for even the most snake-oil of agents, right?
To my complete confusion, my agent got his knickers in a twist because he claims to have found me the perfect tenant, and his argument is that I’m being an uppity asshole by not blindly jumping up and down with joy, and falling over myself to sign the contracts!
Lord forgive me for having an ounce of sense!
Apparently the agent and tenant were so far down the process of getting the deal signed, that the poor woman has already arranged for her Guarantor to travel down from the other side of the country to sign the the guarantor contract.
Yes, yes, I’m an asshole for letting this happen!
But, still, NO!
At this point, I had no intention of working with the agent anymore – they proved to be inadequate, to put it nicely.
“Please work with us, even though we’re utterly useless”
In a lousy attempt to regain my trust – but more importantly my business – the agent contacted me last night, offering to lower his rate if I accept the tenant.
Oh, and no, they didn’t even want to cover the issue of *why* I was left with a bad taste in my mouth. They got straight down to business; closing the deal was evidently their only goal.
They offered to reduce their rate to £325. That’s quite a reduction from £500. Times must be hard. Perhaps if they didn’t treat their clients like assholes they wouldn’t *need* to lower their rates. Just a random thought!
While I still had no interest in working with them, curiosity had grabbed me around the throat, so I enquired about that “perfect” tenant they had unearthed. I asked the following questions:
- Who is the tenant?
- How old is the tenant?
- What does the tenant do?
- Does the tenant have kids?
Do you know what the agent responded with? She’s a 25yr old single mother, that’s a part-time fitness instructor, and she’s also in receivership of housing benefits.
I initially thought he was playing a practical joke on me, because that’s literally the complete opposite of “perfect tenant”
Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that there was no joke, and this guy was a genuine twit!
WTF? How the fuck is that the perfect tenant? And what was the point of asking me those initial questions when viewing the property if you ignored pretty much everything I requested?
The agent’s response was infuriating:
Her references are great, and she’s a lovely girl.
The Housing Benefit aspect is just a minor detail.
I felt like saying:
You fuck her then!
Of course, the tenant might be perfectly legit, and could even be great.
However, that’s definitely not the point.
The point is, she didn’t fit the description for what I was looking for at all. And the agent knew it. It’s like going into a restaurant and ordering a salad, but being served a steak instead.
Again, the agent got all shirty with me, and genuinely thought he was the victim, because:
- They already tolerated my “attitude” after I refused to blindly accept their ‘perfect tenant’ (thank God I didn’t)
- They had reduced their fee, and I was still being an ungrateful little bastard
Paying my local agent for nothing is clearly their business strategy!
The reality is, the council have a backlog of part-time employed, single mothers in receivership of housing benefit that are in deperate need of private accommodation. So if that’s the kind of tenant I was after, I could have gone to my local council and they would be able to toss me one or a million of them my way.
So why the hell would I pay £350 (or any money at all)?
What a fucking joke. These guys are not only scumbags, but I also suspect they’re clinically insane.
Anyways, later today I have to face these ass-weasels because I need to collect the front door keys. That should be fun.
I have no doubt, they’ll probably be sitting there scratching their asses, wondering why the fuck I passed them up on such a great deal. Dumbasses.
Worst service ever.