Back in about August last year, we decided to put our house on the market. We weren't living in it. We did have a really good run of good tenants, but the financial strain was becoming a bit of a stress for The Man and I. As well as that, the property manager that was looking after it for us was a bit of a pratt and was making some silly decisions and so,we decided to cut our losses (literally) and move on.
The first agent we listed it with must have thought he was Donald Trump, because the guy had serious dollar signs in his eyes. Or not. He wanted to sell top of the market houses only. And let's face it, our little shoe box was never going to make him a millionaire on commission, so basically he listed it and left it. No open homes, barely any pushing of the house on the market, nothing. Nudder, Nil. Zip! So, after our first painful three months with him was over, we pulled the pin. I am not sure Mr Trump wannabe was very happy about that, because he took his pretty yellow For Sale signs off our house and we honestly never heard from the man again. That is what we get for listening to the property manager pratt who recommended the Donald wannabe in the first place.
So, we moved to another agent in another company. This one also came recommended, so to say we were just a teensy bit cautious was an understatement. However, this woman was at the complete opposite end of the scale. She was a machine! Weekly emails, phone calls AND texts. As well as multiple open homes. To be honest, I think The Man thought she was a bit of a pain to start with. But... she did what she was hired to do, she sold the house, for pretty much what we wanted for it. Awesome!
Settlement seemed to take forever to arrive, and somewhere in there, the wonderful but obviously a few brain cells short, selling agent, gave the new owner our home phone number. Well to quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman... 'big mistake lady, huge!' The new owner proved to be a bigger pain in the ass than the agent did in the early days. He was calling every.single.night one week, until The Man got quite cranky and pretty much told him to naff off (ok, so he didn't, but we did have some help from the lawyer to get the new owner of our backs!) and the calls stopped. Thank goodness.
Settlement day finally arrived. Yesterday. Woot! The lawyer rang The Man in the afternoon and said that it had all gone through, and that she had transferred $28,000 into our cheque account. What the heck!?!? We were only meant to come out with $12,000 and that was before commission was taken out. So, we figured she had read it wrong and meant $2,800. That was more what we were expecting. (Yes, we know, we know, we were never going to get rich from the sale of our house, that is for sure!)
Well, because I may have been a little excited about finally selling, last night went online and I thought I would check the bank account to see if the money had cleared. Bugger me, I looked at the screen, my jaw hit the floor with a resounding thud, my heart raced so fast that I could barely get the 'holy crap!' to The Man out.
There it was.... TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS sitting in our cheque account. Uh oh. This is not good. This is NOT our money. I was very temped to just sign up for my 4x4 there and then and let the lawyer worry about the money, but does this face lie... hell no, not to that extent anyway! So this morning, The Man is eagerly awaiting the lawyers to open, so we can get the whole transaction reversed. I did take a screen print of the balance because I can't think of a time ever in my life where I have had, or will have again, a bank balance of $28,000, but it is quite stressful having that much of someone elses money in your account!
If only it was true, and we could keep it, oh the things I could do with that money!
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