The Essays of Sam Person
The Pre-Closing Visit
By Samuel Person
Three years ago, following my retirement, my wife and I sold our rather
large home on Long Island in order to "scale down." Certainly, we have all
experienced similar steps in our lives, but this one seemed a little unique
in terms of who the buyers were, as well as the happenings in a pre-closing
sit down with the buyers.
Our buyers were scientists, and between the husband (two in physics) and the
wife (one in engineering), they possessed three doctorates, and a scholarly
demeanor consistent with that background. They were extremely intelligent
and focused, and were nice people. Besides, their check cleared.
During the course of the negotiations, I had offered to assemble information
identifying the various providers of services, as well as general
information pertaining to the house. I suggested that as the closing date
approached, they (the buyers) contact me and we would arrange to get
together for them to review it. Two days before the closing, on a Sunday
afternoon, we received a phone call inquiring as to whether or not they
could drop by around 6PM, an unlikely time which interfered with dinner.
But, hey, a buyer is a buyer.
They arrived with their two children at the appointed hour, and we sat down
and proceeded to review the rather complete and thorough (if I may say so
myself, which I am) dossier that I had assembled, and here the real fun in
this transaction began.
We sat down to review the material. When we began, it was obvious that the
husband was making notes, and I said to him, "No need to write anything down
since I have it all summarized for you." He continued to write anyway, and
inquired as to whether I had put the information together just for them, and
when I said that I had, he remarked "That is very nice of you, but I wouldn'
t go to that trouble for anybody."
The first information that I had concerned our landscape gardener, and as I
was reviewing the information, he asked, "What does the gardener do for
you?" I replied that he mowed the grass, trimmed the shrubs, applied
fertilizer, and pesticides, etc., and that in the winter he would plow the
driveway if snow had accumulated.
The buyer proceeded to indicate that he and his family could do the mowing
and trimming, and plow the driveway, and why did I want to use fertilizer
and pesticide anyway since both "get into the ground water." (The water
source for our property was a well, and an inspection of the well is part of
the preliminary undertakings in a sale in our neighborhood.) My response was
"I don't understand your concern since the well and the water have been
tested and everything is fine." My physicist-buyer was not dissuaded by my
answer and persisted that fertilizer and pesticides should not be used. I
gave up, and said that "It is your choice to use them or not, and here is my
information sheet on the gardener - let's move on." I mused to myself that
when the first snow falls, he (and the wife and kids) will get lots of
exercise plowing the rather long driveway.
My next information sheet concerned our plumber, about whom I said, "This
firm has been serving the area for perhaps fifty or more years, and is very
responsive, as well as reasonable." The husband-buyer's response was a
question, i.e., "Why do you need a plumber - do you have plumbing problems?"
Do you sense that I was losing patience (but did not want to lose a buyer)?
No, I answered, "We don't have plumbing problems that are unusual, but I
have no mechanical talent whatsoever, and we have the plumber do things such
as changing washers, and other minor tasks that more skilled homeowners can
do for themselves." He responded that he and his wife were both capable of
repairs, and had no need for a plumber. Fine, I replied, turned the
information sheet over, and moved on.
I should have known what awaited me when my attention shifted to a
discussion of the tree sprayer and what was done. I pointed out that in our
neck of the woods, there have been severe episodes of gypsy moth
infestation, and not knowing better, or in fact that leaves regenerate about
twice a year, I had the trees sprayed. (It should also be noted that our
house was on two acres of wooded land, and hence there were many trees, and
an expensive spraying.)
No sooner were the words out of my mouth when I heard, "Why do you want to
spray the trees since the spray material they use gets into the ground
water?" Not wishing to review this subject again, I stated, "OK, don't spray
the trees. What's more I added, in retrospect I shouldn't have, and would
have saved thousands of dollars in the nineteen years that it had been
done."
After the discussion on tree spraying, we moved on to the information sheet
concerning the exterminator.
Tangentially, I must explain that my wife hates bugs and any form of animal
life to which she is not related. Imagine what occurred then when she saw a
mouse of the field variety one day. From then on, we had an inspection for
mice on a monthly basis, even though we never saw another one. Not expensive
all things considered, and it kept the wife reassured and happy. Besides, I
am not a big game hunter myself.
In any case, I pulled out the information sheet on the exterminator, and
naturally was asked, "Why do you need an exterminator?" Of course, the
question was anticipated, and my answer was ready." "Because," I said, "We
have roaches." The buyer didn't bat an eyelash, and didn't seem the least
bit concerned, but I went on to assure him that I was only kidding, and that
the exterminator's visits were preventative maintenance, and not really
necessary (except to reassure my wife).
In answer to my comment that I was teasing about the roaches, one of the
buyer's children, about ten years of age, who had been sitting (restlessly)
through the briefing, jumped in and announced, rather seriously, "But we
have ant hills in our kitchen." It must have been the case, because the
buyer seemed as unaffected as he was when I told him about the roaches. I
thought it was time to move on from the exterminator at that point, and made
a show of ripping up the relevant sheet, throwing it over my shoulder, and
stated, "You really don't need an exterminator." (The fact is that I
believed there actually were anthills, and they didn't seem to mind.
Obviously, it was not an area of their joint scientific inquiry.)
The last item on my agenda (other than routine cut and dry items like
information on electric use, fuel consumption, etc.) concerned our central
alarm system. I handed the sheet over, and of course, the chorus sang, "Why
do you need a central alarm system?"
I explained that alarm signals, as unlikely as they were, went into a
monitoring station to contact the police, fire department, etc. Further, the
oil burner was monitored by the same system (to alert the monitoring
station to a shutdown and resulting pipe burst in the winter if and when we
were away).
At this point, the wife-buyer joined in, since apparently alarm systems were
her thing. It was her opinion that the alarm system had a horn and that
would be adequate. The horn, I stated, "Had been turned off years ago since
it went off inexplicably during rain storms and on the occasion of strong
winds, and was annoying to the neighbors. Also, the police ignore blaring
horns since they almost always are false alarms." She (the engineer, mind
you) was persistent that she could take care of the alarm system by herself
and didn't care to pay $20 a month to monitor the system, and wanted to know
if I had a manual for the system so that she could reactivate the horn.
"Why," I asked, "Would I have a manual since I wouldn't know what to do with
it anyway. Besides, I have known the alarm people for twenty years, and I am
sure that if they have one, I will get it from them." She would not yield,
and finally concluded, "If you have no manual, you have no alarm system." I
surmised that her reasoning was simple; no alarm system meant a price
reduction.
Once our review of my dossier was completed, we turned to more pleasant
things, such as would we leave the curtains up for her. In fact, she said,
our house was so clean, "We could leave up anything that we didn't want,
since she did not intend to paint the house." Now, while it is true that
my wife was (and is) a world class housekeeper (and decorator as well), I
cannot imagine how people do not at least paint a house that they have
purchased and are about to move into. However, remember the earlier comment
relative to anthills in the kitchen of the house they were vacating?
Other than for some small talk, the visit was unwinding. I noted that the
closing was two days away, and wondered as to when they would like to do the
customary "final walk through."
"What final walk through?" was the husband-buyer's reply. "We have seen
everything that we need to see, and it is all fine. We will meet at the
closing and be done." Their trust evidenced their keen ability to evaluate
human beings (i.e., the sellers).
I was able, as I had expected, to secure a copy of the alarm system manual.
Thus, upon entering our attorney's office for the closing, I sat next to the
wife-buyer, slid the manual across the table, and said "I have a present for
you." She was genuinely relieved of any further anxieties, and the closing
was basically over in ten minutes.
