Maybe it’s me.
Maybe I just don’t fundamentally understand estate agents.
Maybe I have missed that little rule book which every property seller, bar me, should have read before they instruct an estate agent. I think it’s a little rule book that goes something like: we will list your property, do naff all about selling it, until the day you have enough, sack us, and then we will propel ourselves into a flurry of activity that would make a manic ADHD sufferer look tame.
Which is exactly what has happened to me this week, having sacked the estate agents for not selling my property.
As I say, maybe it’s me.
Maybe I am too simple; I expect to instruct an estate agent and sell my property. Maybe I missed some esoteric rule which means this is not the case. Perhaps I went into the bakery and ordered a warm croissant with butter on the side instead?
That’s what it feels like.
After several months on the market and a pitiful number of viewings which I can count on one hand, and that dear God, even includes the ultimate tyre kickers; people who have yet to sell their property, I have had enough.
I have had enough of pandering to the reasons of why the estate agents have not done the one job they were tasked with, which if I have not made myself clear enough – was to sell my property.
I have gone down the well-worn, bleedingly obvious and time-honoured tradition of reducing the price (that old roasted chestnut eh?), having the photos re-done and the property being dressed.
But still the estate agent are not playing their part.
And so, hacked off and bored by the lack of somebody doing their bit, I decided having watched a recent episode of The Apprentice and in the wise-ness only being a Lord of Sugar can dispense: I cannot afford to carry any passengers.
So I fired the estate agent for not selling my property.
I didn’t wag or point my finger in a Sugar way, I didn’t berate them for being crap, I didn’t even make a big deal about all my neighbours managing to sell their houses. No, I was nice and to the point, I said “You know what, you’ve had oodles of time to sell this property, it’s obviously not working for us, so let’s part ways”.
Let’s all get on with our lives. I will try and find an estate agent to sell the property and you can go off and try and sell other people’s properties. Maybe you’ll get lucky with some other vendor.
Of course, life is not so simple.
There is the small matter of the estate agents’ 14 day notice period. Which apparently is really, really important.
And it’s so important, because what happens when you give notice that you’re bored of the estate agent who was meant to be selling your house, not selling your house, that then they decide to pull out all the stops and try and sell your house.
Which, by the way, is a little too late.
And so I have told them this. This 14 day notice clause serves nothing but to inconvenience both parties. That is, me and my property. The estate agent on the other hand, thinks they have a two week window to actually do the job they were employed to do in the first place.
Alas, they have yet to realise that all trust at this point, has evaporated into a thin mist of ashes-to-ashes For Sale signs never to be erected again in my front garden.
This comedy charade is a waste of time. The estate agents are now pretending to do the job they were employed to do months ago. And it’s cringe-worthy to watch their farcical antics.
Just when will they learn?