Somewhere in the fine print under "real estate agent: job description", there must be a clause that states "whatever it takes". It's got to be there in the teeny, tiny print.
Today was a perfect example. There's a choice when showing houses between safety of one form and safety of another. Having already locked myself out of a couple houses during showings, my system has been to leave the key in the door rather than bringing it in to lay on a table (The mistakes caused by this action are another story to be told!). Leaving the key in the door literally leaves the door open for some sick-o to enter the house and accost me and my clients, but the chances of such an encounter seemed slim . . . until today.
It was a cold and rainy day (and not just because Snoopy starts his stories that way). A real Winnie the Pooh blustery storm moved across St. Paul as my client (also a woman) and I darted in and out of vacant houses. Huge bolts of lightening split the sky as blobs of water pretending to be rain drops fell. Mentally I'm wondering what kind of nut would enjoy a job like this.
The final house showed possibility. In our haste to enter, the door had been left ajar with the key in the deadbolt. We wandered through the nooks and crannies, checking out where false walls had destroyed the original character and discussing how to reconfigure the bathroom. Young male voices set us on alert. They seemed very close, almost in the house. Could someone be downstairs?
Down the stairs and to the front door we flew (Well, not really. I'm too old to fly!). The door was shut and locked. Hmmmm? Locked? I knew I had left the door ajar and unlocked. What was up? The key was no longer on the outside and 4 young men were walking and biking down the middle of the street. Hailing them resulted in denial of seeing anyone take the key, but my gut knew better. They had the key. I just knew it.
It mattered not that the house was vacant. As an agent, it was my responsibility to secure the building when my showing was done (There's that fine print thing.). A call to the listing agent connected to voice mail. A call to the showing line created a diversion for those in the call center. A call to the police produced results. As the dispatcher and I discussed the problem the same young teens circled their bikes in the road behind my car. It was dark and drizzly by now but one young man laid his bike down and then disappeared. When he returned, the group rode off. My suspicious thought was they had seen my car and changed their minds about entering the house.
Nine long dribbly minutes passed while my windows fogged up. The police announced their arrival with spot lights canvassing the empty yards. Normal people were in their houses enjoying TV by this time. The officers took our report and went to check the front door. "There's a key in the lock," proclaimed the rescuing knight. Ahhhh, I thought. That's why one of the young men got off his bike. They had returned the key surrepticiously.
Of course, I had mud on my face. The officers knew all too well the danger I posed to myself and client with my "key on the outside" system. Thankfully they refrained from lecturing. The house was secured. My client and I parted ways. Maybe, just maybe, I'll need to develop a better system of key control in the future.
Good Post.
Interest information.
Look forward to reading more on you blog.
Best for Luck
Posted by: Tuscaloosa Houses | September 28, 2008 at 09:04 PM