I have in the past eulogised the Canadian real estate market vis a vis that extant in the UK. Mind you – the operation of just about any other real estate market might seem preferable to the cack handed (and I write as a southpaw myself!) methodology that we must needs follow in England. Do please refer to this previous post on the subject for yet another example thereof. The truth of the matter is more probably that any other system appears superior to one’s own – until one experiences it first hand.
One of the definite benefits of the Canadian system is that the two realtors (estate agents) involved in the process actually have subtly different roles. Rather than visiting many different realtors in the search for a property one always works with the same concern who bring to the purchaser details of all suitable properties, whether or not they are listed with that realtor. If a sale is eventually agreed both realtors take a share of the commission. If nothing else, this means that one works with someone whom one knows and trusts and the immediate individuals involved always have one’s best interests at heart.
The second major benefit is that the basic contracts are drawn up by the realtors at the point of offer. Certain conditions may be applied – such as the outcome of a house inspection – but if the offer is accepted and the conditions are satisfied then the purchase is signed and sealed and there is no possibility of gazumping or of any other such devious practice.
There is – however – plenty that can go amiss up to that point. Herewith details of our own recent experience…
We had seen – before we left the UK – a property of which we liked the look. Our dear friends in Saanichton – with whom we are currently living – had even been for a visit and had given us a sneak preview via Facetime. Ah – the wonders of technology…
Once landed in the province we quickly organised a viewing in person and – having very much liked what we saw – further arranged a second such. Though the house was priced rather higher than we felt was merited we prepared an offer. At this juncture – however – the vendors’ realtor disclosed that there was already an offer on the table to which the vendors had not responded. We should have been informed of this before we made the second viewing, but the vendors’ realtor omitted so to do.
Given that no offer had yet been accepted we found ourself in an unpleasant ‘multiple-offer’ situation. The mechanism here seems to be that both prospective purchasers are informed of each other’s presence and invited to make their best offer. Neither party may know, however, what the other has – or has previously -offered and one must therefore make a wild stab in the dark.
We felt obliged to offer rather more than we had wished, but were told that the vendor would – in any case – make a counter-offer to our ‘opponents’ first. They -quite understandably – walked away at this point and the vendor then made a counter-offer to us.
It rapidly became clear that they really weren’t prepared to make much of a concession at all and several rounds of us upping our offer and them giving nothing away left us frustrated and angry. Our sole conclusion from this bizarre behaviour was that – in spite of having listed their property – they didn’t actually want to sell it at all.
At this point we also decided to back out but – after a number of further days of fruitless searching in what has become a sellers’ market – reluctantly settled on making one last attempt at this house with which we had become enamoured. We gave the vendors pretty much everything they wanted, only to be told that they had gone away for a week on their sail boat! Needless to say, The Girl was by now spitting tacks!
The vendors’ realtor suggested that – could we agree to a completion date of the end of October (some three months hence) – then a deal might be done. The vendors had clearly not yet themselves found a property to purchase and had no idea what to do.
At this point we did finally walk away. The vendors’ realtor was most apologetic concerning his clients’ strange behaviour, but at this point no parsnips were buttered – as the saying goes.
There is clearly – as with all such things – some meaning behind all of this emotional upheaval. We await with interest to see what it is.
A five hour drive back to the coast the next morning took us to Horseshoe Bay, whence we took the ferry to Nanaimo – home both to the famous Nanaimo bar (look it up!) and to the Girl’s mother.
A night in Nanaimo was followed by a final drive down the east coast of Vancouver Island and a last short ferry crossing – the (slow) shortcut across the Saanich inlet from Mill Bay to Brentwood Bay.
How am I doing at selling you the delights of beautiful British Columbia?
