Step 1: include a seller’s agent who lives the Vivo Sudamericano.
Step 2: watch the disaster unfold
I was shopping for beach property in order to assuage my hunger to be near the sea. Santiago is nice but I’m a water dog and require regular injections of saline in order to stay balanced. The mountains really don’t do anything for me, though the desert’s lack of human habitability I find slightly comforting.
I had found a beach property I quite liked, which was recommended to me by my friend CaliforniaBob (rest in peace) so with my lust for water and his mortality fresh in my head, I decided to pull the trigger and start enjoying it before I too dropped dead unexpectedly. The first time I had been down to see these particular parcels, I was impressed, and after having thought about it briefly, decided to go have another look. The second time I arrived, I went to see the lot I had my eye on.
“Oh, yeah. This one was sold.” said ChamulloBob. Hmm. Well, shit. The properties were being represented both by a local seller’s agent (ChamulloBob) and a partial-local buyer’s agent (a gringo who has been here in Chile for several years). Their deal was that they would split the commission on the sale. Fairly straightforward.
“What else have you got?” I asked.
“These other ones down here, let’s go see,” and so we went to look. As luck would have it, not just another lot, with better elevation and a better view of the bay, but its neighboring lot as well, both available and both for similar prices. After inquiring as to what the sellers were asking for them, I made up my mind. Both were asking some 8.5 million CLP each, which was a steal in my opinion, but my inner Jew had to haggle and see if I could bring the price down some.
“I’ll take them both. 8.5 is OK but see if they will take 8 first.”
And so, I assumed that my simple request would be followed, meaning that they would see if the seller would take 8, and if not, capitulate to their 8.5 asking price. Not rocket science.
And so a week passed and I heard nothing, then I get an email that they would not accept 8 and wanted 8.5. “OK.” Thinking that my simple instructions would be followed. Not rocket science.
Then several days pass and I get a note that one lot has an offer for 9. “Hmmm…” thinks my brain, “These lots have been sitting around for months with no buyers and all of a sudden, when I show interest, the magical mystical offers materialize.” Let me guess, it’s an invisible Argentine, who always manages to outdo my last offer by a little amount. Because that has happened, like, ALWAYS, in every single property negotiation we have done, ever, in South America, of which there have been many, and we’ve been there and done that and called them on it. Then, quickly, those magical Argentines stop coming to the bid table. Amazing!
Do you hear that, Argentina? Your people are being used as an excuse for other South American countries to pull the Vivo on price negotiations!
So I said this to my buyer’s agent, and I think he took it the wrong way and assumed I was accusing him of ripping me off, which was not the case. “I’m going to sit on my hands and watch what happens to this,” I told him, and so became an amused observer with an eye on the prize.
And so a few more days pass, and then we hear that the seller’s agent is selling it for 8.5, not 9, and they sign the papers tomorrow. Which is funny and sad, because that’s what I said I would pay for it. And I really wanted to two adjoining lots, so I’m not really interested in the other one anymore.
So, my INTJ brain ticks through this data and comes to the only calculable conclusion that ChamulloBob was acting as both a buyer’s and seller’s agent in this case, and screwed both me and my buyer’s agent over for the grand reward of a couple hundred bucks. Something about which I also hint to GringoRealtorBob, which I think might have made him more angry, because I haven’t heard back from him.
Then I realize that I did all that daily standing-in-line at a Uruguayan bank (which I know I will do plenty of when I am in Hell) for nothing…