I came across a promising house in Norman Park last week. It was a three-bedroom Queenslander on a decent street that needed some work - perfect. Alas, there wasn’t an asking price. As you’d guess by my earlier post, this really pisses me off.
Normally, I’d move on. Call it a form of peaceful protest: you try to play games by not listing a price, I take my money elsewhere. But there was something about this house that prompted me to e-mail the agent.
So I did. I simply asked “What’s the price range of this property?” and waited for a response. It came the next day, when the fail estate agent called me. Our friendly chat went something like this:
Agent: We haven’t set a price yet, but I suggest coming to have a look
Me: I don’t want to waste my time and yours if it’s out of my price range. You’re telling me the seller doesn’t have a reserve?
Agent: Well, they have an idea
Me: And that would be?
Pause
Agent: How much have you got to spend?
Me: That’s not the point. My budget and what I’m willing to pay are two different things. I wouldn’t spend my whole budget on a shanty shack in Ipswich
Agent: I see. Well, what’s the most you’d spend on a property?
At this point, I was pretty frustrated. I think I actually let slip an expletive to demonstrate how his coyness was pissing me off. The back-and-forth conversation could’ve been cute if we were dating, but this dude has a job to do: sell a house. He was making it very difficult.
In the end, I declined to tell him how much money I had to spend. To me, it would be like going to buy a new car and having the dealer ask what you’d be willing to pay. Something for sale should have a price on it.
