In the early days of the Real Estate Red Zone podcast, we had a tradition each Halloween of sharing horror stories from real estate professionals. By "horror stories" I mean real estate transactions gone hilariously bad, and by "tradition" I mean we did it twice over nine years.
Anyway, next week we're resurrecting the fun with a slew of stories for your listening enjoyment. In the meantime, here's an experience from a College Station Realtor friend of mine. He said it warranted a change of pants.
"I was representing the homebuyer and had confirmed with the listing agent that it was okay to show his listed property on the following day. The property was a rather decrepit home in an older part of town, and the listing notes indicated that the owner had a dog that would bark at us when we got there, but there was nothing to fear in terms of personal safety.
"The buyer and I arrived the following day, right on time for the showing. I noticed a car in the driveway, which was a little odd, considering real estate agents usually advise their seller clients to leave the property during showings.
"Usually I use the lockbox to get the key, then I call out when I step inside so anyone who is still in the house will know I am there. This situation seemed a bit off, so I knocked on the door and, true to form, the barking begins, but no one answers. The bark sounded like that of a small terrier with an inferiority complex—high pitched, ferocious, and incessant. I rang the doorbell. Still no answer, and the barking intensified. At this point, I figured I should go with plan A (get the key from the lockbox and call out).
"I got the key, unlocked the door, and opened it a crack. The dog wasn't visible, but the barking was loud enough for me to tell he was nearby. I also heard the faint sounds of a shower running.
"I stepped inside with my client behind me, and the dog was about five feet away, yipping his little head off. He was a white terrier mix about the size of a schnauzer. I called out again, sure that there was someone in the house that the little dog was protecting. Sure enough, a rather confused-looking elderly man emerged from a bedroom doorway with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Clearly there had either been some miscommunication about the showing or he had forgotten about it.
"The man asked that we step back outside while he got dressed and put the dog away. As we did, the dog seized his opportunity and lunged for my calf, ripping my pants and almost breaking the skin. He left a bruise.
"Seeing this, the buyer lost all interest in the property, and we left, never to return."
The moral, my friend said, is sellers need to crate or remove dogs before showings. It might cost them more than a new pair of trousers.