The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 34

March 4, 2013

 

Monday was bright and clear. I got up early, had breakfast and then cleaned the kitchen
and put away everything that was lying around, so it looked tidier. I made my bed and again made sure there was nothing causing clutter in any of the other parts of the house.

Getting rid of my painting stuff had been quite a problem, but I solved that last night, by asking Fred if I could store it in his garage for the time being.

“You'll be using my paint and rollers,” he said.

“I know but I just want the house to look tidy and having five litre tins of paint and
brushes in plastic bags doesn't do well. There isn't even a shed at that house.”

While I was there, he showed me what he wanted me to do – as and when I got the time to do it, and gave me instructions as to which paint to use, and which roller. He showed me where the dust sheets were, and stuff like that.

At 5 past 9 I got a phone call from the Mellor agents. They said anytime today would suit them, so I made the appointment for 11 o'clock. Not five minutes after I hung up with them, the others were on the phone, and I put them down for 2 p.m. I didn't want any overlap.

I'd already done everything I could to get the house ready, so I spent the time trying
out the various features on my phone. And while I was messing with it, it rang.

“Hello. I'm interested in the furniture you have advertised in the post office. Is it still for sale?”

“Yes.”

“When can I come to see it?”

“How about this evening?”

“Daytime would be better for me.”

“How about 4 o'clock today then?”

“Fine, see you then.”

“Do you know how to get here?”

“Give me your post code and I can use my sat-nav if necessary.”

So I did that, and he hung up.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. Again it was somebody wanting the furniture.

“I'm seeing somebody about it this afternoon. You can call back this evening to
see if there's anything left,” I said.

Twice more the phone rang, and each time it was for the furniture. Not a single phone call from anybody wanting a painter.

Finally 11 o'clock came and a very smart car pulled up in front of the driveway. A plump middle aged man got out and came to the door and rang the bell.

“Hello. Mr. Barber? I'm from Mellor's.”

“Come in. Do you want me to show you around?”

“The easiest thing is for me to just wander around by myself and take measurements and things like that. When I'm done, maybe I can ask you a few questions.”

So I had to sit patiently and waited while he did his investigations. He did call me
to help him get the trap door down and I had to explain about there being no light in the attic room.

When he came down and sat to drink his tea he said, “Great potential for that. I can
see a proper bedroom up there with an en suite – which would make this property much more desireable if they put in a proper staircase.”

Having finished his tour and measurements, he then asked me about the gas, electric and water supplies, and if I knew if the property was freehold or had ground rent. I didn't know.

“You need to contact the owner, Mrs. Mills, for those sorts of details. She has all the paperwork from the previous owner whom she inherited the house from.”

“Well, that about wraps it up, I think. I'll contact Mrs. Mills and give her my report
and what I think it's worth.”

“Can you give me a rough idea?”

“Let's just say in the ballpark of £160-175,000,” he said. “Have you had others
around?”

“You're the second and there's another coming later. Do you think it will sell quickly?”

“I think it's a very nice location – near the train stations – near schools – near the shops. That will count for a lot. Whoever buys it will probably want to update it – so it can appeal to both first time buyers and those with investment money to spend. Yes, It think it
will go in a short time – maybe six months at the outside. Can you tell me if the one who came before had the same sort of price in mind?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “Thanks for coming,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Thanks for choosing us,” he replied. “I hope we'll be able to work together.”

I'd turned off my phone while he was there, and I was interested to see what messages
had been left.

The first one was from somebody who left no message. The second was someone interested in hiring a painter, and left her number for me to call her back.

When I did, she asked me if I could give her a quote for painting one room in her
house. I took the details, and finding the location not too far from here, I agreed to go to see her tomorrow morning. At this rate, I didn't know when I was going to get time to do Fred's painting.

The man from Gasgoign Hallman was younger, smarter and much more self-confident.
He spent about the same amount of time on the property and asked the same sorts of questions. When I asked about the likely asking price, he gave the same sort of answer. So all in all, there wasn't much to choose between them.

I called Sam and gave him the information he required. Then I called Mrs Mills.

“Which did you think was best, Stan?”

“Well, there wasn't really much difference. They both said the same sorts of things and gave the same sort of quote. No doubt you'll be hearing from them very soon.”

“But if they're all the same, who should I choose? You saw them. Who did you think
was more trustworthy?”

“Never trust an estate agent,” I said laughing. “They all were fine, but if there
was nothing else between them, I would choose my step-father. But if he quoted lower, then I'd probably go for the one from Mellor. For no other reason than I sort of liked him better as an individual.”

“Okay, thanks Stan. I'll get back to you after I've heard from all three of them, and Mr. Mills and I discuss it thoroughly. Have you sold the silver and gold yet?”

“No. I'm still working on it.”

It was now 3 o'clock and I didn't have time to do any painting before the man came about the furniture. So I just had a sandwich and a drink and looked up the location of the house I was going to to quote for the painting. It was about a mile away, and looked a straight forward route on google maps. I couldn't get over how useful my phone was being. How had I lived without one for all these years?

Then I remembered that the man was coming to see what was on sale – so I had better
get out the various kitchen things that I was selling.

Promptly at 4 the guy arrived, in a white van. It reminded me of my days with Sadie,
and I wondered where she was working at the moment. But boy was I glad I wasn't her employee any longer. Meeting Minnie and getting out of that trap was the best thing I ever did – even if it did mean that I had those rather awkward moments in court.

“Where's the stuff?” he said, without any pleasantries. So I showed him the chest of drawers, the wardrobe, the bedside tables, the kitchen equipment.”

“I'll take it all.”

“What about a bed – but that's up in the attic, so you'd have to help me get it down.”

“Let's have a look then.”

“So once more I pulled down the ladder and he had a quick look up in the attic space.”

“No, I don't want that, but I'd take the trunk.”

“That's not for sale.”

“I could give you £100 for that.”

“No, that’s not for sale, sorry.”

“Well, I think the stuff you mentioned a price for comes to £30, and I'll throw in £20
for the kitchen stuff. That makes £50. Suit you?”

“Sure,” I said, and he counted out five grubby £10 notes and put them in my hand.

“I'll get the big things, but if I bring in some boxes, would you put all the kitchen
stuff into that? Save me some time.”

I agreed to do that, and marvelled at how quickly one could empty one's house. Hopefully we could do the same when the house was finally sold and we were getting rid of the rest of the furniture. But in the back of my mind I could only think – he knows he's going to make double or more on what he got from me. I'm pleased but he thinks I'm a sucker. And I guess I am.

By 5 o'clock he'd driven off. The phone started ringing again, and each time it was
about the furniture. And when I mentioned all that was left was a single bed, there were no takers. I'd have to get rid of that somehow, but it wasn't going to be easy.

After tea, I popped over to Fred's to apologise for not getting any painting done. I told
him about my potential customer. He advised me to be very cool and businesslike and not rush into anything. "Tell her you'll send her a written estimate – and then make sure you keep a copy of it. Always make notes about everything you do, and keep them in a filing box or someplace safe where you'll be able to find them."

“And how did the estate agent business come out? Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, that would be great,” I said, and he gave me a bottle, which he'd just opened.

“They were cagey, but suggested somewhere between £160-175,000 – and they all seemed to think the idea of putting in a proper staircase and making the upstairs into a bedsit was the way to go.”

“I'd do more than that with it. I'd add a whole extra third to the house – and put a
double extension upstairs – so you'd have two big bedrooms with en suites.”

“What would you do with downstairs?”

“I'd make a big kitchen – with a dining area at one end. The current kitchen would
be the front hall with the staircase. Lots of windows. People like south facing windows. Patio doors out from both the new room and the current dining room.”

“Boy, that would cost a pretty penny.”

“Sure, but the whole idea is that you have to spend money to make money. And the
value of the house would double, just like the floor space would.”

“The guy from Mellor's said he thought it would go in half a year at the most. Will
you have yours ready to put on the market by then?”

“I should do. But if I really felt I could get that one cheaply enough to make it worthwhile, I'd even think about getting a bridging loan and buy it up front. I could be knocking bits off it, while I was still living here. Usually I live in the place while I'm destroying it, which makes for pretty rough living for awhile.”

“I don't know where I'll live after I finish here. I can stay until the house is ready for the new people to move in – rent free – but after that I'll probably have to find a room somewhere. And I don't know where I'll put my paint supplies and stuff like that.”

“Well, don't get ahead of yourself. Get yourself established with a few small jobs.
That reminds me. Tomorrow when you go for your interview they might ask you if you have any references. Do you?”

“No. But I expect Mrs. Mills would do me one.”

“I'll do you one now, and then you can take that with you – and whip it out if they
ask for it. Don't volunteer it if they don't. I'll say you did a good job for me – although that is yet to be seen.”

“I'll start tomorrow afternoon, I promise.”

“Yeah, I believe you, kid. Keep your pants on. Here, you'd better borrow this too.
It's a good tapeline for measuring the rooms. I'm assuming you don't have one of your own.”

“No, I didn't think about that. Thanks.”

So after that, I finished up my beer while he wrote a quick note, and went home, with
my new found confidence soaring.