Based on the timetable I had from the town, the sewer line was supposed be ready in time for the connection to be completed before passing papers. I became concerned when the date began to slip. Then I was told the engineers had decided the lines needed more time to settle underground before they’d be ready to use. Argh.
I had to tell our real estate agent the house couldn’t connect to the sewer service until after the sale had been completed. She informed the buyers, who I’ll call the Smiths. They knew there was a chance that would happen, but I really wanted to go to the closing with everything already done.
The meeting was held at the office of the attorney who was hired by the bank writing the mortgage for the Smiths. My wife and I were there with our real estate agent.
We immediately liked the Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The same cannot be said of the attorney their lender was using. She had the same last name as the creator of a new Apple TV series. The same name as the first mate on a boat that gave three-hour tours.
Getting down to business, I explained the situation. The town expected a delay of two months. A licensed contractor had already been hired to remove the septic tank and connect the house to the new sewer system. I would put plenty of money in escrow to cover not only the balance of the contractor’s fee, but the cost of pumping the septic tank as often as the Smiths wished.
The attorney turned to Mr. and Mrs. Smith and said, in a very snide tone, “You’re screwed.”
My wife and I were dumbfounded. Not only was the lawyer being unprofessional and insulting, the fact was that nobody was being screwed.
Our agent immediately spoke up in our defense. She told the lawyer that I had done everything possible to have the sewer work completed ahead of time, but it was entirely out of my control. Then she revealed there had been another offer on the property, for more money. My unprecedented gesture, of accepting less money, without asking for a counter-offer, was news to the Smiths.
After that bizarre upset, we passed papers. We agreed on an amount to be held in escrow by the attorney, and I wrote a check for even more money. We left the meeting feeling good about the Smith family, but with the lawyer’s rudeness leaving a bitter aftertaste.
It was hot mid-August weather. Driving home on the highway, the radiator on my ’89 Honda Civic blew out. We had to drive to our new home with the heat in the car turned up full blast.
