So here’s the conversation:
“Ring. Ring. Ring.”
Cell phone. Didn’t recognize the number. Reluctant to answer, but did anyway. Might be a kid-related emergency, never know.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Julia.”
“Hi.” Racking brain, trying to place vaguely familiar voice.
“This is Sarah.”
Um… Sarah who?
“Oh, hi, Sarah. How are you?” Who are you?
“I’m fine. Fine. Just calling to wish you a happy New Year and let you know that if you are interested in looking at any property, now is a great time to buy. It’s the perfect time to consider an investment property.”
Snap! It’s Sarah, the real estate agent who sold us our home years ago. The woman who sends us a cheap calendar every Christmas, which goes straight into the recycle bin because I have a smart phone and a computer. The woman I have only spoken to twice since we closed on the property. The last time was a brief encounter in the produce section of the local supermarket several years ago.
“Oh, gosh… I…”
“I have this great little two bedroom, single bath home, just came back on the market, all remodeled, good location, under $400,000. It would make a perfect rental. The market is never going to be any better than it is right now, you know.”
“I, uh…”
“I figured since your kids are older now, and you two are pretty much empty-nesters, you might want to downsize or make an investment. There’s never going to be a better time to buy. In fact I’m getting ready to list a home we bought as an investment property. Great kitchen, nice views. It’s a beautiful place. The minute I thought of listing it, I thought of you.”
Crap. Crap. Crap. ”Well, that’s nice of you to think of us, but we’re really not interested in…”
“I know you and your husband would just love either of these homes. If you see one of them, you might change your minds.”
Shit. She must be so desperate. When real estate tanks in Cali, man, it tanks. And agents have been hit hard. Think fast. Think fast. “Uh, I don’t know, Sarah, we really hadn’t planned on investing in…”
“Why don’t we just set up a time to meet and I can show you a few of the new listings. They are so cute. I bet you’ll fall in love with one.”
Oh fuck. What would the nice me do? The nice me would string her along, say, sure, let’s set a date, and then immediately regret agreeing to meet with her. The nice me would suck it up, follow her around for a day, look at homes, nod my head, say nice things, be agreeable, probably even mumble something about meeting again, all the while kicking myself. I’d waste her time and mine. End up resentful and pissed, mostly at myself. And stop answering her phone calls.
My mom always told me to be nice. Over the years, I’ve learned the hard way that being nice and being honest aren’t always same thing. The problem is, when you aren’t honest, you end up wishing to hell you had been.
Look, it took a lot of courage for her to make this cold call, but now I had to woman up and tell her no.
“Listen, Sarah, we’re not…”
“Oh, but I could meet with you whenever you…”
“Sarah, we’re not interested in looking at property.”
“But this is a very good time to… and you might want to downsize now that the kids are…”
“No, Sarah, we don’t want to invest in property. We have no plans to move in the foreseeable future.”
“Are you sure? Because you can get an excellent price for…”
Criminy, woman, stop making this so hard for yourself! “I’m sure.”
“Do you have an email address? I can keep you up to date on new listings and my open houses if you give me your email address.”
“Sarah, I’m not interested. I appreciate your call. There’s no need for my email address because we do not plan to buy a house. Thanks and I hope this year is better for you.”
“But…”
“Bye, Sarah.”
Oh gawd! I hate encounters like that. Hate. Them. When I imagine how Sarah had to swallow her pride, and call me, a woman she hadn’t seen in, I don’t know, three, four, five years, and practically beg me to buy a house… Made me so sad, yet her phone call put me in such an awkward position. Either I play nice and make myself miserable or I give her the smack down. Doesn’t matter, the outcome is the same - no sale.
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Whoa. Hear ya, sister. But you handled it. Yes, indeed, you handled it. Good for you.
She strides into the room, small stepladder under one arm (even though she loathes ladders because of her fear of heights), large roll of some sort of paper or fabric resting on the opposite shoulder. She’s got a tool belt around her waist and a gleam in her eye. Setting down the roll against the far wall, she opens the ladder and takes a few steps back to eye her measurements, her lips pursed in thought (not deep thought, mind, just thought).
She drags the ladder to the left and reaches for the roll, unfurling the long, colorful, painted banner. Crawling up the ladder (moving ever-so-carefully because she’s probably going to fall to her painful death) with one corner of the banner still in hand, she braces herself against the wall (ignoring the thundering pulse of fear in her veins), carefully grabs the hammer from her tool belt and digs a nail out of the pouch beside the hooks (determined not to look down and see the freaky-crazy three feet she’ll fall when the ladder collapses). She manages to hold the corner of the banner against the wall with her palm and grips the nail between two fingers, tapping it in gently at first, then with more force as she sets it and moves her hand.
Humming a tune (off key, probably), she clamors down the massively terrifying stepladder to drag the monstrous beast over to the other side of the room, then repeats the process with the other end of the banner. Frankly stunned to have survived her death-defying ladder acrobatics, she folds up the wee little ladder, hooks her arm around it, and backs up to look at the banner (which is slightly crooked, but seriously…you can’t expect her to climb back up on that death trap to fix it). With a grin and a nod of satisfaction, she turns and heads back out of the room, leaving the banner as a cheerfully beacon of appreciation and respect. It proclaims in no uncertain terms…
Nicely handled, Julia. You’re awesome!!
ps. Being nice and being polite should never require a person to subjugate their own wants and needs to make someone else feel better.
Sometimes we have to be honest instead of being nice. Of course you know you did the right thing.
Dear Tracy, considered a job in the writing biz?
There’s nothing like the stench of desperation. Oy.
You are way nicer than I am. My feeling is that phone calls to my home, or visits to my home, are an invasion of my privacy. If you are soliciting, send me something in the mail. But to call or knock on my door, uninvited, especially while I am cooking, helping my kids with homework, or just spending time with my family, is not appreciated and will not result in a sale.
My hubby is much nicer than I am. I really don’t have the patience to deal with that stuff anymore. But honestly, I think your caller was rude. It was obvious you weren’t interested, she went in for the hard-sell and wouldn’t let it go.
Geez Louise! I thought peddling magazine subscriptions door to door was a hard sell, but a pressured cold call on a second house?
Come on Julia, don’t be a stick-in-the-mud, she was willing to pick you up and drive you to the property, what more do you want? Just buy the house already, it might be a nice house. By lunchtime you may find that you really are hungry for a second house, so why wait? lol
(Its a fine line between courage and stupidity. That poor desperate woman.)
XXOO Kat
You handled that way better than I would have!! You were way nicer! It’s okay to say no.
Jaye,
Not for a long time now. I’m far more comfy reviewing than creating. Those who can, do, those who can’t…
Though after that post, I’m thinking it’d be a good idea to quit the coffee after 8pm.
Frankly, I wouldn’t have answered the phone. If I was incredibly curious I would check the voice mail/answering machine.
In the event I totally lost my mind and answered the phone, at the first moment I realized where the call was going I would have said, “I’m sorry, but I’m really not interested.” And immediately disconnect.
That’s exactly how I deal with door-to-door visitors. “So sorry. I’m not interested.” And shut the door. No slamming. Just shut the door.
So I believe you didn’t just go the extra mile…you probably traveled several.
Man, people suck. Good for you, Julia, and for your patience. I would’ve probably pulled the “I’m on the other line with long distance” thing and hung up on her.
I just finished commenting on another blog saying that I am usually nice, but reading this post reminds me of the other side of me, Mt Jekyll whether at home or in the office. Although in the latter I don’t usually answer the phone, but I was on the mezzanine floor last year above reception when I heard the phone and the receptionist answer. Bare in mind I only got one side of the conversation and it went like this:
hello, xyz securities Ltd, How may I help you
xxxxxx
Does Mr Stronach know you and is he expecting your call
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I am sure he may well be interested, but have you tried writing to him, I can provide the address.
xxxxxxxxxxx
No, not really, and I am not being obstructive Mr Stronach really, really does not like cold callers, for any reason .
xxxxxx
No, I am not explaining it to you properly. Unlike myself and my colleagues who are trained in dealing with callers Mr Stronach, while our boss and a very good one has never had our level of training on handling telephone calls and he can become quite rude and he has been known to tell the odd cold caller who has managed to by pass reception where to go in the most vulgar and colourful language. Now I am prepared to put you through if you really insist, but, I will tell him that you have said that you know him. When he discovers that he does not know you, you had better be prepared to be told to EFF OFF, although he will not be so polite.
xxxxxxxx
No, do you want the postal address for him
It’s true I regret to say, a cloud comes over me and I get quite abusive
I think you spent to long but well done
Tom, you are hilarious! Another Flash Fiction! I’m sympathetic because I know how tough the market is now. She must really be suffering to call me.
Thanks, Casey. Took me years to learn to say ‘no’.
It’s a tough world, Julianne. I swear!
Because you’re smart, Anny.
No Tracy, don’t quit the coffee! I love your Flash Fiction! I want more!
Oh, Kat, the magazine salesmen are killer, just killer! The vacuum guys worse.
I agree, Penny. I do hate solicitors. It would have been easier if she was a complete stranger to me. But yeah, like I have the money to throw away on a second home!
Amber, yup. Wish they were one and the same.
I just love this, Tracy! Ladders are the bane of my existence too.
On my top 10 loathe list, sales calls would hover near the top. Kudos to you. You were firm but kind. Its just not a fun thing.
I am not interested, thanks for thinking of me though. Best of luck with all that. If they persist I will say that if I have any friends I will send them her way.
Those cold emails are hell.
I have spent a huge part of my life in sales or fundraising. A hundred calls = 2 sales, parties, donors. But if someone isn’t going to bite that is okay. A sincere thanks for your time gets me in the door next time or elsewhere.
Yup, it’s a tough job, Steph. I’ve done fundraising as well and it’s far from my favorite task.
Mine too, Sandra.