One of the more interesting practices in the Real Estate industry is the office inspection or ‘Caravan’.
This weekly jaunt, usually carried out on either a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday morning, is where an entire office – and by office I mean a sales team, not the building, inspect all the new house listings that have been procured by the individual sales members in the past week or so. There were a number of reasons put forward to me in my early days of real estate as to why this practice, ‘The Caravan’, was such an important component to the success of an intended home sale.
The reason I first swallowed was that it was a way in which we could all inspect a colleague’s listing and give our opinions on price to assist the vendor (seller) in understanding what the most buyer attractive listing price was likely to be. But very quickly I saw that this practice had a major flaw. The agent who had listed the property had already discussed and recommended a listing price, which back in the early 2000’s (a hot and rising market) was usually music to a vendor’s ears. The listing agent in arranging the caravan with the vendor would say something like, “Next Tuesday I’ll get my sales team through so they know the property and I’ll let you know what they think about the home and its price.”
For most vendors, this was an epic occurrence, up there with such productions as Ben Hur or more recently Avatar. They would prepare their home with more gusto for a bunch of agents, who’s demeanours ranged from young and enthusiastic to mature and cynical, than they would for a buyer who may be willing to write the cheque.
Some of the offices I worked for in my early days had up to ten agents, so caravans would be a convoy of vehicles stuffed with suited and immaculately made up male and female agents, all of them ready to either impress their own clients with the posse of experts they had with them or impart their professional opinion on the market competitiveness of a colleague’s listing.
Without fail, when the convoy pulled up out the front of the house to dissect, sorry I meant inspect, I would have a massive dejavou, because it felt like a return to every raid or execution of a search warrant that I carried out as a Detective in my Police days. “Bill and Joe, round the back. Harry side door, you two search the car in the drive, Hepps, Phil and I will go through the front. Don’t take any shit from these clowns – let’s go.” My fellow real estate agents finally got used me standing to the side of any front door I knocked at in case someone inside took a pot-shot through the door. Old habits die hard. Luckily I had been out of the cops long enough not to tackle the owner to the ground and scream in their ear, with my knee resting ‘gently’ on their neck, “Where’s the dope dickhead?” Once inside the vendor’s home introductions would be made and a flurry of door opening and ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ would commence, with the vendor trying to scurry along following every agent after the group had dispersed like a mob of cats.
“Mate,” a visiting agent would sidle up to the listing agent at the kitchen bench and ask, “How much you got on this one?” “Three ninety nine?” the listing agent would reply in the form of a half question, looking desperately for a hint of approval from his more ‘experienced’ colleague. A shake of the head and turn toward the dining room with a “you’re dreaming” from the visiting agent would see knees buckle and brows breaking into an instant sweat. The vendor would be waiting in almost pants wetting anticipation for the collective verdict from the ‘the office’ which would be delivered by the listing agent after a meeting was conducted back at the office to discuss the morning’s viewings.
Herein lies the flaw. The enthusiastic listing agent would ring his or her vendor about the result of the caravan and the opinions offered by the band of merry agents. Call me twisted, but eavesdropping on these calls was a highlight for me. Watching some agents hang up the phone visibly trembling, some almost crying from indignant and sometimes terrifying responses from their vendors. “But, Mr Smith, that’s the price the team thought, about $350,000 (which nine times out of ten was the true market price). Ok, Ok, don’t worry. I’ll get you $400,000.” Famous last words in some cases.
The one caravan that will always stick in my mind was when I was working with a newly formed Real Estate business. Two young hotshots who had ridden the wave of success brought on by a bull property market on the Sunshine Coast, decided to venture out on their own and their first order of business was to buy matching BMW’s – one black, one white. Mind you, this method of prioritisation led to the business’s demise in just eighteen months.
On this particular day, one of the properties to be inspected was a potential listing of one of the partners. An owner had come into the office, had some initial discussion about selling and left the keys with the partner, the vendor asking for an appraisal based on the opinions gleaned from the next office caravan.
We all cram into the shiny BM’s, the partners proudly at the wheel, three largish male agents in the back of one, two of them ex-cops (one being me), blotting out any hope of using the rear view mirror for the driver.
We arrive in a quiet cul-de-sac dotted with stylish, mid range family homes. The partner, who had not previously inspected or assessed the property, marched proudly up the drive-way and gave us all instruction, “Nice place, this. Great listing for the office. Go in and let me know what you think.” He then attempted to plunge the most likely key into the front door lock and it would not go in. He tried the two other keys without luck. “He’s given me the wrong keys”. Myself and the other ex-cop in the sales team firmly took charge of the keys and we too failed to engage the lock. In years gone by the 14 pound key (a sledge hammer) would have been utilised, but this was highly unlikely to be a justified means of entry in the real estate world.
My ex-cop mate and I immediately, without even speaking, broke left and right. Instinct kicked in. I shimmied over a side fence, up onto a rear deck and found the laundry door was unlocked. I opened up, walked to the front door and greeted my colleagues with a hero’s nod.
No vendor at home, so opinions and comments flew freely and ten minutes later, the home was secured and we drove off to our next inspection. Back at the office the property was discussed and a likely sale price range was arrived at. The listing partner was assured of the listing. Efficient and timely service was displayed and sure to be rewarded with the business.
Just as our meeting was concluding, the receptionist informed the partner in question that the vendor of the ‘break in’ house was on the phone and he wasn’t happy. Had we let the dog or cat get out and be run over? Did one of the agent’s use the powder room and leave an unwelcome message? My surveillance instincts kicked in and I listened to the phone call whilst appearing to photocopy something. My suspicions were bang on.
“Yes, Mr Jones. We were there this morning. Loved the house. I’m sure we can get you a great result.” I could hear a strained, angry voice cackling out the phone’s ear piece. “But Mr. Jones, we did go there as I said we would. My entire staff inspected the house. They thought the pool area would be a fantastic feature to attract buyers.” The voice became more agitated on the other end of the phone. “What, you don’t have a pool……” The partner slumped into his seat and that is where I left the conversation. I buckled over with laughter and relayed the conversation to my ex-cop colleague. We just roared laughing. Wrong house! The right one was next door.
Someone got a free appraisal whether they liked it or not, and came home to several agents’ cards on their kitchen bench. The mistake was accepted by all parties and I think the partner did go on to list the right property. I could see the writing on the wall and moved on before the business folded. These two guys are still in real estate, so if you want either of them to sell your house, please show them a picture first.
