Rental Dementia: Pilfering the Listing

| 11 Nov 2014 | 01:31

    It was a shabby little co-op in the West Village, and I had weaseled my way into a few pictures and a couple of open houses. Sale listings don’t come easy to a rental agent, and this one hadn’t exactly fallen in my lap.

    An old friend of mine had years ago rented in the building and had heard that a cute little one-bedroom was currently for sale. If that were true, and we could see it, she would almost certainly take it. What could be easier? I started with the doorman, who didn’t seem to know much except that I would need to contact an agent. When I told him that I was an agent, he turned immediately suspicious, scrutinized my business card and said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

    I went back to the office to dig around on-line. If a broker had a unit for sale in the building, he or she would have to advertise it somewhere. Nothing came up on the Times, the websites were empty and even OLR and Real Plus were a bust. With a strong cup of coffee in mind, I headed out for a break, and that’s when I found it.

    Every day I pass another competing real estate office on my way for coffee. It’s right around the corner, and as it’s always a good idea to see what the competition is pitching, I stopped to check out the window display. I immediately recognized the building from the picture and headed inside.

    The agent who listed the unit was either still in bed, at the gym, at a better job interview or perhaps actually on another appointment as the receptionist had claimed. I explained my situation to the manager, but he wasn’t interested; they wouldn’t co-broke the unit, nor would he explain why. With little else to say, I headed back to my office, determined to keep digging.

    Believe it or not, a co-op board can occasionally be helpful. A few phone calls later, and I had the managing agent on the phone. As far as she knew, there was nothing for sale in the building, but I could always try the sponsor to see if he had anything. “Thank you, thank you very much. You don’t know how I could possibly get in touch with him do you?” She did, and I was in business. (Sponsors are usually original investors who hold a good portion of units for themselves and aren’t beholden to the co-op board. They can sell when they want—and to whomever they choose.)

    It was it no less than 10 phone calls before I got him on the line. In the week or two that it took me to contact him and then convince him to let me show it, my friend had changed her mind and was no longer interested in buying. She’d rent a little longer until prices came down. “Let me know how that works out,” I said. It was fine with me. The sponsor agreed to allow me to market his apartment. It wasn’t an exclusive, but I had a new sale listing.

    A day later my ad was on the New York Times and a stream of agents were already calling. As it wasn’t my exclusive, I was under no obligation to co-broke it. The sponsor was paying a three percent commission, and that isn’t the kind of money you can chop in half. It was why the original manager ran me out of his office. He just didn’t bother to explain the details for fear I might somehow get the listing on my own. Imagine that …

    It was a little over a week of showing and collecting buyers before an extraordinarily nice young man contacted me about the unit. The apartment wasn’t perfect, but it would certainly work. Even though it was located on the West Village’s most undesirable street, the no-board approval/10 percent down combination was a very attractive feature. His new wife met us in the unit after work, and they made an offer on the spot.

    We waited 10 days without a contract before full-blown panic set in. I called the sponsor again to inquire about the delay. He was distraught and apologetic. He said he felt terrible, but what could he do? A few days after he had verbally accepted our offer, the little office around the corner from my own had submitted a competing offer. Thinking they were the only house with the listing, they were livid when they heard about my deal. The tantrum would normally have gone unnoticed, but they also handled one of his more difficult rental buildings and had done so for many years. He gave them the deal, we were out—how real estate so often works in New York City.