Liar

When the phone rang this morning just as I was about to leave for the Ezy Swim class, I knew it was the estate agent. I considered going out and not answering it, but no, he is persistent. I knew he would ring and ring until he got through. I picked up the phone; I may as well get the conversation over with.

“About your letter,” he began. I had written him a letter after our last phone conversation, outlining what I though was Reasonable Notice and what I thought would be a Reasonable Number of Occasions for him to bring prospective buyers round to the flat that we rent. “If you don’t agree to give me access to the unit whenever I need it then we are going to have to go to tribunal. I have had the owner on the phone. She’s getting a divorce; she’s coming home from Japan, and she needs to sell the property.” Perhaps he was trying to appeal to my sympathy with this information, and if, as he claims, this woman is indeed married to a Japanese man and is now getting a divorce, then I would normally feel sorry for her. However, as the estate agent has bullied me in all our previous conversations, instead of feeling compassion, I just wondered how he planned to use this information to intimidate me into giving him his way.

“Look,” I said. “I have consulted both the tribunal and the tenants’ advice and advocacy service, and they both say that twice a week is reasonable access.” There was a lull in the cartoon offering from ABC kids, and Toby started clamouring for my attention.

“Can you shut that child up, I can’t concentrate with his noise in the background,” said the estate agent. “ Can’t you tell him to go and do something?”

“No, he lives here; he’ll always be in the background,” I said. Normally, when Toby badgers me whilst I am on the telephone, I put on a DVD or tell him to play with his lego until I have finished my conversation, and then I give him a lecture about how he has to be good while I am having important conversations on the telephone, but this time I did nothing, the estate agent’s manner is such that I want to do him no favours.

Getting back to the discussion about Reasonable Notice, the estate agent said: “The tenancy act says I need only give three hours notice for a visit anytime between nine and five.”

“Are you talking about the 1987 Residential Tenancies Act?” I asked. “Because when I read it, it said the landlord had to give Reasonable Notice and that he could only bring prospective buyers round on a Reasonable Number of Occasions, but it did not define what it deemed Reasonable.”

“Did you read the 1998 amendments?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, the 1998 amendments were made to give landlord’s proper access.”

“Ok, well I’ll have to check this with the tenants’ advice and advocacy service,” I said.

“It’s the poor girl I feel sorry for,” said the estate agent trying a different tactic, but by this stage in the conversation, I was wondering if the “poor girl” even exists; she is probably just another rich investor wanting a bit of ready cash. “Normally we would hold an open house and the place would sell, but we’re not even advertising the unit in the newspaper.”

“So, put an advertisement in the newspaper,” I said wondering how he was going to spin this so that I was the one preventing him from doing appropriate advertising for the unit.

“The owner can’t afford to.” I found this strange as in a previous conversation the estate agent had claimed that he dealt only with the owner’s solicitor and not the owner. Surely if money is short and a quick sale of the unit is essential then it would make more sense to economise on the solicitor and to use the money saved on a newspaper advertisement. But I said nothing on this topic; I do not hope to have an influence on how the owner spends her money.

“So hold an open house,” I said.

“I don’t think you understand what happens at an open house,” said the estate agent.

“You open the house, and members of the public wander in with a view to buying it. What I don’t understand is why I, as a prospective buyer, am not allowed to attend,” I said. It was my desire to attend the open houses that got us a 60-day notice to vacate the property a couple of weeks ago.

“You’re not going to buy the unit,” said the estate agent.

“Not at this price, no, but we are looking to buy a unit in this area,” I said.

“What are you willing to pay for this unit?” asked the estate agent.

“Well, if I were going to make an offer on this unit, I would get a surveyor in. I think there is a lot structurally wrong with the building. The neighbour downstairs had concrete cancer; two of the windows in this unit have cracked during our tenancy, which suggests subsidence; and none of the internal doors fit in their frames, which again suggests that the building has moved since it was built. Now, if the building is going to need underpinning this will be expensive and our offer price will reflect that, along with the cost of new doors, and the cost to cure any concrete cancer.”

After I said this, the Estate Agent got considerably less aggressive, almost nice, and we agreed that he would hold an open house on Saturday. He warned me that the prospective buyers might be rude. But, I cannot imagine anyone being ruder than the estate agent has been. If anyone makes rude comments about our choice of bed sheets, I think I will manage to not to breakdown and cry.

When I got off the phone, I was exhausted. The conversation had only lasted for 19 minutes, but the estate agent has one of those personalities that leaches the energy.

After the Ezy swim class, I searched the internet for the 1998 amendments to the 1987 Residential Tenancies Act, and what do you know, there is no clause which allows the landlord to enter a rented premises to show prospective buyers around after only giving three hours notice. The estate agent is a compulsive liar.