People ask me all the time “How do you do those foreclosures?” The answer is very simple. “It is not easy!” It is truly like a ministry for me, or a submission to insanity. In either case, there is a level of satisfaction when I can help. I have always been a No. 2 – The Helper. Enneagram Type Two defines the No. 2 Helper as The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive. Looking deeper, it classifies the degree of being a number 2 into three categories. Level 1 (At Their Best): Become deeply unselfish, humble, and altruistic: giving unconditional love to self and others. Feel it is a privilege to be in the lives of others. Level 2: Empathetic, compassionate, feeling for others. Caring and concerned about their needs. Thoughtful, warm-hearted, forgiving and sincere. Level 3: Encouraging and appreciative, able to see the good in others. Service is important, but takes care of self too: they are nurturing, generous, and giving—a truly loving person. Of course, with every positive attribute, there comes the negative, but for this we will focus on the topic at hand; foreclosures. This is accurately described as a life changing occurrence. People are going to lose their home; not just people but homeowners, fathers, mothers, children and pets. Yes, one could argue that there is money associated with this service that could cause one to deviate from the overall goal “Serving to assist others in a difficult situation to make an easier transition out of a bad situation to an opportunity to begin again”. To be honest, I probably lose more than gain in terms of money due to the work involved and lost money in failed reimbursements due to red tape. At any rate, it is thru this process that I have had the privilege of helping some really fantastic people. I have also encountered some less than fantastic. If what you leave behind is an identifier of who you are, we have real issues in our world. So many times, I want to scream “It is not my fault, I didn’t do it, don’t blame me and most importantly, this is just nasty!” I will never understand how one can live in a home and when they invite me in, I am instantaneously gagging from the smell and they just direct that I should probably “watch my step”. PEOPLE. Foreclosure does not render to “I am losing my house so why not let the dog poop in the living room floor?” Then... I realize the most conclusive and descriptive reality, “Shit happens”. It could happen to any one of us. At any point in our lives, “shit could happen”. It does happen. All the time. Sometimes we expect it and other times, we are walking thru life and then the rug is pulled out and we find ourselves thinking it is suitable for the dogs to poop in the living room. Or maybe it is that the shit that occurred is more significant than the shit on the floor. Regardless, I just want to say and hope that someone will hear this loud and clear. MANY LOCAL PEOPLE WILL BE GOING THRU THE HOME. You can be mad at the bank, which is your choice and right. But what you leave behind will be taken to the street, gone thru by neighbors and/or simply thrown in the trash. Some belongings you leave behind could scar the minds & souls of others forever! As I think I have mentioned a million times, this is a busy job. So it is not that unusual for the kids to pop in the car and ride along on a property assessment; especially given the strict deadlines given by the asset managers for us to complete our assignments. (Yes, very much like school only if you mess up, you get the fury of a tremendously overworked, overwhelmed annoyed asset manager who really could care less if your dad just died. A true story for another time). The thing is, this can either be an incredibly positive teaching moment for your kids – “This is what happens if you do not straighten your little ass up” or it can entirely backfire, and it has many times. One particular regrettably haunting moment was with my 5 year old. It was undoubtedly a teaching moment, for both her and myself. We strolled into the house – the aroma of urine filled the air, yet we pressed forward. I should possibly be discomfited to say the scent was nothing out of the ordinary. With my camera in hand, we venture room-by-room, photographing damage, personal items left behind and overall layout to “tell the story” to the asset manager residing in some far off place. Most of the time, I end of closing the closet door before my 5 year old sees the toys or at least muster up a reasonable excuse for why she cannot take her new found treasure home. Most of the time, the previous owners just leave trash; nothing of value, just the junk that was not worth packing. On this particular day that would have been appreciated. I stopped slightly behind her long enough to photograph the living room and then ventured to meet up with her in the master bedroom. I walk in and see my daughter standing next to the master bed (mattresses on the floor), staring at the attractive display of shapes and colors covering the bed. As I get closer to the bed, my filter goes in overdrive and my husband’s dear face comes into my mind. Yet again. I have found myself as the loser at the end of the line for the Mother of the Year award. Better described and visualized. as the group left standing on the stage with those who will be ending their journey on American Idol; I actually visualized this. This time, it was bad and getting worse. The closer I got, the more horrific the situation became. As I started to watch my daughter’s hand slowing reaching toward one of the objects I did the best thing I could do. I screamed. Well, in hindsight there were probably better approaches, but none came to mind at that very moment. Contingency planning was in over-drive. I looked down very quickly as now my daughter’s full attention was on me. I pretended to see something on the ground. Her face went from curious to frantic in less than five. I quickly rushed her out of the room, out of the house and into the car with the mission and hope of disremembering. A true wishful thought. To completely understand this horrific moment, I ask you to close your eyes and imagine you are in a manufactured home, don’t forget the 5 senses – the smell of urine setting the scene, the filth you can taste when you lick your teeth, the deafening silence that reminds you of why you are standing in someone’s bedroom and the vision. The entire bed, I mean in its entireness is sprinkled with dildos of all colors and sizes. I think the pure quantity is more than google ever produced. There are beads of assorted color and size, tube shaped objects, round things that had they not have been with this assortment, you would have categorized as vacuum cleaner parts and about two hundred more objects you have never seen or wanted to imagine. All of the items are unwrapped, in used condition and perfectly displayed for your unobstructed viewing, with the exception of your five year old whose hand is slowing reaching out to grab one of these glorious finds. SERIOUSLY! WTF? Why on earth would someone think that this was a good idea? Shit on the floor seemed like a magnificent find compared to this unexplainable presentation of complete insanity. Ok, now back to the car, we are racing home and my mind is in overdrive. I knew the questions would soon surface during our 15 minute ride home. It only took a few minutes when out of her mouth poured the words I had genuinely dreaded. “Can we go back and get those beads MaMa? I really like them!” I was completely and whole heartedly trying to think of words to say and then my true savior appears. Katie Perry on the radio begins to “Roar”. My 5 year old quickly begins her singing routine and surprisingly, I am off the hook, well at least until her daddy asks how her day was, which he did, and which she answered and then I had to sit in time out once again. Bad Bad Mommy Day. For those of you who are not familiar with the terms for foreclosures, CFK or “Cash for Keys” is a term used when the bank is offering money to relocate the previous borrower out of the home. The conditions are very clear and specific. If you vacate by “x” date, and you leave the property in “Broom Swept Condition”, then you get money. This seems like a very easy thing to understand. Yet, the day that we are scheduled to do the final walk through, I am always amazed and the various ways this agreement can be translated. My normal routine is to call the day before, confirm our appointment and then prepare for the visit. By the appointment time, I have the check in hand from the bank, gather my camera, gun and other necessary items and knock on the door. On one particular occasion, probably one of the worst soul scaring moment, I arrived to a scheduled visit to a home in a very prestigious neighborhood where homes are valuing from $250K and up. I knock on the door and the previous borrower greets me and lets me in. Instantly, as I cross the threshold, my eyes are burning, I can slowly begin feeling my lunch fighting gravity, and all the while confused at how the previous borrower is not reacting. Nothing at all. All I can do at this point is think of an excuse that will allow me to plug my nose but nothing is coming to mind, I assume because of the toxins now taking over my mind and completely preventing any rational thought. That was it! He had suffered the smell so long, that he was now in another world that obviously smelt much better than the hole I currently stood. I had enough cognizance left to begin glancing around the home and the words “Broom Swept Condition” was going across my mind like a neon going out of business sign. The piles of who knows what were huge. I don’t recall the contents of the piles. I only knew it smelled, it was large, and it then fear set in. Someone is going to have to clean this up. Finding a contractor to do this job in our town, impossible. The more I went thru the home, the worse it got. The garage floor was unseen. The rotting refrigerator in the garage set the scene with its profound smell which only lead your mind to envision a million maggots crawling around. The living room had a huge bird cage next to a wall that was decorated with bird poop. The rest is a blur. I think it was a few more minutes, I knew I had to have fresh air. I don’t remember the excuse, but I found my exit and continued the visit from the advantage of clean air. He asked for his check. I could not believe it. I just stood there. Unable to think of anything that was sensible, conclusive and/or not a personal attack to the person who had seriously asked me such a ridiculous question. I managed to tell him I would have to see what the quote was to have the rest of the items removed and that I would get back to him. $5000.00 and 5 commercial dump loads, this borrower now owed money for his cash for keys exchange. Of course the banks do not collect, but perhaps they should. Even after the house was emptied it wreaked of animal feces of all kinds, rotting food and many other unidentifiable smells. Having gone through this same scenario so many times, I think that Webster should adopt these knew terms in efforts to educate people on what Broom Swept Condition means. At the very least, WIKI it. ANYTHING to avoid another stinky home. I can hope. If you are in this situation, you should be mindful of a few priority facts: 1. Your name is public record and also public record associated with your address 2. You can make money from selling stuff on craigslist 3. There is no white knight, it sucks. 4. Leaving behind family photo albums is a mistake. They will be destroyed. 5. You make think that by destroying the house that you are getting back at someone. Not the case. Banks are set up to loan money, not own real estate. Your property will be sold to the highest bidder as fast as possible. 6. Often, banks offer cash for keys in exchange for some reasonable amount of cooperation. If they tell you to leave it in broom swept condition, and you don’t… you will not likely get paid. 7. The agent is there to help. They have families. They work hard. They will not help you if they sense danger. 8. If you are behind in 2 payments or more, considering selling. This is not a consideration when you are 2 years behind. You should collect boxes and start packing.
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 07:31:16 +0000
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