Thursday, May 13, 2021

All I ever wanted

I thought I had a beach house reserved, but it turns out that I don't. Having given up on the idea of Ireland once again (next year!) I decided that we should go to the beach this summer. Unfortunately for me, everyone else who had to cancel their other travel plans also decided to go to the beach, to the same beach town where I want to go, at the same time that I want to go. For the last almost three months, I've been searching for an available rental for the second week in August; and for the last three months, I found nothing. Until last Thursday, when I found just the right place in just the right location for just the right price. And I quickly reserved it, and I signed the lease, and I sent a check for the security deposit, service fee, and half of the rent per the agency’s requirements. And I thought, having signed paperwork and mailed checks and whatnot, that the thing was in the bag and that all I had to do was mail the other half of the rent in July, and show up in August with my bicycle and beach umbrella and cooler in tow. 

But no. Because today, the rental agent emailed me that she was terribly sorry, but she had to cancel my reservation, because the owner just called her and told her that the house shouldn’t have been available for the week that I rented it. This would seem, wouldn’t it, a classic YP not MP (your problem not my problem)? See previous paragraph’s discussion of signed leases and mailed checks. 

I emailed her again later, because the whole thing just bothered me. A full five days had elapsed since I had reserved the house and confirmed my reservation, and it seemed unlikely that it would take that long for the owner to notice that the house was listed in error. Something seemed off. And I was right, as it turns out. When questioned, the agent freely admitted that the owner decided that she wanted the house back for a family friend, and so they cancelled my perfectly legitimate reservation to indulge the owner’s whim. 

Yes, I understand private property. She owns the place, so she can do what she wants. EXCEPT that if you don’t want to rent your house out, then don’t list it as available for rent. You don’t get to have it both ways. You don’t get to capriciously cancel a valid reservation because you changed your mind. You can change your mind BEFORE the listing rents, but not after. 

I don’t at all understand why the agency is allowing her to do this. In their place, I would drop her as a client. I’d drop her like hot garbage. I saw her name on the lease (which I signed and mailed and which is now in their hands and could even be used against me if her friend damages the place during the week that I reserved it for), but I don’t remember it now. I DO remember the name of the real estate agency. They are the ones I blame for this. They are the ones that I will not do business with again. 

Do you know what’s the worst part of this whole thing? Even worse than the disappointment of losing the perfect house in the perfect location with no stairs so my mother could join us for the week? It’s having crossed a task off my list, brushing the dust of a completed chore off my hands with a flourish, and then finding that I have to start over again. I was done, and now I’m not. Checks were written, paperwork was signed, envelopes were dropped in the mailbox at the post office that I drove to myself, and all for jolly well naught. That is the worst part. 

No, it’s not really the worst part. The worst part is that I really wanted to go and now I’m sad that maybe we can’t. I know that this is a first-world problem. And that some people, maybe most people, don’t have the money or the time to take any vacation at all. And I feel bad about this. But right this minute, I feel worse about my own stupid situation. I’m petty that way. I’m petty, and I’m not letting it go, either. It’s just one more battle, one more City Hall to fight. And I’ll probably lose, but I do hope that I can make the real estate people remember that they were in a fight. 


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