hija unica
Being an only child has its perks. Your parents are more likely to be able to help you with a downpayment on a house, for example. But it also comes with a mountain of difficulties, which any of you who have met (or, God forbid, dated) an only child may be familiar with: we have trouble sharing, and we can be a little sensitive (from not being teased into toughness), and we’re not always convinced that anyone else actually exists at all.And, most relevant here, we’re not the best advocates for ourselves. Because we never had to compete with other, possibly cuter, children for time or attention or the bigger half of the cookie. And as adults, we continue to assume that everyone is looking out for us. Though eight years in New York disavowed me of my belief that each stranger on the street has my best interest in mind, I still tend to hope for it in my heart of hearts. When people say I love you or Let me know if I can help or Trust me, I generally take them at their word. And when I say these things I mean them – and am constantly frustrated at how rarely they are believed.
Overall I think this works in my favor. It’s made dating a little messy with unrealistic expectations, but I have friends I’d sell my soul for and I do mighty good with strangers, because with new people you often get what you look for. The one place it all falls apart is in relationships that are linked to financial transactions. Getting my car fixed, finding a new laptop – these things fill me with dread because I know that salespeople are telling me things in order to get something for themselves. And I don’t resent them for that – I understand that it’s their job. But it’s not what I’m used to so it’s not intuitive to navigate. I can’t help thinking Why are you making me negotiate? Why can’t we be in this together?
In this regard buying a house has been a bit… let’s go with the diplomatic word challenging. Because everyone makes more money if I spend more money, and if I spend it soon. Not just the sellers, but also “my” agent and “my” lender – both of whom are cool and kickass women whom I think I’d like quite a lot in any other setting. But this process is designed so that trusting them feels naïve.
Which was all ok, more or less, until last night, when my lender called to tell me that the documents I’ll be signing this afternoon would not be available in advance for me to read. I had requested them a week ago and she said she could get them to me the day before the signing. But they came in late and then there were scanning problems or blah blah whatever and she’s really sorry but they’re just what we talked about and that’s it. Don’t worry, she said, because the escrow agent will explain them all as I sign them.
And I fucking hate this. Because I have learned, as an adult, that this friendly woman who has been nothing but helpful and kind on the phone for weeks is maybe not actually doing what’s best for me. But the only child part of me just held the receiver thinking Ok, I’m sure she tried really hard to get me these documents, and there’s no reason to suspect they’re going to say anything different than what we agreed.
Which, to be honest, doesn’t help anyone. Even if it’s true, it’s not my role in this. My role is to take a deep breath and say, Thanks for trying so hard to get them to me today. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, since we were really hoping to sign tomorrow. But let’s just go ahead and reschedule the signing.
Of course that’s not what I said. I don’t know exactly what I said because I was so flustered and unsure of what to trust, but it more closely resembled No Problem.
And then about nine hours later I got the right words together. But nine hours later was too late for her to be able to amp things up and pull through. That’s the whole advantage of being a good advocate for yourself: you give people a chance to get you what you need instead of taking what they first offer while resenting and judging them. Not being an advocate for yourself initially feels more generous, but it’s not.
Late is better than never, though, and it’s how I’m learning. So this morning I picked up the phone and called my lender and told her I wasn’t comfortable signing documents I hadn’t read. And then I called my agent and rescheduled. My appointment is tomorrow morning. The world continues to turn.
posted by tortaluga @ 10:31 AM
3 Comments:
Good. You did the right thing. Especially with everything house-mess-wise going on this country right now, you need to know what you're signing. Period. Especially when it's a house, and not just a laptop.
I'm a lot like you when it comes to trusting people just because that's the way the world should work, even though it doesn't.
If I told you our friendship was worth my soul, would you be offended at such a low appraisal?
Agree with the previous comment 1,000,000%. Good for you. Don't let 'em screw you over--it's a business. I found some severe errors in my document when selling the house that had significant legal implications if things had gone south. Apparently they'd persisted in the boilerplate version for years before 'cause--surprise--no one bothered to read the shit ahead of time. They also got plenty of dates wrong. And you know, it's odd how the errors never seem to fall in your favor. Must be some incredible friggin coincidence. So well done and good luck!
agree (5,987,476)
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