This weekend’s mission, also the reason I’m so late to publish, was simple: acquire an apartment. While boasting about the 9 appointments between Friday afternoon and Saturday morning I made while perched on Vince’s couch I came across a kindred spirit and jokingly suggested we team up. Five shitbox-on-a-stick tours later, I reconsidered the jokingly aspect of my remark, and serendipitously Ryan shared my disappointment in the square footage to price ratio offered near the office. During Saturday’s tour-de-Cupertino we entertained unfiltered questions, identified an intersection of domicile requirements, and toyed with the minds of several salesman.
Anyone who can stand 4 hours in a hot car listening to a 2 song playlist while fielding my insanity and not exit offended and rageful, might actually be roommate material. So we established a plan for Sunday, focused our search, and prepared to do it all again. I started the day solo, charmed the hell out of an agent, and secured a verbal offer on what would later become the backup pad. The next several showings only made the morning house seem better, and I was about ready to retire the Suzuki’s shitty soundtrack, make Patti a happy lady, and hit the pool. But Ryan wisely campaigned for diligence, so we refueled and met Fernando at an town house off El Camino. Jackpot! Not only did the unit feature ample closet space and grown up sized rooms, it had a layout that ensured seclusion on the nights he’d had enough of my neuroses. We made, one final stop at an open house to confirm the selection before returning to the office to mooch wifi and apply.
Half way thru the application I realized that I should probably confirm that Ryan’s foxy girlfriend had signed off on this because the last thing I need is to come back from a business trip to a domestic dispute. A casual, “oh yea, she met you at the christmas party, no worries,” cleared the road ahead, and it was on. There I was thinking how amazingly rational and practical everyone was being by supporting this combined pursuit of real estate, when I get the “girlfriend vetoed it” text. Naturally I immediately compile, what amounted to pretty strong argument as to how good of an idea this really was, and went to bed thinking, “no worries, I’ll just tell Ryan how to sell it tomorrow.” Apparently we do think alike because Monday morning’s cubicle headlines read like the inside of my mind, only in the live version sported the “I told you so!” score performed by the legendary and always animated Mr. Randazzo.
Oh well, back to square one.
So this week, identify ALL the decision makers early, and confirm often. If you, like me, let the deal progress too far without all relevant parties on board with the mapped route, the hole you find yourself in will be waaaay too deep to dig out of. Lesson learned; dicker with deciders or doom your deal.