Thursday, May 08, 2008
Cowardice in the face of the enemy
Oh the shame! My loved one and I cowering in the bedroom, under siege, afraid to answer the door and face the consequences of our hastily fired off e-mail. The buzzer sounds again, long and insistent - clearly our visitors are not going to give up easily. I jump up in panic as I realise that if another resident lets them through the gate we could be forced to face our enemy through our open glass-panelled door. I scuttle through the apartment, secure the locks and I’m back cowering safely in the bedroom.
No, the two people outside are not mafia heavies demanding that we cough up our unpaid debts, neighbours complaining about late night revelry, or even Mormons looking for converts. They’re just a couple of innocent-looking estate agents who want to sell our apartment.
And yes, we asked them to. But we didn’t know when we walked through their office doors that we were entering shark-infested waters and that once we were in the jaws of these two mighty creatures, they weren’t likely to spit us out until they’d given us a good chewing over and tasted blood.
“We haven’t definitely decided” we told them. “We don’t want to sell until we’ve got somewhere else lined up” we told them. “We’d just like you to have a look and tell us what you think” we told them. They nodded and smiled and came a day earlier than agreed.
If the French speak any English they like to prove that it’s better than your French, so a little tug-of-tongue bi-lingual battle ensues until one or other concedes defeat. This time however, the only thing our two French estate agents were interested in proving was that they could strike a deal without the need for anything except our signature.
A relentless barrage of promises and assurances gushed forth. If one of them showed signs of flagging, the other took up the cause, airily brushing aside any concerns we raised. But, we would have to sign up with them now (memories of that scene in The Godfather, when it's pointed out that either his brains or his signature will be on the piece of paper spring to mind), give them exclusivity and put the apartment up for sale immediately - wait another month and we’d be too late! On and on until resistance became useless and we were buried under the avalanche of words.
When we’d recovered from the shock and marvelled at the stupidity of some salespeople, but not wanting to get into another conversation with them, that evening we sent a very polite thanks but no thanks e-mail. So why are they outside the gate a few hours later ready to do battle again? If words haven’t worked, is it now to be sticks and stones?
No, the two people outside are not mafia heavies demanding that we cough up our unpaid debts, neighbours complaining about late night revelry, or even Mormons looking for converts. They’re just a couple of innocent-looking estate agents who want to sell our apartment.
And yes, we asked them to. But we didn’t know when we walked through their office doors that we were entering shark-infested waters and that once we were in the jaws of these two mighty creatures, they weren’t likely to spit us out until they’d given us a good chewing over and tasted blood.
“We haven’t definitely decided” we told them. “We don’t want to sell until we’ve got somewhere else lined up” we told them. “We’d just like you to have a look and tell us what you think” we told them. They nodded and smiled and came a day earlier than agreed.
If the French speak any English they like to prove that it’s better than your French, so a little tug-of-tongue bi-lingual battle ensues until one or other concedes defeat. This time however, the only thing our two French estate agents were interested in proving was that they could strike a deal without the need for anything except our signature.
A relentless barrage of promises and assurances gushed forth. If one of them showed signs of flagging, the other took up the cause, airily brushing aside any concerns we raised. But, we would have to sign up with them now (memories of that scene in The Godfather, when it's pointed out that either his brains or his signature will be on the piece of paper spring to mind), give them exclusivity and put the apartment up for sale immediately - wait another month and we’d be too late! On and on until resistance became useless and we were buried under the avalanche of words.
When we’d recovered from the shock and marvelled at the stupidity of some salespeople, but not wanting to get into another conversation with them, that evening we sent a very polite thanks but no thanks e-mail. So why are they outside the gate a few hours later ready to do battle again? If words haven’t worked, is it now to be sticks and stones?
