property

One day, they told him, if he worked hard enough, they’d pay to have a fancy video made. Something slick and shiny, him in a perfect suit walking through an expensive (and expansive) property as some sort of jazzy soundtrack played. He hoped they’d stretch to a drone shot, something epic that announced him as the new major player on the property scene. He wasn’t allowed to be in the videos yet. He wasn’t even ‘selling’ property. He was in the lettings section. But he could visualise his goal. He’d be there soon. He knew how to win.

He hadn’t intended to get into property. He couldn’t tell you much about the houses he grew up in, other than they were too small and too damp for what his family needed. But it was those living arrangements that told him he had to make money. Money was the thing that would pull him out of that hole and set him up for a comfortable life.

Each morning the boss would ask where his coffee was. It wasn’t his job to get coffee every day, but he did, hoping it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Hoping they’d like him and all the small details he took care of. The boss would always remind him that he was the only one to impress. As only the boss held the keys to his future.

In the car before he’d meet customers he’d perform the ritual. Music loud. The same music he listened to in the gym. High energy. Performance was everything. You are a fighter. He’d tell himself. You are a fighter and you can earn this. Go earn this. He’d visualise what success looked like. Success was a home of his own. Success was a pool. Success was comfort and decadence and having the biggest tv and a fridge with an ice machine in and air conditioning. Air conditioning in every room. Success was there in front of him to be taken. Take it.

This is a home, he would say, practicing his sales pitch again in the mirror. This is a home I can see you living in. It’s cosy and compact but that’s to hold you closer together. It’s not drafty, it’s airy. It’s not dated, those are period features. Well loved. Well lived. Imagine yourself in this room. You sir, he would say, you would sit here at a desk and look out the window daydreaming whilst you work from home. And you miss, you’re here in the kitchen, leaning over the breakfast bar, having a glass of chardonnay as you relay the happenings of your day. This is a home. This could be your home.

Know your customer, wasn’t just a mantra it was a mission. They looked nice. He intended the mental use of the word nice as an insult. Nice meant easy pickings. Nice meant manipulatable. Nice meant agreeable and weak. Nice meant everything he wasn’t. They looked nice. Him and her, a respectable couple. He was a school teacher she was a lawyer. They wanted a place of their own one day, she said, he made a joke about his teacher’s salary. They weren’t going to inherit anything, she said, they came from a small town in the middle of the country. It’s not about inheriting, he told them, it’s just about hustling, at the right time, in the right way. They smiled. He thought they liked him. He thought they could see how he was trying to help them. How he was trying to share his mindset, his positivity.

This rental was perfect for them. It had a sun room, an old conservatory like structure. She said she liked painting - flowers from the garden, simple things. He said he liked to sit in an armchair and read. What did he read? Classic novels. The man said he felt a duty to read classic novels to expand his mind. But it’s not about reading, the agent said, it’s about action and doing stuff. Lots of people get too tied up in the thinking - it’s about the doing. You’ve got to put yourself out there and take risks and visualise your success and take it. They smiled. He thought they liked him. He thought they could see how he was trying to help them.

How much is it? They asked. Six fifty. A week? Yes. Six fifty. But that’s good for the area and the fact it’s two bedrooms. That’s good for the sun room and the little garden and six fifty is a steal really, that’s what it is. Six fifty is unbelievable in this area. There’s good schools close by. They know, they said, the man worked at one. It’s the perfect starter home for a family. They said they were hoping to have their own place by then. They said they wanted the security of owning a property before they had children. Still, he said, six fifty for all this - you’re laughing. They laughed together. He wanted them to like him.

They took the place. Of course they did. He’d sold it well to them. He told them there was competition. Lots of people wanted this place. Especially at six fifty. Six fifty was a steal. He told them that lots of people wanted this place and that they should put an offer in immediately. They did. They listened to him. He convinced them they should go slightly higher, as there was so much competition. So they put in for six sixty five. One off the devil’s number. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t even notice it until the boss brought it up. Good work, the boss had said. Good work. One step closer to success. One step closer to a swimming pool and air conditioning and enough space to breathe.

They signed the contracts quickly. Transferred money. Provided references. He didn’t check the references. He trusted them. They were nice people. He got a good vibe from them. He told the landlord they were a teacher and a lawyer and a nice young couple at that, they’d be good for the property, they’d look after it, make it a home. He told the landlord, there may be a few repairs they want initially, but they seem fairly low maintenance. They seemed nice.

The boss had congratulated him on a job well done, said he’d take him for a beer. Soon. Not tonight, he said, tonight he had other plans, but soon.

He was part of them, becoming part of them, the team. He was rising up, swimming above the surface. He was a fighter. He had visualised it. He was tasting success. Six sixty five a week. Success. He had fought for it. The landlord was happy. The tenants were happy. The boss was happy. And soon he would be happy. Soon he would have a house of his own, a pool, a fridge with an ice dispenser, and air conditioning in every room. Soon.

The tenants moved in. Signed for the keys in the morning had the truck with their stuff arrive in the afternoon.

Then the calls started.

They just noticed, they said, when they moved in, that the bathtub wasn’t actually plumbed in. They hadn’t noticed when they’d looked around because they’d just assumed that a house on the rental market would have had all its plumbing in working order. That’s just the thing they expected, they said. The bare minimum. He apologised, said he’d send a plumber around. It must have happened between the house being checked and photographed and today. Might have been a tradie who had been refurbishing the place who had unplumbed it. Sure, they said and thanked him for responding so quickly.

Later, they called to say they had just discovered the back door didn’t actually open and shut. But it had all just been refurbished, he said, that would have been checked. The refurbishment appears to be the problem, they said, it’s been painted over so many times in beige that the door has grown an inch beyond its original design. The landlord wanted it nice and fresh for you, he said back, freshly painted. The backdoor doesn’t work, they said. It doesn’t open, they said, it doesn’t close. It’s an old house he said and you’re only paying six sixty five a week. It’s not safe they said. Imagine if there was a fire, they said, and they couldn’t get the door open easily because it had been painted shut, could he imagine that? They asked. He had been told that tenants can sometimes get emotional over small things, can sometimes get fantastical and theatrical and he knew he could survive it. He was a fighter. He was a success. He visualised it. He knew he could achieve it.

The phone rang again. He didn’t want to answer it. It was five twenty. It was the end of the week, the time to reflect and to celebrate achievements, to recognise his success. Now was not the time to hear another issue, another complaint. But then again some people didn’t have the mindset, that was the problem. Some people just couldn’t think positively. They weren’t grateful for what they had. They couldn’t acknowledge that you had to form clear goals and visualise them and fight them. Some people were just complainers.

He thought they would have been good people, a teacher and a lawyer. He thought they would have known about success. He thought they would have known about having a positive mindset. He didn’t think they’d be negative people. He didn’t think they would stand in the way of his dream.

A house with a pool.

A fridge with an ice machine.

A house with air conditioning in every room.

He drove around to see them. He thought that would be a nice thing to do, show initiative, take hold of the matter. He could welcome them in with superb customer service. He could teach them positivity. He could teach them mindset. He could show them what a great house it was that he had brought them into. He had put the keys in their hand. He had unlocked the next chapter of their life.

The doorbell wasn’t working. So he knocked, a friendly rhythm. A rhythm that would put them at ease. He knocked.

The man looked surprised to see him, the teacher. They exchanged pleasantries. He said how he had just popped over to see if there were any other issues, so he could get them into the system as quickly as possible, get them sorted. The man looked confused, he told him it was after six on a Friday evening and they were just exhausted from the day of a move. He understood. He knew. But he said the best way to approach these things was just to get them done.

Reluctantly the man let him in. He walked him slowly through each room of the house. The floorboards were scratched here. Cosmetic, no problem. The paint was too thick on this window or door frame. Would they rather it wasn’t freshly painted? The water pressure was too low. Old pipes, not much you can do about it. There was mould creeping through in the bedroom, above the window, it looked like it had been painted over but it was creeping through. He told the man he had never heard of any mould being in this house, the last tenant was here for three years and never complained about anything of the sort.

She was behind them in the doorway. Listening to their conversation. He was annoyed she hadn’t introduced herself. The first thing you should always do is introduce yourself. Confidence. Here I am. At least that’s what he thought. That was his mindset.

She said that was definitely black mould. And actually the fact it was let in this condition contravened some point in the law or the paperwork or some statute. Look, he said, you’re living in this city at this time - this is a good deal at six sixty five a week. You want to see the other rentals around here. You want to see the bad deals they’re getting. This is a nice house. This can be your home. You can make this your home.

But what about the mould? She said.

We’ll get it fixed, he said, soon as we can.

Fixed or painted over? She asked.

Isn’t that the same thing? He said. They use special paint.

She laughed at him.

The man, the teacher, he suggested that maybe they should look to see if there is a leak in the roof above where the mould is coming from? Rather than just painting over the issue they should try and understand what’s causing it?

It’s just an old house. He said. It’s just an old house with beautiful classic architecture, high ceilings, a sun room, a place you can make your home. You take these compromises with old houses because of all the benefits they offer. If you don’t want these issues you go live in a little white box apartment somewhere. The landlord has just invested a lot of money in tidying this place up to make it perfect for you and she won’t appreciate how ungrateful you’re being.

The man asked when they could expect all these issues to be fixed.

He said, you just have to change your mindset. It’s just about being positive and realistic. You’ve got a great deal. Six sixty five a week, in this neighbourhood, for all this space.

They laughed at him. They laughed in his face.

He reminded himself of his dream. His success.

He told them he’d see what he could do. He’d call the landlord next week. He said he’d call the landlord next week. Truth be told the landlord wasn’t that nice to call up. The landlord didn’t want to be bothered. The landlord didn’t even live in the state. The landlord was a corporation on paper. The landlord didn’t like to spend money and fix things. The landlord just wanted him to have a positive attitude and make it happen.

He sat in his car for a few moments before driving off. Visualising his success. Letting his body relax, his mind regain clarity. A pool, a fridge with an ice machine, and air conditioning in every room. Visualise it.

He never had these problem when he worked in sales at the gym.