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So I had two estate agents round this morning. One measured every square inch, tapped the tiles, looked in the cupboards, checked the airing cupboard, and then sat me down for 20 minutes and talked about opportunities and problems and the issues I should bear in mind when looking for a new place to live. He told me the flat would sell quickly and make a lovely home for some first-time buyers.

The second guy didn’t bring a tape measure. Instead he had a shiny suit and greasy hair. He looked in the bedroom and then sat down at the table and told me that either it would be snapped up by a buy-to-let investor who would never love it, or it would be bought by a couple of first-timers who would love it for three years and then divorce.

The first guy’s recommended selling price was £5000 lower than the second. The first guy’s commission charge was £400 more than the second.

What a dilemma. Higher price, lower commission and a greasy slimeball, or lower price, higher commission and someone to whom I’m happy to trust my keys?

In the end I decided on the latter, and asked if we could compromise on the price half way between the two. He agreed.

Really, the only thing the greasy man had going for him - or the only thing on which he tried to sell himself - was the fact that he printed all his property details on photo paper and that ‘no other agent around here can claim to do that’.

So, the flat is now officially on the market. I’m quite sad about it, really, but it had to be done. I hope it sells quickly. Not because I’m eager to buy, but because I don’t want a long goodbye.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 2nd, 2006 at 9:20 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.