For the purpose of context I suppose it would be appropriate--before getting too much further into the details--to provide you with a brief recollection of the memorable events that led to our acquisition of 991 39th St (I mean, it's not as though the property was just handed over to us no questions asked). As this was our first experience buying a property, we really didn't have a frame of reference against which to compare our buying experience but we were assured by individuals more weathered in this respect that it was an extremely difficult, if abnormal, one.
It started on a sunny day one weekend, Robin and I exhausted both mentally and physically from the extensive Tours de' Oakland that had accounted for the majority of our weekend free time and that were the direct result of our choice to be represented by the venerable 'Shep,' Father in Law and agent extrodinarre (also, there were particular economic advantages) instead of a local agent who would have done all of this leg work for us (in the latter scenario, our Tours de' Oakland would have consisted of visitings to properties right in line with our likings in terms of the price-location-size triumvirate, whereas, in the former one (the one we chose, that is) much of this touring consisted of driving up to a place--in some cases just to the edge of the neighborhood in which the potential property was located--and not even stopping, a quick apprasial of the area resulting in a verbal 'There's no way I could live here'. We parked across the street from the building--a three-unit job, white and rectangular--rising up from behind a brown fence and weeds standing a foot-and-a-half taller than it (the fence, not the building) in some places, the sidewalk planters bearing a proliferation of overgrown weed species and long dehydrated grass, and upon this initial apprasial I mentally categorized it along with all the other 'There's no way I could live here' properties (actually, I believe I said that out loud). We were there for a short amount of time before the agent who's name appeared on the sign met us, a swarthy middle-eastern woman by the name of ____. We made small talk while waiting for the other interested party to arrive and we got all the standard 'This is a great investment irrespective of the fact that it doesn't look like much now....' and 'This is really an up and coming neighborhood...' build-up-the-buyer type rhetoric and, in addition, learned some of the more significant details as to: 1) How she ended up in the Bay Area; 2) Her experience buying her first property; 3) How that worked out for her (in terms of monetary gain). After a 15 minute period or so, ____ came to the conclusion that the other party wasn't coming so we began our exploration of the units (all of which were occupied), beginning with the bottom 2 and then finishing with the upper. There was nothing that stood out about them, pretty standard for the most part, and the landscaping had been neglected to such a degree that where the lawn had once flourished was now a great-depression-caliber dust bowl replete with wizened tufts and loess-laced wind gusts (evidence the lawn's previous existence manifest in the form of visible, grid-like mesh that acts as a binding agent in sod). It was after the showing that we informed her that we were represented and this didn't scare her off (in our previous experiences this was when the agent would tell us to, basically, go fuck ourselves and that we were going about this process in the wrong way and that there were considerable benefits to working with somebody local, etc...). Amicable handshakes were followed by assuracnes of phone contact from our agent if we decided to move forward with the process.
To be continued...
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