Taylor found the number of a place in El Comercio and called it up. It was the number of real estate agents, a man and his two female cohorts, and they took her to see the place. It was Chelsea's last game of the season so I didn't go. The place that they took her to was too small, too expensive, and too far away, as I recall her saying. She said she didn't like it, so they said, Ok we've got another place for you to see. Then they took her to see the place we're living in right now.
Later in the day, when I met up with Taylor she told me about the place. She made arrangements to see it again in the late afternoon. We looked at a few other places in the meantime, including this huge, weird looking one that was super long and had an old-timey fireplace. So we look at the place we are in now again and I loved it too. It was perfect for us and for Chucki. We took a day to think about it and then called to say we wanted the place. So the real estate agents called the owner and arranged for us to meet and sign that Monday night.
We go there on Monday and find the real estate agents there, but the owner is not present. We wait and wait, and as I remember I was feeling really sick that night. We ask if they can call the owner and see what's going on. They call her and apparently she had sold the place, neglecting to tell the real estate agents
Needless to say we were quite upset about not getting the place. Taylor walked by the apartment later in the week and found the sign in the window still up. So Taylor called the real estate agents and asked what the deal was. Apparently the potential buyer was not quite ready to commit so he asked for more time and would know for sure by the next Monday. So we ended up having to look apartments that weekend as well. We found another place for the same price and it would've been a sufficient substitute. But we still wanted the other place.
So we called again on Monday, he did not call us, mind you. And he says he'll know on Tuesday. We get the impression that this guy is not a real estate agent, but instead plays in a professional foot-dragging league. It becomes apparent to us that, for whatever reason, this guy doesn't know what he's talking about. As I mentioned before, the sign in the apartment window was still up, and Taylor had taken down the number of the owner and called her. She said that the buyer had decided not to take the apartment, and she would rent it to us if we were still interested. We went to the apartment and sign the papers with her boyfriend, who is a lawyer.
That's all there is to it. Except. A week or two after we moved into the apartment, our apartment phone (it's a direct line to the guard) rings while we are watching a movie or something. Taylor answers but can't understand the guard so goes down to the front door. The phone rings again and it's Taylor and she tells me to come down right away. So I go down. The real estate agent is there and he brought his cadre, and they're yelling at Taylor. So I'm like "what's going on?" They tell me that the owner has failed to pay them their commission, and so they want us to pay it. I ask how much the commission is and Taylor tells me it's 400 dollars. I say no immediately, though I would have said no had they asked for 50 cents and a bucket of powdered Gatorade. Before I got there, apparently the guy had threatened that he was going to go all over town smearing us and say that we're bad people, and that when he doesn't get paid, bad thing happen. We'll he didn't even know my first name or either of our last names, so, good luck jackass. I say, look, I'm sorry you didn't get "your" money but that's not my problem, that's between you and the owner, so stop bothering us. More later.
-Ryan
