Now that we’re closed, I’ve been looking back on the experience, and I think if mortgage brokers would lead with, “I DON’T LIKE YOU, I DON’T TRUST YOU AND I DON’T WANT TO LEND YOU ANY MONEY,” rather than, “Nice credit score, champ, let’s get you housed,” then the buyer’s emotional graph would have fewer peaks and valleys.
I got in trouble for leaving out a pretty key detail of the story. My dear friend had just chastised me when I curmudgeonly remarked, “I would love one of those DROIDs, but I’m not paying that kind of money for a cockeyed phone.”
He dressed me down quickly for being the only person who managed to find himself earning a living making websites while remaining unclear these things are more than just phones. It was after that 15-minute beating I ran it by my wife.
For the record.
Um… I ordered a DROID X today.
This is crazy. I’ve never done anything like this before. I was at Verizon to get all my internet stuff switched to the new address and adjust our cell plan. My phone is on the fritz so I was running the numbers yet again to see if I could make the data package work.
I saved a little dough on my internet connection and found some unexpected coin for the phone from a happy gap in expenses due to the move, and, one chat with my dear, lovely, way-too-good-for-me wife later, I was back at the store ordering a phone they don’t even have in stock yet. Understand, I make fun of people for doing that. I’ve never had the newest anything. I’ve never cared, truly. But it all finally came together and made sense.
So, Im pretty excited to have a super future phone in a couple of weeks when it ships. Where do I learn the handshake?
Jesus on the Mainline
Yesterday was a blur, but I’m pretty sure I told my mortgage broker dealing with him was, “like playing cards with my sister’s kids.” How does anyone consent to doing this every five years?
When I would tell friends about my consternation with the house buying process, they would say, “Oh, relax, this is your first house, you are only going to be in it five years anyway.” Not if I can help it. If given my druthers, my kids will bury me in the back yard and earn their inheritance giving tours of the Trotter Estate & Tomb.
I will be paying for this pen for thirty years.
Fault Lines: Turkey East West
By George Georgiou
Drop me off here with my guitar and Bible and maybe come back in a month or never.
