Selling real estate may seem like glamorous work, and sometimes it is. But hefty commissions for a few hours of effort are generally the stuff of dreams.
Far more common among agents, appraisers and inspectors are the kinds of rude surprises that could qualify as horror stories.
Denver’s real estate professionals may get more than their share for a number of reasons. Colorado’s high foreclosure rate has led many owners to abandon their homes.
As a western hub of the narcotics trade, Denver has more than its share of home-based drug labs. Even our famous love of pets can cause consternation.
When starting his career as a Re/Max agent in Littleton, Vern Evans was warned about the dog at a property he was arranging to preview. When he arrived, Evans was relieved to see a dog tied to a tree in the backyard.
But once inside, he heard a low growl and found two German shepherds baring their teeth behind him. Taking no chances, he leapt onto an island countertop in the kitchen and edged his way over to a phone on the wall.
Evans called the out-of-town owners, who suggested a solution. Following their advice, he made his way across the countertop and retrieved some doggy treats from a kitchen cabinet. He tossed the food on the floor and made a hasty exit past the distracted animals.
He later gave up showing homes and became a real estate lawyer.
Real estate broker J.W. Hunt of Golden invested in a small cabin in 1990 and leased it to a woman with two high-school-age daughters. Before long, she stopped paying the rent. After several months without payment, Hunt arrived at the cabin to serve paperwork for an eviction.
“This huge guy who I assume was her boyfriend met me at the door with a shotgun,” he said. The woman convinced the man to put down the gun and let Hunt come inside.
“There was cat (feces) everywhere,” he recalls. “It was even piled up on the nightstand between two beds where the girls slept.”
Outside, a scrawny dog had defecated in a circular pattern covering every square inch of the range of its short leash. More heartbreaking was a letter to their landlord from one of the teenagers. “Mr. Hunt, we’re so sorry for this,” it said. “You’ve been so kind to us.”
Dead bodies
Many experienced agents also have accounts of coming across bodies. “Are they sleeping, unconscious or dead?” said Dick Yamaguchi, an agent in Golden. “You don’t know.”
National Public Radio recently reported on an unnamed Wisconsin broker who, accompanied by clients, found the seller dead in bed. The story’s punchline included a real estate maxim: “When you’re showing a house, the current owner shouldn’t be around.”
That’s good advice, says Jack Farrar, public-relations manager of Denver-based Re/Max International. But beyond that, there is no universal protocol for agents who encounter a body. Even when a murder has been committed in a home, disclosure laws don’t require the seller to say so.
“Use some common sense,” Farrar advises. Discontinue the showing, of course, and notify police when it’s appropriate.
Inspection time
Inspectors have occasion to see what usually goes unseen in single-
family homes. Dave Light of Wheat Ridge inspects 50 to 60 foreclosed homes every month, working for a contractor who serves the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.
“I’ve seen wall-to-wall filth, rotting food, ground-in dirt and motor oil soaked into the carpet,” he said. “The worst was a place near Sixth and Sheridan. Every window was broken. Every wall had damage, like someone had put a fist through it.”
Homes in suburban Parker and Douglas County have been nearly as bad. Homeowners resentful of foreclosure are known to deliberately destroy their property, he acknowledged.
The squatter
Lynn Wunsch, a broker with Cherry Creek GMAC Real Estate, remembers showing a duplex in southeast Denver. As she and her client descended the basement stairs, “We heard a guy say, ‘I’m coming out!'” They caught a glimpse of a man barely dressed dashing out a back door.
The basement was littered with food containers, soda cans and whiskey bottles. Blankets and dirty clothes covered the carpet. The man had been squatting inside the property for some time.
Broker Scot Kersgaard entered a rented home near Central City without noticing a wasp nest above the front door. He poked around the property and, as is customary, left his business card behind. As he struggled with the door lock upon leaving, wasps circled above.
“I got stung by one,” Kersgaard said. “Then I was deluged.”
He ran to his car without completing the lockup. An angry tenant called later with an obscenity-laced message, threatening to sue.
On a cold day in December 2005, broker Bill Rickman of Denver was pleased to hear that a prospective buyer would be viewing an Arvada home he had listed. But while shopping with his wife, he got a call from the buyers’ agent.
“He wanted to know how to turn off the water,” Rickman said. A burst pipe was flooding the basement, causing damage that cost the owner $8,000. “There were a couple of inches of water on the floor, the ceiling had collapsed and the carpet was ruined.”
“Other than that, how did they like the house?” Rickman asked the buyers’ agent. They liked it enough to purchase the property for nearly the full asking price.
