Several years ago now, The Prospect on Prospect condo model unit sat in an on-site trailer. It had a dodgy front door, and if you weren’t careful it would spring closed and lock behind you as you went out. R.M. had once had to come to the rescue of an embarrassed and locked out member of the sales team, so when he was scheduled for open house there he always took care to put a small wedge in the door frame, just in case.
It had already been a busy afternoon. Interest in this project was high, though lots of people were simply out tire-kicking, curious as to what was going on there. A neighbor from across the street stopped in to register complaints about this new building blocking his view.
“I’ve lived on the west side of the street for a long time and always had a view of the lake from my front room. This development will ruin it forever.” said the dark-haired, soft-spoken man. This was very understandable. R.M. answered, “It must be hard to accept such a change. But there was a building here before—that also must have done the same thing?”
“Yes, but this new one will be so much taller, so much closer to the street.” continued the man.
“If its any comfort to you, this is not the only neighborhood where new development is happening. Lots of people are having to get used to idea that the city is changing. Even the people who will buy a condo here might eventually lose some of their views as well, if and when more development comes. And you will be living in a dynamic, improving area, so that should bring some benefits.” He said this knowing that it would not persuade, shook the man’s hand and gave him his business card.
“If you would like to talk about this some more, please call me.” he invited. As he said this, another couple entered the trailer. To his surprise, the man looked up and said, “Thank you, perhaps you could stop by for tea and see for yourself from my window?” and he graciously withdrew.
R.M. turned to welcome the new arrivals, asking them to sign the open house register. This was a standard procedure at open house, especially for projects like this one. Introducing himself he began, “It used to be that visitors would put down a street address and phone number. Then along came the Do Not Call registry. After that, we weren’t allowed to call those numbers.” They nodded in agreement.
“Those calls at suppertime were pretty annoying.” the man said.
“Up ’til recently, it’s been the way developers could let potential customers know about construction updates. Now we’ve added a bailout – your signing this register gives us permission to call you. But we won’t at suppertime.” R.M. added, as they jotted down their names and number. “If you add an e-mail address, we can contact you that way as well.”
“So Mr. James, I see that you’re from the area. Are you familiar with the condo market in town?”
“I’m retired now, ready to pay someone else to do the work around the house. Always done everything for ourselves, but lately my back’s been playing me up.” Mr. James went on to describe how, although they had always until recently managed hearth and home quite well, his back was increasingly sore and all the bending and lifting was becoming a strain. With their own kids moved away, he tried at first to hire some neighborhood kids, then found he was spending a lot of time showing them how to do this or that. Not that he minded—he liked kids—but by the time he had one trained to his satisfaction, the kid usually had taken another part-time job or had practice after school or both, and he had to start all over again with someone new. A sympathetic listener, R.M. took this all in. It was an oft-heard tale in the condo business.
“We tried a handy-man, once a week Easter to Thanksgiving, to do odd jobs in the yard, sometimes inside. Boy, there sure are a lot of hacks out there,” he grumbled, “painful to watch.” The alternative idea of hiring a bunch of “experts”, each to a do different thing—one for repairs, one for the lawn, one for the yard, and so on, was exhausting.
“So we figured if we’re ever going to sell the place we should before it falls apart.”
“It’s usually true that properties in best condition get the best offers,” agreed R.M. “especially when they “sparkle”, making inverted commas in the air.
“Seeing as how we put so much work into it over the years we don’t want it to lose value just when we’re thinking of selling.”
“So now you’re looking into what’s available in a condo?”
“Here on the lake, yes. We aren’t interested at all in any places further downtown—too much commotion for us, and we don’t go out so much anyway. Maybe something with a view, something quieter. Someplace where I can relax, watch somebody else work.” he grinned.
As R.M. “walked” them through the project, The Prospect seemed a good fit for them both. They could buy a smaller unit facing mainly west—one bedroom plus a den would be adequate because the rooms were of a comfortable size. They reserved a fifth floor unit high enough up for a view but low enough to still be able to enjoy sitting out on the balcony. It got very windy on upper floors, they had read. The common amenities attracted them both and would allow them to spread out a bit from their unit. They were lap swimmers, and a daily stint in the whirlpool would be a tonic for his back. They might not use the exercise machines as much as some, but come winter weather it would be something different to try, in moderation. The outdoor terrace was open to family and friends. They could rent the guest suite if someone came to town. A handsome foyer complete with concierge services was planned and there was the underground heated garage to complete the picture. It wasn’t cheap, but poor service had already cost them more. Choosing a smaller unit put them at the lower end of the monthly fees, calculated on a square foot basis. If they actually used the amenities there, it would prove to be good value.
So they watched the pace of construction meanwhile setting about the tedious work of editing their posessions, having in their mind’s eye a sense of the new space that was soon to hold their life. They chose the final finishes: the granite for the countertops, the grout color in the bathrooms, all without displaying any of the animosity they observed between other couples in the showroom during this process. The “For Sale” sign went up in their yard, and three months later the “Sold” sign.