A lot of furtive whisperings and murmurings. "Are you going to tell him?" anf "Yes, I'll tell him about it."
Already, on the big event evening, the main event of the entire transaction, everything was about to unravel.
"This is going to be what we call a dry run closing", buyer realtor said.
"I don't like the sound of that," Biff mumbled silently to himself.
Seller realtor chimed in: "The previous owner, since he did make some house payments, needs to sign off on the deed. He hasn't UPS'd it to us yet."
Later Biff, who was trying to buy the bungalow, heard that the previous owner guy was at this moment on a lunch break, but he didn't know where to find a notary. You must understand sufficiently that Biff (but how would you know if you weren't specifically told?) had all his ducks in a row, meaning he was organized, complete, and punctual.
These professionals were in chaos, stacks of paper, and ears made to channel randomly flowing rivers of news, money, and news about money.
Upon hearing that the previous owner, as explained stiffly by the seller realtor, was unsure where to hurry up and find a notary, the buyer's agent exclaimed with a matriarchal majesty: "You can find notaries everywhere" and proceeded to declare examples substantiating her theory.
The seller's real estate agent reluctantly replied, "Well, I guess I could call him back and help him decided where to go to find a notary..." Real enthusiastic like. A poor show. Inappropriate response amongst sales and financing professionals and the consumer-client. Totally unacceptable.
Biff exploded.
"This guy is out there, if you know what I mean. Do I have any legal recourse if he balks and stalls on signing the deed and sending it to us? A real piece of work, this guy. And he's a liar."
Seller agent, tepidly: "I don't think he's a liar. What lies has he told?"
Biff: "First he claims the UPS package, with the deed in it, got to him late because there was no apartment number on it. Then he claims he has an incentive payment due to him, but the sale had to occur within 90 days, and the neighbor across has a very different version of the story of his leaving town in a hurry to go to Florida. Lots of details don't add up, so I figure we got ourselves a liar here."
Deed transaction professional, holding up a sheet of paper: "I put the apartment number on the UPS package. See?"
When Biff saw that the address was indeed on the packing slip, but far removed, for some idiot reason, from the rest of the address, so far it would easily not be noticed, he was done.
But then he also heard that the blood-stained mattress lying maliciously in the livingroom appeared there months after the previous owner had moved out. So Biff had been correct: it was a mattress that had been brought in by a drug addict who had a key or busted in somehow. Creepy.
"That's it," Biff bellowed, rising up out of the soft leather seat.
"There's nothing more I can do. I've signed everything. Now we have to wait for him to sign the deed, notarize it, fax us a copy, and UPS the original. I'm out of here. I've got other things to do, and I may have to cancel the insurance, movers, new furniture deliveries, changing the locks, appliance installations, internet broadband connection, and everything. I'm not paying a penny if all new papers have to be drawn up at the bank, with new interest rates calculated. This is ridiculous."
Biff stormed out of the meeting, bought a new pair of tennis shoes, and had a nice dinner in his favorite restaurant.
