REAL ESTATE
Daily Telegraph - April 2007

LIKE many in Sydney, property is a hobby of mine. Just invite me to any dinner party and hear me talk about all the houses I've never bought, investment properties I don't own and amusing stories of auctions I never attended. I can't get enough!

As any astute non-investor in the Sydney property market knows, it's important to have an idea of where you don't stand. And so, when a chance recently presented itself to accompany a friend to inspect a neighbour's home, I jumped at it.

The house was an ugly two-bedroom 1970s duplex overlooking a supermarket carpark, which although in a posh suburb appeared very much like the ones I have seen elsewhere.

For this they were asking almost $700,000.

As soon as we entered, the real estate agent eyed us suspiciously. “Who's the buyer here?” she demanded.

As a big property non-buyer and frequent false inspector of house exhibitions, I was somewhat hurt.

“I am,” I said.

“Well, I'm just closing,” she retorted, brusquely. “The main bathroom is upstairs and the study is on the right.”

Upstairs I did what I always do at house inspections: went through the owner's bookcase and bathroom cabinet. There were a lot of psychology textbooks but the novels were junk. They were smart, but not as smart as they thought they were. I sensed a weakness.

Downstairs, I affected just the right note of uninterest. If I was going to not buy this house then I would have to play it cool.

“What do you think of the price?” she asked, in the tone of one who is suddenly unsure whether the man with the $10 haircut and ragged band T-shirt might not just be an eccentric millionaire. I drew breath, affecting the posture of one looking for a sham investment property or cosy imaginary city pad closer to the fake job I have as a director of pretend films.

“I think it's a bit cheeky,” I said, taking a gamble. “I think its closer to 610.”

Suddenly, I realised I had called her bluff. Her arms crossed and her eyes moved to the side, the little abacus of her mind was going click-clack.

“That's a bit low,” she said, eyes darting. “But there's always a possibility.” She grabbed her list. “Here, give me your name and number.”

I gave her a fake name and fake number. As one of Sydney's biggest fake buyers of fake real estate worth untold amounts of fake money I believe it important to do things right.

“We can come down a little bit,” she said. “I'll give the owners a ring tomorrow and let you know.”

I gave her false thanks, beamed a fake smile and, as she gathered her little signs and drove off in her BMW, wished very real harm upon her.

© Brendan Shanahan 2008