The Open House Blues, and Credit Where Credit is (Not) Due

Dear Philip:

My husband and I put our house on the market a few months ago. This weekend our realtor held an open house, and our friend went to see the turnout.  I don’t like being there when people look at my house, because it’s too upsetting.

What our friend reported back to me was even more upsetting.  Apparently a few couples brought little children, who were allowed to run around unsupervised, and people seemed to use every bathroom in the house, including the one in our bedroom.  When I came home, there was one hand towel in the sink, and another one thrown on the floor next to our laundry hamper.  I also found little handprints all over an expensive glass sculpture in our living room.

We have nice things in our house, and are shocked that people felt free to treat it the way that they did.  Should I insist that either my husband or I be there every time someone comes to see it?

Trying to Move On

Dear Trying,

Two words: six percent.

Six percent, right?  Isn’t that what the folks involved in selling your house expect to be paid for their efforts?  It sounds like you have a lovely home, and six percent of a lovely home isn’t chicken scratch.  So start expecting something in return.

Yes, parents who let their kids treat your open house like a playground are jerks.  But you don’t have a contract with them: you have a contract with professionals who are supposed to be looking out for your interests, including the care and well-being of the major asset you’ve agreed to let them represent. 

I read your email to a friend who’s a realtor in another town.  Her response was…unprintable in a family newspaper.  She wasn’t aggravated with you, Trying; she was furious with the person showing your house, and in the process giving her profession a bad name. 

Here’s the gist of what she said:  Any realtor worth their commission will prep your home before an open house.  That prep ought to include basic stuff like putting paper napkins in a bathroom designated for use by anyone looking at the house.  Your realtor also ought to have a co-worker on hand, so that one person is always available to answer questions while another keeps circulating through the house, to (for instance) keep an eye on the kiddies and the artwork…and to steer folks to that designated, paper napkin-stocked bathroom.  Finally, that realtor should be going through the house at the end of the day, turning off lights and putting things right.  As in, you shouldn’t be the one discovering hand towels dropped on the floor.

Check the length of the agreement you’ve signed with your realtor.  If it’s a three-month deal, you might start looking around for a company that believes that a six percent commission should entitle you to one hundred percent professionalism. 

Here’s to a quick close,

Philip

Dear Philip:

My ex-boyfriend and I started a business, and he still holds a company credit card, even though he is no longer with the company.  The card is tied to my bank account, and though so far he has always paid it, he’s pressuring me to request a higher credit limit, and –

Dear Miss:

There are times when I don’t even need to get to the end of the email.  This is one of them.  Cancel his card.  Tell him your accountant – in today’s performance, the role of The Accountant will be played by Philip – freaked out that you’d even let an employee keep a company card once he’d left the business.  Tell him that his use of the card opens you up to all kinds of potential liability, and that such use might constitute tax fraud.

Okay, so I don’t actually know if any of that is true, but I do know this: Your credit rating is vitally important, and risking it so as not to hurt the feelings of an ex is foolish.  Admirable, but foolish.  If you need to spare his feelings, tell him any fib you want…but cancel that card.

Hoping that settles the (credit) score,

Philip

To Split, or Not to Split? The ABCs of Paying the Check

Dear Philip:

My friend Eve is financially well off, but never picks up the check when we go out.  She doesn’t offer, and when she’s asked, she insists on paying only her share, which she calculates ruthlessly. She has no problem letting me or anyone else pay for her, though.

Ironically, Eve brags about her family’s money and extensive art collection, and yet is a total cheapskate.  This weekend, she let me and a few of my friends buy rounds, but when it was her turn, she handed the bartender enough money for her own drink, and then left.  Out of embarrassment, I picked up the rest of what should have been her tab, and made excuses for her.

How do I get Eve to see how awful this makes her look?  

Feeling Taken Advantage Of

Dear Feeling,

Why on earth do you assume Eve cares how she looks?

It’s a rookie mistake, Feeling: because you believe in fairness and sharing and the other

basic tenants of conducting a friendship that sometimes involves pulling out your wallet, you take for granted that those beliefs are shared by the folks you call friends.

Eve is indeed a cheapskate, but she’s also – and this is a technical term – an entitled jerk.  If you’re correct, and she’s indeed well off (and happy to brag about it), then there’s no excuse for either stiffing you or embarrassing you in front of your friends.  Or dissing you, which is really what she’s doing.

Friendship is largely about mutual respect: You don’t speak ill of your friend, you don’t show up at 7:30 when your friend has been standing outside the movie theater since 7:00, and you don’t expect your friend to pay for you all the time.  It’s not rocket science.  It’s also not difficult to spot when someone takes your friendship – and you – for granted.

At the very least, stop including Eve when you go out with others, and if she notices and asks why, explain very calmly that you were embarrassed that she let your friends pay for her, but didn’t reciprocate.  Directness can work wonders.  If you can’t bring yourself to be direct, then you really need to examine whether you consider this woman a friend, or someone who’s mildly entertaining to hang around with…until the check comes.  If she’s the former, the relationship is worth a difficult conversation or two.  Otherwise, cut her loose: it’ll give you more time to nurture actual friendships.

Since you raise this specific issue, though, let’s spend a moment going over bill-splitting etiquette.  Because it’s an area I’m asked about a great deal, I humbly offer the PVM ABCs of haggling over the check.

A is for alcohol, as in, if you’ve had a few drinks and your companion hasn’t, offer to pay more than half of the check.  Especially when there’s wine involved.  I’m usually on the other end of that equation, and I can’t tell you how annoying it is when someone orders an expensive bottle and doesn’t take into account the price inequity between a 1982 Lafite-Rothschild and a 2012 Diet Coke.  I still usually insist on splitting the bill down the middle, but a fella likes to be shown common courtesy, you know?

B is for blood…as in relatives.  The generational picking-up-of-tabs is different in every family.  We grow up with our parents paying for everything, and some parents insist on doing that long into our own adulthoods.  It’s okay to offer in such situations, but it’s not okay to insist: if your mother and father take paying as a point of pride, let them.  And then be effusive in your gratitude.  I’ve managed about a 5% success rate in paying for my father’s meals when we’re out, and if you know my father, you’ll be impressed by that.

C is for calculators.  Don’t use them, and don’t hang out with people who do.  Nothing screams cheapskate like someone trying to figure out the exact difference in price between your pasta and their chicken.  Rounding is your friend…

…and clearly, Eve is not.  Dump her, and take an advice columnist out for a drink, instead.

First round’s on me!

       Philip