He really did look like Popeye. When he got out of the truck he walked like Popeye and when he spoke, it was with the rasp of a swarthy man...3 packs a day I would guess. He was nice enough. As we looked at my rental and he told me what he was looking for, two things became crystal clear. First, he had more people per square foot than I would allow in my little rental. And second, I was looking at a real war hero. Nothing from this century. He had spent nearly three years in Vietnam and had his 100% disabled VA pension to prove it.
I asked him why he did not consider buying a home (come on I am a realtor). He scratched his head, and just when I thought I would hear the famous Popeye "kuk, kuk, kuk, kuk" he simply said that he did not think he could afford to buy a home.
I put him in touch with my lender of choice, who called me immediately and said, "does this guy remind you of anybody?" At which point all I could say was "I yam what I yam." After we stopped laughing, wiping away tears and having a grand time, Lewis said, "this guy is golden. He will even have his VA funding fee waived because of his disability rating."
So house hunting we went. It took us to the second home to find THE HOME. He loved it and thought hi wife, daughter, and her kids would love it as well. It was a repo, we offered their list price with a request for repairs. The other agent called and said, "It's done when can we close?" I relayed that information to Mr. C and everything got really quiet...almost too quiet. At which point he simply said, 'I can never thank you enough for what you have done for me and my family." I got a little glassy eyed and told him I would call when more was needed.
All the usual stuff happened and went as planned and it was closing day. I met both Mr. and Ms. C at the attorney's office. We went in and were by ourselves (noone from the seller's side showed). Just us and Lewis. They laughed and we signed papers, he told stories of the 'Nam and amazing shots he had made when he wore a younger man's clothes. We laughed and signed more papers and when the attorney came back in it was payday. Everyone got paid. More especially, Mr. and Mrs. C got all their earnest money back but $38.09.
The moral of this story is, eat your spinach, serve your country and your fellow man, and good things do happen to you. Just ask Popeye, I mean Mr. C. When we left the attorney's office I thought to myself, "I had a great day, I got paid for doing what I love, and I now have a friend who is truly a Great American."
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