REO War Stories in the Phoenix AZ Metro Area
People say to me all the time, "Eric, you seem to know ALL the best places for New Dehli style Indian food buffets." But that's not important right now.
People also say that I really need to get with the times and put fancy rims and speakers on my Fine Cadillac Automobile® - speakers that deliver SO much deep bass, they'll stop your heart and alter the orbit of our planet. But that's not important right now either.
What IS important today is the subject of bank-owned houses ("Real Estate Owned - REO" in the busines teminology) in the greater Phoenix, AZ metro area.
Specifically, THIS house: 
(Oh, that's a NICE house! Don't you think that's a nice house? I think it's a perfectly nice house. Contemporary. Cozy, yet open. And with easy access to shopping and freeways. But why am I boring you with traditional agent puffery? We already sold it back in 2010...)
REO Agents And Some Of What We Do
When a bank takes physical possession of a foreclosed home, they don't know what they're getting back - and that's where their trusted and competent REALTOR® comes in handy - I am their eyes and ears out there in the field. I find out the condition the house and the, ah, temperment & philosophical outlook of the occupants (if they're even still there) when the landing party beams down to make First Contact. And I report back my findings to my client.
Oh, I've seen crazy things in my day... things that'll change a man. We lost a LOT of good people on Hoth (far off gaze...)
I've also seen crazy stuff on TV and heard the horror stories from other agents about foreclosed homes that have been destroyed, and about finding dead things and dead people and garbage strewn about hither and yon... but in handling dozens and dozens of foreclosed homes in the Phoenix area, I, personally, never encountered much more than typical wear-and-tear, holes in walls, and missing fixtures.
"The Beer Can House"
This house looked fine from the outside. I determined that it was not occupied, given that electricity and water were off, and the buildup of dust and cobwebs by the front door. I could only see a tiny portion of the inside through a window blind, and there was apparently some furniture inside. As per procedure, I instructed our locksmith to change the locks, and went back out the next day to document any remaining personal property, so that the bank could post proper notices and give the previous owner an opportunity to claim his stuff, if he wanted it.
As it turns out, Momma was in town. It seemed like as good a time as any to show her what her kid does for a living... "What's this 'real estate" thing you do, dear? Your father thinks you should have a back-up plan. Maybe marry that nice lady doctor over on Campbell Street..." So Momma & my youngest son came with me as I stopped by "just to snap a couple of pictures for the bank, then we'll be on our way..."
Turned out, THIS house was going to be one for the record books...
Tens of thousands of beer cans and chewin' tabaccy' tins, all through the house...
Stacked on top of each other, 3 to 4 high...
On just about every flat surface of the house...
Even along the staircase railing!
And right on up the staircase!
And in the Master Bathroom...
And even on the bed in the Master Bedroom...
No doubt, looking at the evidence, including the utility shut-off notices, and grocery receipts in a couple of bags of groceries by the front door that looked like they had just been set there moments ago, no one had been inside this house for about 8 to 12 months. Boy, do these foreclosures drag out, eh?
The occupant appeared to be a musician. Guitars and amps and sheet music and cases were EVERYWHERE. And computers and interfaces for mixing boards and external hard drives that turned out to be chock full o' music.
One supposes that the occupant was a musician and part of a band... and liked to throw wild parties, like Van Halen or maybe even Twisted Sister.
We were amazed at how dirty this house... wasn't. Oh, sure, there was the smell from the cans & bottles, and several spills on the carpets. But one would have expected a house under this much... STUFF... to be filthier. But the cans were all empty. very little spoiled food. And I realized some time after we were all done marketing and selling this home, that there had never been any bugs or insects or flies buzzing around inside. How odd.
So momma sez, momma sez, "Real estate is THE DEVIL!"
OK, I can't really back that up. But on our way out and locking up, she asks, "Say, did anyone bother to check the garage?
No, we did not:
"Why, yes ma'am, yes that IS a fully-restored, collectable 1966 Fleetside pickup truck. Why do you ask?"
Well, to make a long story short(er), we posted the property with appropriate notices for the former owner/occupant to claim his stuff within 30 days, or the bank would dispose of it. The bank's lawyers mailed out their legal notices. And you bet your sweet bippy I knew exactly how I would have "disposed" of an "abandoned vehicle" (by the book, of course) if he had never replied.
But, the former owner (who wasn't the occupant, but who's stuff it all was, supposedly) made contact on the last possible day.
*sigh*
Poor guy apparently didn't know what his friend had done to the house. The look of shock on his face when I let him in was telling. He took his guitars and amps... and the truck... and we took care of clearing out the rest.
But it definitely makes a good story for the REO agent's war stories books!
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