Living in a Dream

It's officially official. We're moving. To San Diego. In 4-9 weeks, depending on which member of our household you ask (Himself will tell you 4 weeks, as that is when he needs to report to work; I would tell you 9, based mostly on an ill-contrived fantasy that I might actually have time at that point to find a decent place to live, pack and get my own job affairs in order).

That said, we've ramped up our housing search among the land of sand, sun and large-scale economic disasters.

I spent several years in the real estate industry - all of them devoted to marketing, messaging and customer satisfaction. I worked in the industry at the height of the craziness, and we still required our agents to call customers back within 24 hours - no exceptions. Even if they were crazy. Even if we were sold out. Even if there was no way that they could purchase a $500k condo on an $80k salary. No exceptions.

So it baffles me that we cannot get a SINGLE realtor to call us back. Not one. Granted, the commissions on a rental are much smaller than the commissions on a sale, but come on - it's 2009, the height of the worst economic downfall in 90 years, in a state where the foreclosure rate is among the nation's highest. Houses, even rental houses, aren't exactly flying off the shelf these days.

It's not just because we're out of town, because Himself couldn't get a single agent to call him back when he WAS in town. Not one. And yet, the same listings keep reappearing day after day - taunting us with their promise of fabulous living accommodations - if only you can doggedly pursue the rental agency, realtor or owner.

The market is SATURATED with houses - for sale and for rent. There are so many that the rental rates have decreased by an average of $300-$500/month over the last 12 months across the board.

Apparently, however, no one in real estate has received the memo.

Aggravation.