Today, I've been showing commercial property. Interesting. The customers are from California, looking for a spot to open a Harley shop. It has to be on Rt 66, and close to the interstate. They're "suits", indistinguishable from each other and their ilk.
The first question they ask me is "You're not from here, are you"? This is because I'm a "suit", myself, today. Dressed to impress. Power Broker. The appearance of money and success. They can't imagine I'm a "local", because they've lumped us all together as "hicks".
I've spent 5 hours with these guys, looking at this property, that property, weighing the pro's and con's. Lunch, viability discussions, and finally down to the crunch.
They want financing. Can put up their California property as collateral. Cool!
I take down the essentials and call my Mortgage Broker while the "suits"have gone out to their car to get a check for earnest money.
They ome back in. They've misplaced the company credit card, can I loan them $100 to run down to the gas station? Baaaaaaaad vibes!
The phone rings and the Mortgage Broker tells me "These people couldn't finance a used car. They're in foreclosure on the California property. Bankruptcy looms just 6 months ago".
"Sorry", I tell the "suits", "I don't have $100 cash on me. Oh, and I have an appointment scheduled. I've got to go. Give me a call if you get your financing in place."