I read the weekly Financial Times column, The Secret Agent written by one of London’s top estate agencies. For me, it’s a must-read. Never mind global politics, the financial meltdown and the current swine flu debacle, I like to know about the rich and famous, and their house-buying patterns. It’s the behaviour of both client and agent that I am curious about: this column is a lesson in social behaviour and global financial patterns.
The Secret Agent offers a great service. Just last month he wrote how meetings with an Italian client are interspersed with long lunches at that wonderful London restaurant, The River Café. He hates a wishy washy client. Whatever a client’s needs are, he addresses and, well, he even takes them to lunch. The clients, always anonymous, are rich, famous and terribly badly behaved: spoilt and bratty.
The Secret Agent isn’t shy to disclose the purchase price of houses he sells. Last week he was showing a house worth 30 million pounds. That’s a lot of money in this economic climate. In any climate actually. In my world it’s a fukcing fortune.
Now he is the sort of agent I dream about. My family and I are in the market for more space. We have drawings for a renovation. As anybody who has ever experienced a domestic renovation, a new house may be emotionally easier and could be less expensive. In my endeavours I have contacted many agents and given them specific needs. I want a family home with enough bedrooms, living space, and cottage accommodation. I convey clearly the surburbs, even streets I prefer. The price range is determined. There is nothing exotic about me or my requests.
You would imagine that the relationship between client and estate agent is an easy one to understand. An agent offers a service by showing appropriate properties to the client who will eventually pay for that service. I always hope to get service. What I do get is a barrage of unsolicited text messages advertising houses completely out of my price bracket. I also get calls from agents ‘dying’ to show me the perfect house. My time is wasted looking at awful places that require the equivalent asking price in renovation costs. And, I usually get unwelcome input from the agent about how I could arrange my living in that particular house. My Secret Agent says its always a bad idea to inflict your own personal taste.
Things might change now. I am hoping again, I live in hope, that this terrible economic crisis will improve the quality of service. Last week I read in this newspaper that of the 90 000 estate agents in boom times, only 35 000 remain. Business is obviously quiet. Maybe there is one among the thousands of remaining agents who will have the heart to take the time and make the effort and treat me like a client. Everywhere else a client expects to be treated with care. Why not in the local housing market? It’s just a house I want.

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