On falling in love with houses, polishing turds, and knowing what you’re getting yourself into.
As a builder, people have trusted me for a long time to advise them on decisions that run into the tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, and occasionally million-plus dollar range. I’ve always taken that responsibility seriously.
Most people have a vision for what they want out of their home, and they hire me to make it real. Frequently, the path to get there isn’t something they envisioned at all. They see a gorgeous new master bathroom in their mind’s eye. I see it too, but I’m looking at it through a long tunnel, and the bathroom is at the far end. That tunnel may include plenty of not-so-pretty stuff: structural modifications, plumbing, electrical, lead abatement, dust and debris, disrupted household routines, and the joy of getting everything up to the third floor. Unless you’ve been through a renovation a few times, you couldn’t be blamed for being shocked at just how much is involved in getting to the result you’re after.
So I like to temper expectations and make sure people really know what they’re getting into before we move ahead. Even when expectations are perfectly reasonable and everyone gets along, I expect some stress. Unknowns come to light when we open walls. We’re disturbing a family’s routine. There’s noise, there’s mess, and the list goes on.
Unless it’s new construction, I’m usually working with the fact that someone already owns the property, and we’re trying to make the most of what we’ve been given. Sometimes it ain’t much. I commonly tell my customers that we can do pretty much anything they want. That’s not the issue. The whole question is how much it takes to get there. Plenty of times it’s just flat out not worth it, and that’s the conclusion we reach. That’s often sad for the person whose dream peters out along the way, but it beats finding out halfway through.
Courting a House
In my home inspection work, I enter a client’s life at a very different stage. Typically, they’re courting a property they find attractive, but they haven’t consummated the union.
Often I can tell the client may be looking through rose-colored glasses, which is totally human and understandable. For one thing, they’re in love, and we’re all fools in love, am I right? For another, the property has been gussied up for the date. The listing used all kinds of flowery language that humans don’t say in real life (“pastoral setting,” anyone?), the pictures looked suspiciously good, and the house was staged for their arrival. Plenty of people are happy to help a willing participant into those rose-colored glasses.
But my clients are usually smart. They have the sense that there may be things unseen, unknown, or concealed, and they’ve brought Kayla and me in to get the whole picture before they tie the knot.
At this point in the process, I’m keenly aware that they still have an off-ramp, and that the direction they choose could have a huge impact on their lives. No pressure, though, right?
Looking Down the Tunnel
I’m not only looking for things that are defects today. I’m looking down that same tunnel into the future, with whatever my client hopes for as the picture at the end of it. Maybe this is their forever home. Maybe they plan to hand it down to their kids in a few years and move to one-floor living in retirement. Maybe it’s going to be a short-term rental. Maybe it’s a flip. Whatever it is, I’ve spent my whole career getting good at knowing what the journey to that destination looks like, and the more you tell me, the more accurate a map I can draw.
I don’t tell my clients whether to buy the home. That’s truly outside my lane, personally and professionally. There are myriad factors that go into someone’s decisions, obligations, and trajectory, and it would be incredibly presumptuous of me to pretend I understand them all. What I can do is give them as much information as I can, as accurately as I can, to inform their decision.
But I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes lean pretty hard on the issues I think matter most.
Polishing a Turd
It’s really common for me to see nice finishes sitting on a dump of a structure.
There are all kinds of homeowners out there. Some are so meticulous that I can’t help smiling at all the thoughtful little details. Some just drive it till the wheels fall off and don’t care when they do. But I’ll go ahead and tell you what really salts my apples, even though you didn’t ask: people who pick all the low-hanging fruit and neglect the tree.
Slick new finishes, brand-new appliances and lighting, and the smell of fresh paint everywhere (with, I suspect, water stains hiding behind it), on a house that’s slowly falling down. A failing foundation. Organic growth all over the bottoms of the cellar joists. A furnace on its last legs with no service tags on it. Loose wires hanging like stalactites that I have to dodge while I document the mess.
Look, if you’re broke, I get it. If the whole house is rough, well, things happen. But if you systematically ignore the well-being of the whole while skimming the cream off the top, I take a dim view of your hubris. You, sir (or ma’am), are polishing a turd, and that’s not the kind of work you should be proud of.
In cases like this, I feel it’s my duty to be plain with the home’s potential suitor. This particular partner comes with a lot of baggage, and the love had better be real. When a house has been systematically neglected, or has one or more core problems that affect the whole thing, the entire commitment needs to be evaluated through that lens.
Scrubbing the Decks on a Sinking Ship
Recently Kayla and I inspected a house we were actually nervous might fall down around us. Or down the hill it was teetering off, to be more exact. And there we were, shaking our heads in wonderment as we documented a miswired outlet. Scrubbing the decks on a sinking ship, as it were. It didn’t feel like very meaningful work.
The outlet goes in the report, because that’s the job. But a miswired outlet and a failing foundation shouldn’t take up the same amount of room in a buyer’s head, and part of my job is making sure they don’t.
The Right House for the Right Person
None of this is to say that houses with issues aren’t worth buying. It is to say that they certainly aren’t worth it to everyone.
If you’re a hands-off, busy professional with a growing family and this is going to be your primary residence, think hard about buying a house that needs a lot of work. If you’re a can-do, adventurous soul, maybe the house that needs a ton of work but has a great price is the perfect opportunity.
Same house. Same problems. Very different deal.
I’m not here to tell you who to marry. Think of me as your chaperone on a first date. You can fall as hard as you like, but I want to see everybody’s hands, and there’ll be no hanky-panky on my watch.
If you’re courting a house and want someone to meet the whole family before you tie the knot, Kayla and I would be glad to help. Our prices are posted right on the website, and you can book online whenever you’re ready. Or give us a call. We’re happy to talk through what you have in mind for the place, because the more we know about where you’re headed, the better the map we can draw.