Closing?

It should not be this difficult

Dedicated to Linette Chance, Redfin Real Estate Agent, who saved my sanity.

Dramatis personae

The builder’s agent, Gaston

The real estate agent, Linette

The builder’s go-to gadget guy, J.T.

The mortgage loan officer, Shylock*

The mortgage loan officer’s supervisor, Lady MacBeth*

The underwriter

The closer

The title lady, Lindsay

*The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Closing on a house could be exciting.  It could also be tedious, annoying, and frustrating.  Ours falls in the latter three categories.

We left home in Minnesota on March 24th to drive to Oregon to be oriented in our new home in Estacada on March 30th and to close on the home on April 7th.  The orientation was interesting.

We discovered all sorts of smart gadgets the house will have, including, for example, keyless entry that will allow us to have a delivery made while we’re not at home via a one time code given to the delivery person.  There are others, all lined up on the kitchen counter to be activated via app download once we get the house wified. J.T. gave us too much information, too much in the sense that there is no way I’ll remember it all when it comes time to utilize everything.

The day after, we went to a local appliance store to purchase washer/dryer, refrigerator, and induction range.  The store owner agreed to take our installed brand new electric range on consignment.  We could not, at time of purchase back in December, get Gaston to agree to not put an electric range there in the first place.  Evidently, the whole house comes in a package to be assembled like a Lego house.  Yet, we are quite pleased with the finished product.  I will need to make some changes to the kitchen cupboards, but those are minor.

We spent the weekend with David’s children and their families.  There will be a lot more of those family times in our future. We’re even looking forward to a camping trip with the children in the fall.

We drove to Estacada on Monday (a good hour during traffic from Ben and Charla’s home), to open new bank accounts and to transfer the water/sewer service with the city to our names beginning April 7th.  We had lunch at a bar/restaurant place, club sandwich for him, and taco salad for me, both of which were so hefty neither of us could finish them. We checked out the grocery store, and the produce is fresh. There were even great looking chochos (chayote squash) on the shelf. Pumpkin soup, yes! While they were temporarily out of King Arthur Bread flour, they did have KA All Purpose, which is unenriched, unbleached, and high enough in protein to make good bread. We also took a look at the park by the river, but still did not find kayak access to the lake.  Perhaps we’ll need to ask someone.  We picked up brochures at city hall for trails and Mount Hood outings.  Everything’s pleasant and proceeding according to plan.

And then Monday evening happens, three days before closing.  Shylock, our mortgage loan banker, needs more documents from us.  Like proof that we have enough money for the down payment and income for the monthly mortgage payments. A list of our assets.  A pension letter that states we will receive this much money for at least the next three years.  But there is no pension letter.  I was under the impression we had given him everything he needed. At least he said we did.  Now, screen shots were suddenly not acceptable when a month ago they were.  Now suddenly we had to disclose assets.  But we have no “assets.” Our assets are annuitized, and we have guaranteed, lifetime, monthly income. No one, not even we, can touch these “assets.”  And we like it that way.  We cannot be swindled out of everything we own and end up destitute. Our annuity is like social security. We have nothing to do with the assets, have no idea how much assets there are, and we don’t care. We live comfortably on this income.  We have health insurance, a house, a car, and a camper van.  That’s it.  We managed to accumulate enough money from this income to pay for the down payment of our new house.  When we sell the Minnesota house, we will pay off the mortgage we are currently acquiring. It should be simple. But here we are.

Now it’s Tuesday, two days before we close, and our closing is in doubt. We do not know if the bank will actually approve our loan request. I sent—again—all the available bank statements that show our monthly income from the annuity and social security for both of us.  I sent—again—the joint checking statements from which all our bills are paid. This time I sent all the pages, including all the banking gobbledygook and the “intentionally left blank” pages.  I sent—again—the annuity statements from 2021. The only 2022 statements available at this time are the W2 forms. Finally, at the end of day, Shylock writes, “With the email showing each one is lifetime I feel [italics mine] we should be covered.” Previously on Tuesday, we spoke on the phone with another loan officer assigned to our case, Lady MacBeth.  Lady MacBeth tells us point blank that “we cannot use common sense in these transactions.” She “understands” everything, but helps with nothing. Nothing is in her control.  Underwriting is in charge.  I should have asked her to put “Underwriting” on the phone. David lost his temper when Lady MacBeth asked him how much money was in his possession before he annuitized it, and could he send proof of that.  Short answer: No, he could not.  I ended up telling her that if she was not going to approve us, we would back out of the deal and she could inform the title company to return our earnest money as we did not yet sell our house in Minnesota (although we appear to have a buyer).

We went to bed trying to figure out how to tell my daughter in England that we are not buying a house in Oregon and that she needed to cancel her trip to us in August.  Perhaps she could visit us in Minnesota instead.  Cancel and ask for refund on the appliances.  Cancel with the electric company.  Cancel water with the city. Cancel the garbage/recycle company. Close unnecessary bank accounts.

Wednesday morning, there is another email from Shylock needing “just a couple of things to complete.” Perhaps we *are* closing after all. But he now needs “six months of monthly payments in assets.” And he is “short the reserves amount.” This is the first I hear of “six” months.  It was two before.  I tell him again, I have no assets.  But I flood him with pages until he writes what he doesn’t need.  What I sent him already.  I have bloody well sent him everything already.  By 12:43 pm, Lady MacBeth writes, “GOOD NEWS. We have received final approval and are moving your file to close now.” And then, nothing.  I am expecting to hear from the title company that they have my file from the bank, and that I can initiate the wire transfer for our portion of the closing.  I call and tell them that my Minnesota bank closes at 2 pm pacific time, and that we now have a 30-minute window in which to accomplish this.  It is 3:28 pm local time, when Shylock informs me that we can do a “hybrid signing” in the portal tomorrow morning early and then only have to sign a few pages with a notary at the title company.  I’m not inclined to do any “hybrid” signing.  This time I want to do all the signing on actual paper where I can see exactly what I am signing.  But we go to bed more hopeful that we will actually have a house in Estacada before the weekend.

Thursday morning, we call our bank in St. Peter and tell them to wire 90k to the title company in Portland.  Linette, our real estate agent, advised us to do it early, so that we could still close on our scheduled closing day. We leave Julia’s house by 8 am for our 9 am appointment with the title company.  On our way, and caught in traffic, Shylock emails me to tell me to wire 89k.  The closer will find the exact number soon, and we should be ok to go. When Shylock says “should be,” I realize by now, he means “it might, perhaps, be possible.” But the closer hasn’t “found” the number yet that we were expecting would have arrived at the title office by now.  I get a call from Linette:

“Have you left yet?”

“Yes.”

“Title doesn’t have the number.”

“We’re caught in traffic. Might not make it for the 9 am appointment.”

“That’s good. Bank has not sent papers yet.”

I can’t really recall a time when being stuck in traffic was a good thing.  Today it is.  We get to the office shortly after 9 am, and Lindsay, the title officer, tells me my 90k have arrived, but the bank has not sent the documents yet.  We decide to leave for a nearby Cracker Barrel to have breakfast.  Email from Shylock:

“HI Barbara

Need one last favor I know it will be annoying but needed. 

My closer just told me between what is required cash to close and reserves we are short by $900 dollars on verified funds.   I was using balances on the accounts as of end of March 17 for those accounts.   I assume you have more in all the accounts as of now minus the 90k you already sent.   Can you email me screen shoot of transaction history for the account with current balances.   My closer and Lindsay are ready to send docs I am just short a little on verified funds.    I know you moved money from different accounts to the main account.   I don’t need a pdf but IF YOU COULD SCREEN SHOT ME (all caps mine) over transaction history like you did yesterday but need it to go back to March 17th.  I will use that. 

Sorry for confusion I will after we close work on getting you a partial refund type gift. 

I deeply apologize for issue but can get resolved very quick so we can still sign today if you are able to pull”

And so it starts all over again.  What verified funds?  Title already has my lump sum of down payment.  I have already sent all the records he is asking for, by both screen shots and file transfer. How can we be $900 short? Short of what?  We have now payed $104,000.00.  We have a few thousand left in our accounts.  We will have another month of our regular income at the end of the month. In the restaurant, I have only my phone on me and the only thing I can send him now are screen shots from my banking phone app—which he wrote would be fine—of all the money we have left in our accounts.  He seems to accept those.  But still, there is total silence more than an hour later.

I started to think at one point that the problem was me not telling Shylock about a savings account at a different bank I have for me and my grandchildren.  I borrowed 5k from this account because we also have to pay 5k in quarterly taxes, and I thought that I might not have sufficient funds for both, the down payment and the taxes.  The 5k will go back into the account when we sell the house in St. Peter.  Also, the USBank mortgage that we are trying to acquire will be paid off when that happens.

But no, that was not the problem. I still don’t know what it is.  Lindsay tells me that if the documents get here, we sign, and she send the signed documents back to bank, after which the bank releases the mortgage money, and if that happens by 3 pm, she can send it all on to the builder and we can have access to the house today, on closing day.  Title office in Clackamas closes at 3 pm on Thursdays. If they record and Gaston gets the money before then, we have access.

Silence from the bankers. Linette shows up.  She wants to be present at the signing.  Shylock tells her that all the screen shots I sent from Cracker Barrel are not acceptable because they don’t show a URL. (As my son-in-law informs me much later, phone apps, by definition, do not have URLs; they are not websites; they are apps.) I have my iPad back and we send new screen shots from my bank’s website, making sure the URL shows, as well as downloads at 1:36 pm. At about 2:30 pm, Lindsay informs us that the closer at the bank says she cannot wire the money to title after 1:45 pm. Besides, the closer is still looking for “the number.”  So no closing is taking place today.

Options given by Lindsay: 1. We come back tomorrow.  2. She can send a notary to our house tonight with the papers for us to sign.  I say IF those papers arrive today.  Or 3. We can continue to wait at her title office as there is a chance the papers may arrive before the title offices closes at 5 pm.  It is now 3:08 pm.  We wait. And we wait. And we wait some more. Nothing. I compose an email to Shylock:

“More than an hour later since you ‘just sent follow up’ and we still have nothing? We’ve been here since 9 am because yesterday evening YOU said ‘early morning.’ You ask for more proof of I don’t know what, I send you the same stuff I’ve sent you before, you say ‘great,’ but there is no progress. Why are you holding up my business with you? This is the worst customer service I’ve experienced in my life time. I am beyond frustrated, especially since you could have had everything you are asking me for now, on the day of closing, back in February or March.”

David says, “don’t send it. It won’t make him hurry up.”  David is right.  I don’t send.

By 4 pm, the papers arrive.  Lindsay has to balance everything and make sure the figures match.  It takes her half an hour. We are invited to the signing office, and we sign everything on paper printed out where we can actually see what we’re signing.  Besides, Lindsay explains everything carefully. We’re done by 5 pm.  Lindsay makes copies for us, informs us that we’re due a 2k refund, and sends us on our way.  She is staying at the office to notarize everything, and send it all back to the bank for them to release the money first thing (really ???!!! perhaps; no one trusts anymore what the bankers say will actually happen) in the morning, after which she will release the money to the builder, after which the builder will send the code to enter the house (with the key on the counter) to Linette, our agent. And Linette will call (not email or text) me. We will drive down to give access to the appliance delivery people. At least that is the plan.  At this point I’m just wondering what “one more little thing” Shylock will need in the morning.

Friday.  Nothing.  We wait.  I text Linette at 10:17.  “You think Gaston will let us in to take appliance delivery at 1 pm if we don’t get code on time?” Linette writes back at the same time that Shylock tells me “we just funded on our loan” that the wire was completed and that Lindsay was now in the process of recording the title with the county. So it looks like we can take possession today.  But it is after 12 noon now, and I call the appliance company to reschedule delivery for tomorrow, Saturday.  We wait again.  I now learn that the feds have to approve the wire from the bank to the title company. This, too, is taking time.  I google Clackamas County Recording hours and discover it’s 2:30 pm, not 1:30 pm on Fridays as Lindsay thought. So we have an hour yet.  I tell Gaston, whose hands are really tied as he can’t go against his employer’s rules (which are that no one has access to a house unless they are a registered owner) that I rescheduled the delivery.  He’s happy. I ask him who knew the feds would get involved. He laughs and denies knowledge of same. But then, all of a sudden, the title is recorded, and we’re in the clear.  It is 2:20 pm, Friday afternoon, the 8th of April 2022.

J.T., the wonderful young man who took us through orientation a lifetime ago on March 30th, and whose appointment we missed yesterday, has rescheduled his appointment with us for 2:30 pm today.  We’re at the house waiting for him when we learn the title is recorded.  Gaston tells me J.T. is on his way over with the code.  We wait.  For J.T.

David walks around the yard and meets Chris, our new neighbor, who is also just moving in and slept at his house for the first time last night.  We tell Chris that our title has just been recorded, and that we’re waiting to get the code.  “You think they have all different codes for all of us? I doubt it! Try 040822,” he says.  David pushes the numbers. And lo and behold, the garage door rises and we enter our new home in Estacada, Oregon, for the first time.  Hallelujah.