There's Nothing Short About a Short Sale

There is NOTHING short about a short sale except perhaps one's patience and the amount of trees left in the forest due to all the wasted paper. In case you don't know what a short sale is I will attempt to explain, but I'm probably not going to give a completely accurate description as I'm not in the banking or real estate business. It's not as bad as a foreclosure for a home-owner. When an owner cannot pay his mortgage, he can sell the house for less than is owed on the mortgage instead of foreclosing. Basically, the bank agrees to take a "short" on the mortgage (hence the name short sale). So they make some money, but not as much as they "should." Last year I decided I wanted to buy a home. I looked at a variety of places and found one I liked. My realtor told me it was a short sale so it would take a little longer to close than what I'll call a regular sale. The seller and the bank (or whoever holds the mortgage) both have to agree to the offer. Fine with me, I didn't need to be out of my current home yet and that would give me a little more time to save. The seller agreed to my offer fairly quickly. This was June and I figured we'd close sometime in August because that's what the paperwork said. Ha! Boy was I wrong. August came and apparently "they" still hadn't decided whether or not to accept my offer. Who are "they," you ask? Good question. I believe, based on the various e-mails I received,"they" involves a realtor, a lawyer, Chase (I'm not sure if that was a person or a bank) a couple of investors, at least one bank, a small country, three french hens, two turtle-doves, and a partridge in a pear tree). So since we had an August deadline and no acceptance in sight my realtor asked me if I'd extend my offer. Fine by me, I still wanted a place to live and I hadn't looked for anything else so I extended the offer. I'll spare you the complaining except to say that two weeks later I was back in her office signing another extension and this continued fairly regularly for the next two months. My mom was hoping I'd have an answer by November so when all of the relatives were in town for Thanksgiving (several of whom have trucks) they could help me move. Mom did not get her Thanksgiving wish, nor did I get my birthday or Christmas wish (to have a new home soon). Instead I signed more extensions and looked at a few other places, but didn't find any I liked as much as this one. I was soon approaching the lead in my realtor's office for longest short sale. Someone had me beat by about a month (this was not a contest I wanted to win). I think my bank was getting a little annoyed with me because they had to keep redoing and extending paperwork for me (thankfully, my mortgage offifcer was very patient with me, he told me he now uses me as an example when he talks about short sales to first time home-buyers and I now have enough of his business cards to wallpaper a small room). It got to the point where I think I was communicating with my mortgage officer and realtor more than my friends. I seriously considered sending them both Chrismast cards as I was now talking to them more than people I usually send Christmas cards to. I was also beginning to wonder if people I worked with and perhaps some of my friends believed that I had made an offer on a home as no one had ever heard of it taking this long to buy a place. Well, Christmas came and went and so did the New Year, but still no home for me. Just more extensions and reassurances that things were looking good and we should be getting an answer soon. Excuse me for sounding pessimistic, but I didn't entirely believe them as I'd been hearing that since August. Perhaps the definition of soon is not the same in the real estate world. I was hopeful (perhaps too hopeful) as I purchased a few small things for the new place and several people gave me things for the new place for Christmas. February arrived and I decided I should go look at the place again before I signed another extension to make sure it still existed and looked livable. Thus one cold February afternoon I went to look at it and it was getting a bit messy, but it was still there and livable. I agreed to sign yet another extension. Sadly (and ironically) that night I got a phone call from my realtor...the investors, lawyer, banks, small country, Chase, three french hens, two turtle doves, and partridge in a pear tree did not accept my offer because apparently the owner had two mortgages on the place and the first and second mortgage holder couldn't reach an agreement! (There was talk of a counter-offer, but they couldn't reach an agreement right away so it never happened, all it did was cause me to get many phone calls while trying to visit a museum in NYC where I don't think you were supposed to be talking on a cell phone, so much for escaping to the city to forget about condo drama.) To say I was devasted is a huge understatement. But what could I do (besides perhaps plant some trees to make up for all the wasted paper)? So after eight long months I had NOTHING except wasted paper, little patience, and wasted money on required paperwork and an inspection. You want to hear something ironic? The place is STILL on the market and it dropped in price again so it is now on the market for significantly less than my offer. It's been on the market for OVER a year. So I think the real estate world needs to consider renaming a short sale a long sale. What do you think?