It happens, the seller of a home, any type of property can eagerly want to get the real estate on the market.
Quick like a bunny Mr Broker Man to get it, the property, the real estate deal of the day listed. But when it actually comes right down to the "I found a buyer ready, willing and able to buy" things go sideways. Then south on the way to dead. Off the market. But not because it is sold. But because you Mr Broker Man found a buyer that actually jumped through all the hoops. Crossed the "T"'s and you know what happened to all the "I"'s.
Remorse in real estate sales, happens to more than just buyers who get cold feet and want out.
Reasons for sellers remorse include the kids are out of state, hounding me like a tag team round the clock.
Full course press in unison. Advising to stick a for sale sign in the lawn. Then hopefully, shortly after spiking it, to high tail it to our neck of the woods Daddio. From up, down, across country.
Where sure, Dad the widower is closer to the kids to save them gas and time checking in for real. So they feel less helpless, guilty about Dad all alone since Mom left the earth.
But he knows no one, will be home in the cute little apartment extension on one of the cub's homes. Waiting for the days to tick by until nursing home happens. The standard refrain "Orderly, where are my meds?"
He is happy, the kids are not and take the reins connected to the for sale sign out front the family homestead.
They try to force a sale as being best for the real estate he may have built, called home for decades. Even though Dad has casseroles around the neighborhood coming in from every widow this side of the Mississippi. His church group consoles him. His regular haunt for coffee down at the local greasy spoon keeps him up to speed on grapevine news. The boys down at the club would miss him in the Hearts game, cribbage tournament and bowling play offs. He is a fixture, active, has a purpose in the local community.
He is on his knees in his garden, and the two cats are purring when hearing the whirring of the can opener. Those felines, the gray tiger and tabby that won't be making the trip south for new digs if Junior's wife has her way.
She can not be 300 feet or closer to a cat or she will need a quick trip to the ER.
Sellers remorse can also be I want to sell, the place is a rambler.
He admits it comes with a 55 gallon job jar to slay, tackle that is being ignored.
It is still home and when a buyer signs on the dotted line of a purchase and sale agreement, that queasy roller coaster stomach condition.
Heck no, I won't go.
No apartments that work, fit the itch. And the buyer is not going to wait. Move it or lose it Buster.
A landing pad that works is not available. Too big, too small, something just won't fit and click. One after another of the rental units has something wrong with it. Older folks resist, take longer to make a change too.
Afraid of making a mistake that is not so easy to recover from at their age. So they keep their finger on the house chess piece and don't make a move unless they are ready mentally, emotionally. Everything has to be pretty near perfect if healthy. To say good bye to the homestead where the family nest egg started, ended.
A couple of trips around the listing process merry go round can make the locals call, label the seller a "Peter". But it does make the older widower a wolf. Just the process of aging, letting go and seller's remorse in real estate raising it's ugly head.
You see garden variety, classic cases all the time through out your real estate career.
If you hooked up a polygraph during the listing the sweeps of the stylus.
Would say beyond any doubt yes, the owner of the property does want to sell. Today.
It's no lie, no bull.
But open the front door and trot in a real live buyer for the home, his house. And whoa, talk about wild up and downs of the pen on the graphed drum paper.
Seller's remorse, not just a buyer's version of the same chills, ills, bed spins. The conditions when the in love with a real estate sale down grades to just love, then like and then well you know. About the fine line between love and hate and letting go of a house, a partner, anything where there is an over the top lub dub of fondness.