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After talking to a number of them, it quickly became clear that our existing rate and monthly payments can’t be beat in the current market. I thanked a few mortgage reps for their time, and ignored the rest, and, within a week, all was peaceful again, and my mobile phone battery was allowed to rest. But then there was Ivan. Actually, Ivan still is. Tenaciously so. Ivan, from Somethingorother Mortgage Company, was one of the unlucky ones whose initial voice messages I never returned; by the time he was in play, it was already clear to us that we weren’t going to pursue refinancing. Fourteen weeks later, he’s still calling me every other day, and has even called on a Sunday once or twice. He doesn’t usually leave a message, he just keeps pinging my phone. For some cruel reason, it has amused me to see how long ol’ Ivan would hang in there. I really thought the two-month mark would be the end of it, but, to my surprise, he keeps on plugging away. Maybe he’s desperate to raise money to pay off the Mafia, or his mother needs an emergency gender reassignment operation, or he’s got this sweet deal cookin’ with a very nice Nigerian man who will make him rich if only he can raise a few thousand dollars for "bank transfer fees". I don’t know. What I do know is that he’s amazingly persistent. If somebody gave me their phone number and invited me to call, then failed to pick up the phone or answer any of my messages from the approximately 47 calls I made over a three-month period, I like to think I’d take the hint to get lost. Not Ivan, though. His name on the floor of the call center is either "Pit Bull" or "Dumbass". It’s hard to say which, from my vantage point. At this point, he may never stop, foolishly pursuing his unrequited lust for closing costs and a meager commission. Heck, if it keeps up much longer, he’ll probably start camping out in his rusted ‘77 Pacer across the street, digging through my trashcan and peeping in my bathroom window. The saddest point to date in the story of the star-crossed Ivan was the rambling message he left just yesterday. It is paraphrased thus:
That’s just sad. When I listened to it, the message came off like a veiled threat to call me forever until I acknowleged his existence. You can’t throw these stalker types any kind of crumb, though; it only fuels their delusions that they were meant to service your real estate finance needs after all, and that if only you would just maybe have coffee with them tomorrow, they could show you how much they love you. I think I’m scaring myself now. For all I know, if I ever return Ivan’s calls, I could find myself waking up at the bottom of a pit with a basket of skin lotion at my feet. Such are the pitfalls of contemporary home ownership. |
Over three months ago my wife and I were considering refinancing our home. We wanted to see what current mortgage rates were like, so we started sniffing around. My wife went to one of those "send us some information and a pack of lenders will hold a cage match to find the best rate for you" sort of websites. She submitted my contact information, and, sure enough, the very next day a dozen companies were calling my mobile phone, hungrily barking after my business.