- submitted by J. Glarsten on 09/17/2008
Musings on Bad Timing, Market Meltdowns, Short Pants and Sandals
By J. Glarsten
I bought a house a few days ago. Monday, September 15. The day the stock market crashed nearly five percent. When Lehman collapsed, AIG was begging and on the verge of tanking and everybody -- especially the impossibly nitwitted, quasi-human Suze Orman-like TV freaks -- were screaming that the sky (possibly the atmosphere) is falling, the financial system is in ruin and, for God sakes, buy gold or CDs (not the music kind, even Suze knows how to steal those online), anything but...Jesus, don't say it, REAL ESTATE.
I bought the real estate and I feel fine. I like the house I bought. I can afford it. If its value goes down -- which it will, really a matter of how miserably -- I can tolerate it (though I won't like it) and, what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Bail out last minute? Stay in my piece of shit rental where the roof leaks, the pipes function like those waterfall rides at Action Park, the landlord wants to double my rent and the lease ends anyway (thankfully) in a few months?
I went to my closing in shorts and sandals. My wife was appalled. Who dresses like that to a business transaction? People who work in their beach houses in Malibu, I said. She said, you don't work in Malibu. I know, but where does it say somebody who works in a claustrophobic home-office in New Jersey (AC also broken, not fixed) can't dress like a Hollywood dealmaker too?
The other parties at the closing were in suits. The lawyers were living in their Blackberries. (Stock market updates, tickers.) It felt like a wake. They served stale cookies on a plastic tray and coffee in paper cups. The sellers looked grim. The guy-seller who I saw a month or two ago confidently dressed in a crisp tan summer suit at some insufferably dull local fundraiser was now in something dark, his tie off at an angle, barely reaching his Adam's apple. Possibly because they (the sellers) sold me their house in order to buy something much bigger, much more expensive and because, I'd heard the other day, the primary money-maker in the family (the woman-seller) had just lost her job. On Wall Street. Sucks.
Like I said, I felt fine. I was in shorts and sandals. I thought, maybe if everyone else wore shorts and sandals, they'd have felt closer to fine too. Probably not.
My point? The economy sucks. Corporate greed and incompetence and lack of accountability suck. Government greed and incompetence and lack of accountability also suck.
There are a lot of people out there who are suffering financially and I feel genuinely bad for them. I read our mortgage papers. I have a law degree. I'm educated (way too educated; most people don't know I attended film school; I've worked as a "Best Boy," a "Key Grip", but that's another thing). I could barely understand every other sentence in the mortgage papers. I can now vividly see how many people less educated -- who thought they made one kind of deal, were tossed a pile of these papers, asked some questions, were told, yea these incomprehensible words really do reflect the deal you think you're making -- learned a few weeks/months/years later that they were completely screwed. They had no clue.
Our sellers weren't in that position. They had (or used to have) money. They actually were of Wall Street, good business schools, etc. And they...I don't really know. But they were unhappy, they looked over-extended, they lived very very well and now...like I said, I don't really know.
They're not alone. Thing is, a lot of people weren't screwed. I wasn't. I'm going to lose money if the housing market goes down more -- which it will. If I knew four or five months ago exactly what I know now I probably wouldn't have offered on the house. But I'm not going broke. Neither are lots of people. But some are, or they're at least in trouble; and some of us, a lot of us, including those who aren't in trouble, are guilty too....
Of greed and carelessness. And tolerance of too much of that in those we should hold accountable (other than ourselves). We're guilty of not demanding more from the corporate non-leaders whose companies we invest in. And of not demanding more from our political non-leaders who too often are complicit in or at least tolerant of the corporations' behaviors. (My View: Note To Corporate Officers...you want a bail-out or special government -- i.e., taxpayer -- help, first thing you do is give back all the big bucks you've made at that company while fucking up. In fact, come to think of it, give a lot of it back anyway, so all the employees you've laid off so you can keep raking in the huge money can either get their jobs back or use the money to live.)
I've seen more house-for-sale signs in my area over the past few days than in the past month. Who are these people, did they get screwed, screw themselves, how much trouble are they suddenly in? In six of ten houses I counted in one of the more "affluent" towns, there was at least one BMW, Lexus or Mercedes in the driveway. Five houses had beautiful house-long decks or porches. Four had three-car garages; one had a four-car garage.
One of my favorite details of the past few days -- hearing from Alan Greenspan again. Isn't he in jail or Greenland? Doesn't he feel shame; or the mainstream media feel enough skittishness for lionizing him that they might not want to blithely seek out his wisdom again? Alan ("There's No Such Thing As A Housing Bubble") Greenspan now believes things were pretty bad back "then"; in fact, he says, nothing this bad has happened in the past 50 years, possibly the past 100 years and, he predicts (going out on a huge limb), it will take "some time" for all of it to "work itself out." Enough time, no doubt, for Alan to continue to pull in the big bucks from all the corporate gigs he's now involved in.
Meanwhile, I'm preparing to move into my house. I had wanted to renovate the basement -- nothing big, just turn the cracked linoleum floored laundry room into a state of the art "guys" 24/7 entertainment hang-out center. Will have to wait on that one.
I will be continuing to wear my shorts and sandals. Yesterday I ran into the lawyer who repped our sellers. We were at Dunkin Donuts and he asked me how I was doing. I said, fine. He said, good...then, really? I ordered a box of cinnamon Munchkins. He said, you know, I've done closings for 14 years and I've never seen anyone attend in...what you're wearing now. Shorts. T-shirt. He laughed. I offered him the Munchkin box. He declined. He was in a suit. He ordered black coffee, extra-large. He said, it hasn't been as bad as it could've been, has it? I assumed he meant the stock market.
I said, no. He said (he shouldn't have), they're in trouble. I understood. I figured, I said. I said, if they'd wanted to call things off, I don't know, we would've talked about it. He said, they couldn't. They'd already closed on their new house -- huge, nearly double the cost, the oldest section of town, bordering the country club.
I stuffed a Munchkin in my mouth. He grabbed a couple. I gotta give you credit, he said. 14 years. He left. I imagined he loosened his tie. I grabbed my coffee. Extra large, extra milk and sugar.
J. Glarsten is a writer and former lots-of-things who used to travel regularly between NYC and LA and then moved to the suburbs. He hasn't left his house since. ...read more rants