Sad News: The Contract Has Been Cancelled.

 

It was the afternoon of the day before yesterday.
Afternoons are always sleepy.
I was half-dreaming through work, vaguely wondering, 
“Am I even working properly right now?... ”
That’s when an email arrived.

It was from the real estate agent,
so I figured it must be about the building inspection scheduled in three days.
But when I opened it, it read:

"Unfortunately, my client has changed her mind over the weekend
and decided to withdraw from the sales agreement and proceed with another buyer."
…

Sleepiness vanished instantly.

But there was still no way I could keep working.
Why…?
How could this be…?
What just happened…?
My head spun with thoughts as I got up from my chair, sat down again, got up again. 

The contract wasn’t signed yet, true,

but the documents had been sent. Both parties had agreed in principle.

I had booked a structural inspection,

applied for a mortgage,

requested a property valuation,

and asked the bank to arrange a notary.

If I had signed the contract a week later as planned,

everything would have clicked into place,

and the moving process would have begun.

The email was in English.

I wondered if maybe my brain had gone numb from overwork.

So I copied and pasted the message and asked Zoroku to translate it for me word for word.

Sure enough, it said "unfortunately."

Just to be sure, I asked Zoroku:

"What does this mean?"

Zoroku replied:

"This is a formal notice of cancellation.

You weren’t selected."

Wow.... what?

I thought it was a one-on-one negotiation.

Turns out I was in a selection process?

Apparently, saying I wouldn’t sign the contract without a building inspection

rubbed the seller the wrong way.

The slight delay caused by the inspection didn’t help either.

And it probably didn’t go over well when I asked them to remove

the old, half-broken kitchen,

and the leftover fridge and washing machine.

The seller had hoped to just walk out without lifting a finger.

To them, I must’ve seemed like a hassle.

But you know, Zoroku warned me.

He kept saying, 

“This property is old. Be cautious.

  Let your guard down, and you’ll regret it.”

So I followed his advice!

Still, I wrote a pleading email asking them to reconsider.

My younger brother often jokes,
"You’re pretty proud, huh?"
But when it comes to short-term dealings like this,
my pride is about the height of a lounge table.

Of course, no reply came that night.

The building inspection was two days away.

If I didn’t cancel it soon, I might be charged.

Maybe I was already too late.

The mortgage application was underway—that might come with cancellation fees too.

The appraisal company arranged by the bank had also sent a message.

That would be a total loss if I couldn’t cancel.

Normally, I’d just shrug and say, “Oh well,”

but real estate isn’t like that.

Everything costs hundreds, even thousands of euros.

Cancellation fees can be hefty.

So I sent another email.

Said the kitchen could stay as it was.

The inspection was necessary anyway, but I didn’t need to delay anything.

I really wanted to buy the place.

Please, please. Pretty please.

That kind of email.

Still no response the next day.

So I called the real estate agent.

"Hmm, I’ll check with her," he said.

While waiting, I called the inspection company

and asked if I could still cancel the appointment.

They said that unless I canceled within one hour,

I’d be charged 100%.

That actually lifted my mood a bit.

It meant if I cancelled within one hour, I wouldn’t have to pay anything.

I called the agent again and asked him to get back to me right away.

He still hadn’t contacted the seller.

"Hmm, yeah, I’ll try her again," he said.

I waited 45 minutes. Still no reply.

Called again.

He answered, sounding genuinely sorry.

"Unfortunately..."

So that was that. The deal was officially off.

From that moment on, I suddenly became very competent.

Cancel this, cancel that—

I contacted every party involved and shut the whole operation down.

Thanks to my speed, I didn’t incur a single cancellation fee.

People around me — my coworkers who had witnessed the scene,
the inspection company, the appraisal firm, the bank —
offered their sympathies.
Oddly enough, it brought me back to life a little.

People who had witnessed the mess—my coworkers, the inspector,

the appraiser, the bank staff—

offered me their sympathy.

Oddly enough, that gave me a little strength back.

But since I had stepped away from my actual job for a while,

when I returned, everything had piled up.

The afternoon was chaos. I dashed around like mad, catching up.

At some point I went to the restroom, glanced at the mirror,

and was surprised to see my face glowing.

But after running full-speed all day,

I rode my bike home and looked in the mirror again.

This time, I looked like a zombie.

I looked quite aged — like I was already 50.

Well, I’ll be 50 in two years anyway,

So maybe that’s not so surprising.

Was it because I’d lost the house?

Or because I’d worked myself to the bone?

I have no idea.

I just went to bed.