Patriot Realm

When I was starting out in real estate sales, I learned a lot.

The first thing was being given the listing of the unsellable house. It is something that happens when you are new on the job: you are given a listing that no one else wants.

My unsellable house was a cracker. It had lime green shag pile carpet; a bright orange kitchen and covered in wallpaper with bold patterns of mission brown and orange. The toilets were red. Outside, there was a huge collection of garden gnomes.

It had been on the market for years and as soon as people saw the large collection of garden gnomes, they would not venture inside. The few that did waded through the shag pile green carpet into the kitchen, shook their heads and said " Move on. " 

I had largely given up on the unsellable house and, as the months went by, I had pretty much forgotten it was even on my books. It belonged to an old man whose wife had passed away and he had moved back to his hometown to be closer to family. 

One day, I had a couple from a smaller community in outback Australia come into my office, looking for a house to retire to. Everywhere I took them it was " No, it's too modern  " 

Or " It's too soulless. " 

There were " no memories " and the modern homes were struck off without setting foot inside. 

And then it came to me: take them to the unsellable house. 

We pulled up outside. 

" Oh " said the wife. 

"Hmm " said the husband. 

I got ready to pull out and head off when Mrs Buyer said " I'm excited. " 

" Yes " said Mr Buyer.  " Our lot would look good with those. " 

" Do you have garden gnomes? " I asked. 

" Oh yes, 32 at last count! "came the reply. 

My heart leapt. 

" Would you like to go inside? " I said, voice a bit quivery with anticipation. 

" Oh yes! Please! " said Mrs Buyer.  "Definitely" replied Mr Buyer. 

They held hands as they walked to the front door. Before they opened the door, they gazed back at the front lawn, strewn with garden gnomes. " Simon would fit in quite nicely by the letterbox. " said Mrs Buyer. 

" I agree. And perhaps Johnny would like it by the hibiscus? " Mr Buyer nodded sagely. 

I gave them the key and suggested that perhaps they would like to open the door. 

The key was placed in the lock and the door swung open to reveal the splendour of the vast expanse of shagpile green and the blast of orange from the kitchen. 

" It's perfect! " Mrs Buyer exclaimed. 

" It's just like home! " agreed her husband. 

And so it was that I had a signed, full price offer on the unsellable house. The only condition was that the garden gnomes stayed with the property. 

But that is not the end of the story. Oh no, not by a long shot. 

I had to get the seller to sign the contract. 

My boss, who became my mentor, told me that if you want to do a deal, you need to do it in person. It was 4 pm and my seller lived about 5 hours drive away. It was the middle of winter and I got in the car and drove out west into the cold winter night and knocked on the door of the aging seller.

He was in his dressing gown and slippers. I had telephoned and told him that I was coming and he told me that he would keep his outside light on. 

Now, his dressing gown matched his slippers. You know the ones: they are made of felted wool. In tartan. His was in a brown and beige pattern ensemble of slippers and gown. It had that old fashioned cord around the waist. The slippers were a perfect match. His pyjamas were pale blue and white striped flannel. 

I tried to find an image of a man wearing this but no luck. So this is the best that I can do. 

" I've got some hot cocoa on and something to eat. " he said. 

I was pretty hungry so that was welcome news. 

The kitchen table was set with two plates and knives and a big slab of butter and a jar of vegemite at the ready. 

We sat and drank cocoa and ate vegemite on toast as he explained that he wasn't sure he wanted to sell after all.  He and his wife had designed the house. It was their retirement home. 

 He told me about the garden gnomes. How they hard to let go of, how the whole house was almost a shrine to their marriage and the life that they had built together. 

I became very emotionally invested in the story and I was also pretty broke. This sale would pay for my groceries for a few months. 

Before I knew it, it was 2 o'clock in the morning. We had talked about his wife, their children, their marriage, his job, We had spoken about his grief. His reluctance to let go. 

Eventually, he said

 " I am being serious. I have one question and one question only. " 

" What is it? " I asked. 

He replied " If I sign this contract, will you leave and I can go to bed and get some bloody sleep? " 

True story. That was over 35 years ago. 

I laughed and agreed that it sounded like the wisest course of action. 

I drove past the house today on my way home from Redhead's place. It has been pulled down.  A modern flash house sits in its place. The gnomes are gone. 

The new house is so modern. It is soulless. It has no heart. It has no memories. 

And isn't that a shame?