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It’s My Money & I’ll Carp If I Want To

A couple buying a home brought along the wife’s parents when they came to my office. The dad never stopped grousing about the cost of a house now, compared to prices of yesteryear.

 

“They are putting down as much as it cost my father to but his whole house,” he grumbled. “I didn’t pay even half the closing costs these kids have to shell out.”

 

I kept smiling and trying to be polite, though my focus was on trying to ensure the actual buyers understood what they were signing. Dad offered stories on relatives who had been ripped off by banks and sellers, and a relative who had “been hosed” by a bad lawyer. “Those are terrible stories,” I said sympathetically each time, steering the conversation back on track.

 

When we came to the paragraph where I explained the seller’s obligations to maintain the house through closing, Pop interrupted with the tale of how his neighbor “jury-rigged the dishwasher when it broke right before closing.”

 

I found myself on the ledge of civility as the father nattered on and on, and I couldn’t imagine why the purchasers brought the parents along. The mystery was solved, however, when it came time for the downpayment portion of evening. All eyes turned to Mom, who reached into her purse, took out her checkbook, and wrote out the entire sum.

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