The documents for our deal (which the lender’s counsel wouldn’t share until we were seated in the room occupied by the 11 o’clockers) turned out to be erroneous. While the promises were reviewed and eventually incorporated into newly-drawn docs, I kept asking on behalf of the sellers, “Is there [mortgage] money?” The answer each time was “Not yet.” Then suddenly the reply from lender’s counsel was, “Will you just stop asking? It’s out of my control.”
“No,” I replied. “It’s not out of your control. You take business from this lender you know is out-of-tune with promises made by mortgage reps and who is also very slow to fund loans. You allow this to happen in your office.”
She glared at me and said very angrily, “Listen. I represent Crapola Mortgage. I don’t give a shit if their deals take one hour or six hours. And I don’t have to answer to you.”
The buyer’s counsel said, “Oh, yeah? Well, my clients are paying your fee of $850, so you have to answer to them. Don’t you think they give a shit?”
“Wait,” said one buyer. “I am paying her, and she has this attitude towards us?”
The lender’s counsel walked out of the room and sent her paralegal in as necessary. On the way out, at almost 6:00 pm, she tried to avoid our gazes. That same buyer planted himself in front of her glass-front office and semi-hollered, “Crap in, crap out.” His attorney clapped him on the back.