There is a scene in one of my favourite movies, The Wedding Singer, in which Adam Sandler's would-be wife visits him a day after standing him up at the altar. In her explanation for her actions she says, among other reasons, something to the effect of "I just don't love you anymore." Pretty boilerplate stuff. But it's Sandler's reaction that I've always loved – an agitated calm that quickly boils over. "These are all things that could have been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!!" he yells.
I could have screamed that same line at my bank today, when they called to inform me that, after finally getting around to looking in-depth at the purchase agreement for the new rowhouse (which I had faxed over, as part of the mortgage process), they realized that they will not – cannot – give me a mortgage, no matter how sparkling our finances may be.
Apparently it just dawned on them that this rowhouse is strata-free despite having common property (not common property in the legal/real estate mumbojumbo sense, but simply that there is a shared roof and the appearance of a shared interior wall. In reality, each house has its own walls, but the exterior facade makes them appear as one).
And apparently, because of this situation, these rowhouses are too risky to give mortgages to. ("What if you need to fix the roof and your neighbour doesn't agree?" the bank lady asked, despite me explaining that the roof warranty actually outlives the mortgage ammortization.)
I tried to plead my case a little bit, but to no avail. It's just company policy, and nothing personal, I was assured. Of course, my answer was to call the situation "horseshit" and declare my intention to pull my accounts entirely. (I'm so full of tact it's frightening).
But I quickly realized why I was so angry. It wasn't just because my house was deemed to be un-mortgageable by this particular bank (after all, two other banks today are quite pleased to give me a mortgage, I discovered after some phone calls), but it was the timing of the situation that pisses me off.
The subjects are to be removed on our new purchase in five days. This is when the bank decided to drop this bombshell on us. Not six weeks ago when we originally went in to inquire about a mortgage – at which time we specifically said what we were looking at buying. And not a week ago, when I contact with the bank's mortgage person again. And not even two days ago, when I first faxed them the contract.
No, any of those days would have been superior to today, which is when they finally decided to call and say, "Sorry, I know you only have five days, but how about starting from square 1 again?
"Don't be mad, it's nothing personal."
But considering that today has been stressful solely on account of their procrastination, I don't think a little personal consideration would've been too much to ask for.
(As an aside, this is the second time I've had to use the anti-Coast Capital label in the past 10 months. I think that speaks volumes. And isn't it credit unions that tout their 'personal touches' make them better than big, faceless, corporate banks? Hmmm.....)
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