The Mortgage Devil Does A Loan For Me, Sorta

A few months into my tenure at the Bank of Hell, I put my house on the market. It was my first home and it was a major project, ironically, I had bought it after it went to foreclosure. It was an 80 year old colonial that was in such bad shape that when I stepped foot into it for the first time it had kelly green carpet with dried up dog shit on it. I remember commenting to the realtor, "Perhaps they thought the green carpet would make the dog think it was grass." I was pretty sure they ran some kind of phone sex operation there and made meth in the carriage house but, it was love at first sight for me. The house had great bones. You had to be a visionary to see it through the dog shit, plaster falling off the walls, landscaping growing through the windows, and the hideousness that was carpet over original pine flooring. I saw it for what it was intended: a majestic home in a poor town. It was the mayor's house of Hillbilly Ville and it was perfect for me.



The home was 15 minutes from the ocean and 15 minutes from the nearest city where people actually lived and shopped. I purchased the house for $80,000 in 2002 and got my mortgage through Countrywide, with 10% down. At the time, it never crossed my mind that I would be a loan officer; I was working as a mate on an offshore fishing boat and "writing my dissertation.". When I wasn't fishing for tuna, marlin, and big tips in a leopard print bikin, I was renovating the house and learning things most women never do...and for good reason. I tore up carpet, drywalled, painted, tore up landscaping, and learned to disguise flaws in a home to the naked eye. My husband started calling me, "Contractor Jane". I went to auctions, rummaged dumpsters, and turned old barn doors into charming dining room tables to capture the essence of the home. I was in my element.


I had a few minutes of buyers remorse, not because of the constant work and money that the home needed but, instead it came when I went to the local tavern and met people that scared the crap out of me. There were people using the "N" word and not at all in an ironic fashion. There were huge Nascar fans with less teeth than an infant, no view out of their window, and to make matters worse, they looked at me like I was a city girl. Fortunately, I can adapt to most situations, but I left the bar the night we moved in a little bit drunk and pretty sure I was going to get robbed and raped. At first my friends made fun of the purchase, I had purchased a home in a town where non-residents don't even like to stop for gas. I got the last laugh.


After a few years in the home and countless trips to Home Depot, my mommy mechanism kicked in. I had a boy about to turn three and was thinking that perhaps, we should move somewhere with more people like me. I realize now that there is no neighborhood on earth with people like me, but at the time, I really held out hope that the suburbs and a culdesac would give me moms who cussed like sailors, drank wine, and were worldly when it came to politics and economics. Naive, much?


After searching for the perfect home I decided to build one in a planned urban development (PUD) full of brick homes and large lots. It was right in the middle of a culdesac and I designed it myself to be fabulous. I put our now renovated colonial on the market for $260,000 and got offers immediately. Two and a half years in the home and we got an immediate offer at more than triple what we paid. Because we did so much work on the home in what they call "sweat equity", we made out like bandits.


The new home was to be finished by Christmas, which was perfect because I had moved my parents out from the Midwest to live with us and had designed them an in-law suite attached to our new home. This was in the peak of the housing boom however, and the home was delayed. At first the builder told me it was a six week delay, then two months, and in the end it turned out to be 5 months late. I was now pregnant with my daughter, living with my elderly and often critical parents in a 3 bedroom colonial, and working as a loan officer in a pressure filled situation. I was on the verge of insanity.



The insanity and delays led me to keep upgrading things in my new home, so much so that I came in $75,000 over budget. I wanted to do my loan through the Bank of Hell and because the Mortgage Devil was all about his glory, I had to ask him to do the loan. He responds, "Of course, I do all the employee loans. But you will have to do your own application, send it through underwriting, and get all the documentation." Basically, I was to do his job for my own loan. By the way, this is totally unethical. I was under direct orders to basically be the loan officer on my own loan, of course, the Mortgage Devil didn't have time for his minions. I did as told and moved into Suburbia, earning the Devil a small commission for which he did nothing.


The craziest part of this is that after I moved into my home I started receiving his mass mailings offering to refinance me. Wonderful postcards with his picture telling me, his employee, that it was a great time to refinance. WTF? I went into his office one day and told him, "You could save some money by taking me off your marketing list, I know who you are and I don't need constant reminders." He responded with, "Well, you would be surprised how few loan officers remember to refinance their own homes." Gee, really? I watch interest rates everyday and just closed two months ago on my home and you think I need to be told its time to refinance? The only thing bigger than that man's ego is the national debt.


As though it wasn't bad enough having to deal with the asshole everyday, I now was one of his customers which entitled me to countless newsletters, magnets, and stupid bullshit reminders that he had money to sell. At one point, my now three and a half year old picked up one of the Mortgage Devil's newsletters and without missing a beat said, "Isn't this your asshole boss?" Well put, little man. Well put.


Note: I did correct my son with respect to his language, but I did take the time to compliment him on his amazing insight into people's true personalities. Now you know.