Sheltering in Place
When my client and I walked through the vacant property in Long Beach, we were impressed by the natural light that filled the kitchen and were delighted by the quaint layout of the older home. My client really wanted to purchase one of the cottage homes so prevalent in downtown Long Beach, and this one was very cute but off a fairly busy main thoroughfare, and it was vacant. The windows were nailed shut--couldn't be raise--and there were double locks on the front door. We meandered toward the outside, and as we walked down the back steps, we noticed some damp clothing hanging off the railing. Hmm. We also noticed the door into the garage was open. Not knowing exactly what we'd find, we tiptoed through the door to discover a homeless shelter had been created in that space. There was a wine bottle languishing half full on a dirty blanket, some orange peels, a couple of empty cans and a candle sitting lopsided from having melted unevenly. More woman's clothing was strewn around the space and the sink in the garage was dripping water. This was home to someone.
Southern California is a good place for the homeless to live as the climate is so mild most of the year, and we are accustomed to seeing them everywhere. The disconcerting thing about it for me, as a realtor on that day, was it is illegal for the homeless to squat on a property, entering in stealth and bringing candles that could torch an older structure in an instant. In light of this, I called the listing realtor to let him know there was a homeless person living in the garage.
As my client and I were leaving the property, a young woman rode up the driveway on a bike, stopped to open the gate then accessed the backyard of the home. "I think that is our homeowner," I told my client with a smile. "I would like to speak to her if you'd wait for me for a minute."
The homeless woman was shocked to see me when I walked through the gate. She was sitting on the back step, soaked in sunlight, tears streaming down her face, earbuds in her ears. I smiled. When I began to speak, she took out her earbuds and listened. "You look distraught," I said. "Are you okay?"
She looked at the ground, the tears still coursing down her cheeks and onto the hot concrete steps.
"May I pray for you?" I asked next.
She wanted to know to which God, so I explained I was a Christian. That must have been all right with her, so I prayed she'd find peace, resolve her heartbreak and find a shelter to take care of her. Because there are so many homeless in our area, there are also an abundance of shelters. The woman sobbed as I prayed. But when I'd finished, she wasn't forthcoming about her plight.
"I'm aware that you've been sleeping here," I said.
"No..." she began then stopped as I was looking at the wet clothing she'd just washed lying on the porch.
"You know you can't break into a home and set up house there," I said. "I don't know how many days you've been here, but you need to leave now. I'm a realtor and have just taken my client through the home. I was alarmed enough to call the realtor who listed this home about the squatting taking place in the garage, and he will likely call the police. I don't want you to be arrested or cited, ma'am."
The woman looked a little panicked--I could see her mind racing. "I just washed my clothes. That's all."
"I understand," I replied. "But this would be like you just wandering into someone's home when they are away and using the washer. That's breaking and entering."
She moved off the porch and toward the garage where her belongings were as she wiped the tears from her face. My client was patiently waiting for me in the car, and I had to leave.
"Here," I said as I handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Please find a safe place in one of the local shelters. There should be people there to help you." She seemed shocked by this and grabbed my hand, crying again. I think more from the humanity of the situation than the money. Someone saw her for a few minutes.
Bottom Line: There are sometimes surprises awaiting us as we go about the business of real estate.
Human situations--greeting the needs of another with as much grace as possible while doing our fiduciary duty to our clients and other realtors--might test our hearts as well as our professionalism. The other realtor was very grateful to me for letting him know about the situation in the garage because, although it didn't make a difference to my client (who didn't buy the house), it certainly could've prevented the sale of his listing.
Southern California is a good place for the homeless to live as the climate is so mild most of the year, and we are accustomed to seeing them everywhere. The disconcerting thing about it for me, as a realtor on that day, was it is illegal for the homeless to squat on a property, entering in stealth and bringing candles that could torch an older structure in an instant. In light of this, I called the listing realtor to let him know there was a homeless person living in the garage.
As my client and I were leaving the property, a young woman rode up the driveway on a bike, stopped to open the gate then accessed the backyard of the home. "I think that is our homeowner," I told my client with a smile. "I would like to speak to her if you'd wait for me for a minute."
The homeless woman was shocked to see me when I walked through the gate. She was sitting on the back step, soaked in sunlight, tears streaming down her face, earbuds in her ears. I smiled. When I began to speak, she took out her earbuds and listened. "You look distraught," I said. "Are you okay?"
She looked at the ground, the tears still coursing down her cheeks and onto the hot concrete steps.
"May I pray for you?" I asked next.
She wanted to know to which God, so I explained I was a Christian. That must have been all right with her, so I prayed she'd find peace, resolve her heartbreak and find a shelter to take care of her. Because there are so many homeless in our area, there are also an abundance of shelters. The woman sobbed as I prayed. But when I'd finished, she wasn't forthcoming about her plight.
"I'm aware that you've been sleeping here," I said.
"No..." she began then stopped as I was looking at the wet clothing she'd just washed lying on the porch.
"You know you can't break into a home and set up house there," I said. "I don't know how many days you've been here, but you need to leave now. I'm a realtor and have just taken my client through the home. I was alarmed enough to call the realtor who listed this home about the squatting taking place in the garage, and he will likely call the police. I don't want you to be arrested or cited, ma'am."
The woman looked a little panicked--I could see her mind racing. "I just washed my clothes. That's all."
"I understand," I replied. "But this would be like you just wandering into someone's home when they are away and using the washer. That's breaking and entering."
She moved off the porch and toward the garage where her belongings were as she wiped the tears from her face. My client was patiently waiting for me in the car, and I had to leave.
"Here," I said as I handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Please find a safe place in one of the local shelters. There should be people there to help you." She seemed shocked by this and grabbed my hand, crying again. I think more from the humanity of the situation than the money. Someone saw her for a few minutes.
Bottom Line: There are sometimes surprises awaiting us as we go about the business of real estate.
Human situations--greeting the needs of another with as much grace as possible while doing our fiduciary duty to our clients and other realtors--might test our hearts as well as our professionalism. The other realtor was very grateful to me for letting him know about the situation in the garage because, although it didn't make a difference to my client (who didn't buy the house), it certainly could've prevented the sale of his listing.
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