July 14, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 14, 2014, on stage exposure.
Five years ago today: July 14, 2010, I get paid to teach.
Six years ago today: July 14, 2009, six-foot sewing machine.

MORNING
           The long-awaited auction day. I’m going in there blind. The sum total of what I’ve learned so far is that the auctions are difficult and unpopular. And that nobody has written a user manual, “The Truth About House Auctions”. For those who think I ‘ve gone stale on making money over the recent past, wait until you listen to what went on this morning. I understand the need for excitement .but you understand why I cannot supply that every day.

           Pictures are a little easier to come by. Here is the Toyota parked by a river. This is the kind of area I want to live. Big old oak trees, like a shady canopy, cool on a hot summer day. Shown here is a little park along the Peace River, in Florida. This is the general area in which we looked for houses. And to which we looked for our first-hand knowledge of auctions. (This photo was hour after the auction when we stopped to stretch our legs.)
           We were totally bamboozled by the auction this morning. After an early (before 5:00AM) start, we arrived at our chosen destination (that destination is not revealed here). We arrived with plenty of pre-conceived notions what an auction was all about. What I’m about to reveal is not the auction process, but our reaction to that process which, as we had early predicted, was basically and practically bullshit. The entire process in no way resembles a real auction. It is borderline fraud to call these events an “auction”.
           Those of you who want to learn a thing or two, pay close attention to the following report. Keep in mind, the rule book does not prepare you for what to expect. That is why I spent $180 to find out—and that is confined to how things are done in one small town. The system seems to change between venues, but this is the one we chose, the test case.
           First lesson: the amount you intend to bid is revealed to the clerk of the court (and thus every possible instance of corruption) by the requirement to present a 5% deposit of the maximum you intent to bid. While this is only as honest as the clerk, we seem to have found an honest one. But only because she was so young and new at it.
           This 5% cannot be cash, but rather a “cashier’s check”. Watch your ass, the majority of places that call themselves banks will NOT sell you this perfectly legal instrument. The usual excuse given is a simple “No”, or that you do not have an account at that particular branch. Odd, because we were offering cash. Remember, we showed up cash-rich because the auction directions said “cash only”. Obviously they lied, though I doubt they would admit such a glaring inaccuracy constituted a lie. Nor did they do so, or feel any need to do so.

NOON
           We are not blaming the little town we picked. We found that every cog in the machines was diligently doing their own little job. The courthouse clerks who demand that cashier’s check had no idea whatsoever where such a thing was available. It was not available at Wells Fargo or any local credit union, who still dare to call themselves a “financial service”. These places pretend to be banks, but won’t help anyone in the slightest unless you open and maintain an account. “Member services only”, they will not even give you change for a fifty. This is un-American.

           This photo? It has nothing to do with the purpose of this trip, but it represents the mood we were in after this morning. Show is the typical summer afternoon rainshower that forms south of Lake Okeechobee on most tropical summer days. What’s more, these storms are big, around twice the size of a similar cloud formation out on the prairies. However, the clouds are also higher in the sky and in this case it did not rain at all.
           Now, let’s go back to the auction this morning. We made it back to the court doorsteps barely in time—we almost missed out completely finding a place to sell us this cashier’s check. I know, this is the part you want to hear about. Well, it is a farce. There is no “auction”. We kind of suspected that, so instead of scattering (as the auction conductors expected), we stuck around and watched the entire activity. We saw a lot, learned a lot. This was worth the experience.

           As predicted, we found out most of what was important. None of it was listed in the rulebook or the instructions. Next, I will describe exactly how we got faked out (not fooled). Yep, the system in place is designed to swindle you, but of course, entirely within the law. That’s what makes it a swindle. No single person in the process could be either accused or convicted of wrong-doing. But I should remind you of how closely this situation resembles my family, where each person is only stealing a little, not enough to blame them individually. So I have experience dealing with such low-level dishonesty, JZ does not.
           I’ll provide only the highlights of how we lost. We were, according to the court, the ONLY persons present who provided proof of a 5% bond (the other 95% due by day’s end). Hence, there should have been be nobody bidding against us. Wrong. There is a provision for a bank shill to be there to bid on every property, and he possesses a private list of the maximum price he can bid. He does not tell you what that is, but I quickly learned to figure it out. It is 60% of one of the numbers on the courthouse printout, which is different than the one I was able to print out.
           Where we failed (got faked out) was that the shill (fake bidder there working for the bank) has a list of the price up to which he is “authorized” to bid. It was many times the amount we could offer (remember, your maximum has been tacitly declared by the amount of the required cashier’s check deposit. Are you still with me here? I’m saying somebody in the courthouse loop knows precisely what the maximum amount you can bid is to the penny and you have no idea what the bank shill can pay. Under this circumstance, only pure luck will allow a beginner to get any bargains.
           He is there to keep the auction prices as high as possible. This turns the auctions into a circus. An absurd farce. If you expect to get anywhere, you must devise a scheme to work around this institutionalized manipulation. Imagine, the bank being allowed to attend the auction it is conducting, and you will be right about the honesty of the situation. JZ is dismayed, I view it as just another opportunity ripe for the plucking.

AFTERNOON
           We had little choice but to walk away, since the opposing bidder could go as high as $80,000. But I want you to think about what just happened there. I mean, I spend hours on it so far. I could give up or start figuring a way to beat these people at their own game. Yes, it is a game, and not even that elaborate of one. JZ and I are not natural crooks, but there is tremendous pressure from the system to become one if you want to succeed. We did not make it that way.

           I insisted we drive to the place we are most familiar with in the interior, which is downtown Arcadia. That is also where we are likely to target an auction once we develop a strategy and I need JZ to know his way around. Here he is pointing to a deli, where we went for coffee and brunch to talk over this morning’s situation.
           JZ is steamed and I am disappointed. So steamed, he was cussing out loud, so I calmed things down by betting him $5 that nobody, repeat nobody, who works for a bank is going to outsmart us in the long run. That I will have a realistic plan to present him within 48 hours. The purpose of our journey was fact-finding, and we certainly accomplished that. Plus, I bought us some $20 meals, which can always take one’s mind of the troubles. Yes, I felt like cussing, too.
           Tomorrow, when I’ve cleared up the clutter and have had a chance to assimilate this knowledge, you may drop back for a quick report on what went wrong in better retrospect. Right now, we are understandably not happy about being so deviously and blatantly mislead. Auction, my eye.
           Trivia. Three quarters of people who have an on-the-job accident skipped breakfast that morning. Notice, I rarely bother to cite my quotes, but I assure you, they are all redacted from sources I think are trustworthy. In this case, that quip is from the “Bathroom Reader”. If you can’t believe them, what are you going to trust?

EVENING
           I’ve already analyzed the procedure and yes, we did get faked out. I’m working on counter-measures already, but there simply has to be a reason the bank tries to discourage people at the auctin itself. Do you follow what I’m saying, if the bank could, I’m certain they would not behave like they do because it costs them money to do it that way. I am a financial insider, I have a good idea of what it costs. So, I must figure out why the bank bothers, even against bidders like us, who they knew did not stand a chance.
           Think of it this way. If the other man in a race knows you cannot possibly win, why is he there ready to pounce if you even enter the race? Does that make sense to you? JZ walked away thinking we cannot win, I walked away convinced that is exactly what the bank wants us to think. And I intend to figure out why that is. I mean, we were beat fair and square—but by bank and court accomplices, I guess is the best word.


Last Laugh


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