You’re a yacht broker and a good one. You’ve been in the business about twenty years and worked for some of the best houses West and East coast from Ardell, Alden, Northrop Johnson, Fraser, and finally East Coast Yacht Sales. Business has been way off so you need this deal in order to land a new house your wife and kids have set their minds on in Falmouth, Cape Cod. You’ve been renting in Yarmouth, Maine and it’s driving the wife up the wall. But this deal will settle accounts and you’ve been working for damn near five months with both parties. You have years of experience sailing and charter skippering big high end sail and motorsailers in the Caribbean and know these big Swans. The buyer wants the boat and business is forcing the owner to move on. It’s finally going to survey and I’m on the road at dark thirty heading for Newport, RI to the Newport Offshore Shipyard to look over this big Swan 65.
It had been raining but was now turning to freezing rain as I heard it nicking the windshield. This is going to be a really sucky day for this job. Sails were already shipped to the sailmaker for inspection and the underbody and engine survey were conducted earlier showing no issues at all. Couple of loose wet stanchion bases, anchor roller chock was froze up, two sheet winches stiff and dry and most of the sheets and various line about 50% due for replacement soon. Below deck revealed a couple hoses, possible chain plate leak, galley stove gimbal locks adrift, and bilge strum missing and some emerging pinhole leaks along the bottom seam of the stainless water-lift muffler. The trip aloft was windy and cold but nothing more than leaking anchor light gasket to write up. Slip out of my chair and overalls and go below where they are waiting for me.
So we are all setting around the big saloon table, me the broker, buyer and his wife, seller and a friend. I go over the few recommendations I have and give my little speech on the overall condition, sans the sails, and expected maintenance in the next few years. The buyers is almost giggly and proposes that we open up the bottle of 25 year old Cuban ‘Ron Aneijo’ Matusalem rum to celebrate that was in the liquor locker. The owner scrunches up his face and says something very close to ‘ no way buddy ‘ in a voice that is unmistakably hostile. The buyer is amiable and says, ah come on this is a special occasion, and even the broker chimes in I’ll buy you another bottle. The owner’s attitude is very odd almost scary to the buyers and broker and he tells the broker to “ stay out of this “ . Whoa ! I step up away from the dinette and blend into the background over at the nav station. The seller then goes into this diatribe how the bottle it’s not for sale. He has had it for many years and no “ wannabe yachtsman “ is going to open it.
By now the buyer and wife are standing up and say something like you were suppose to remove anything that was not included in the sale, so you can keep your -x-x+x-x-x-x bottle and your Dinty Moore stew cause this deal is OFF. They get up and leave. I’m watching the broker all this time and it was very hard watching him fall apart. When the owner stomped out I came over and and told him how sorry I was, but he has his head down on the table and I doubt he even heard me. Fact is if that seller has not taken the rum I’m sure the broker would have drank it with a little help from yours truly. I never really felt sorry for a broker before this, all the hours, weeks, calls, miles lost over a bottle of rum. He still has a wife at home and I sure hope she isn’t planning a celebration.
Rick
It had been raining but was now turning to freezing rain as I heard it nicking the windshield. This is going to be a really sucky day for this job. Sails were already shipped to the sailmaker for inspection and the underbody and engine survey were conducted earlier showing no issues at all. Couple of loose wet stanchion bases, anchor roller chock was froze up, two sheet winches stiff and dry and most of the sheets and various line about 50% due for replacement soon. Below deck revealed a couple hoses, possible chain plate leak, galley stove gimbal locks adrift, and bilge strum missing and some emerging pinhole leaks along the bottom seam of the stainless water-lift muffler. The trip aloft was windy and cold but nothing more than leaking anchor light gasket to write up. Slip out of my chair and overalls and go below where they are waiting for me.
So we are all setting around the big saloon table, me the broker, buyer and his wife, seller and a friend. I go over the few recommendations I have and give my little speech on the overall condition, sans the sails, and expected maintenance in the next few years. The buyers is almost giggly and proposes that we open up the bottle of 25 year old Cuban ‘Ron Aneijo’ Matusalem rum to celebrate that was in the liquor locker. The owner scrunches up his face and says something very close to ‘ no way buddy ‘ in a voice that is unmistakably hostile. The buyer is amiable and says, ah come on this is a special occasion, and even the broker chimes in I’ll buy you another bottle. The owner’s attitude is very odd almost scary to the buyers and broker and he tells the broker to “ stay out of this “ . Whoa ! I step up away from the dinette and blend into the background over at the nav station. The seller then goes into this diatribe how the bottle it’s not for sale. He has had it for many years and no “ wannabe yachtsman “ is going to open it.
By now the buyer and wife are standing up and say something like you were suppose to remove anything that was not included in the sale, so you can keep your -x-x+x-x-x-x bottle and your Dinty Moore stew cause this deal is OFF. They get up and leave. I’m watching the broker all this time and it was very hard watching him fall apart. When the owner stomped out I came over and and told him how sorry I was, but he has his head down on the table and I doubt he even heard me. Fact is if that seller has not taken the rum I’m sure the broker would have drank it with a little help from yours truly. I never really felt sorry for a broker before this, all the hours, weeks, calls, miles lost over a bottle of rum. He still has a wife at home and I sure hope she isn’t planning a celebration.
Rick
