Sold in Spite Of: The Life, Times and Confessions of a Career Estate Agent

By James Golightly

The author is a recently retired career estate agent whose buisness life spans the period between 1959, when he joined a multi branch West Surrey firm as a trainee chartered surveyor to 2006 when he finally called it a day and retired in the general direction of the golf course.

Between his first day and his last he held just about every position conceivable in the world of estate agency from Tea Boy to Chairman and finally self employed founder of what is now a sizeable independent firm of thriving estate agents. It is interesting to note that the first office opened in as big downturn in the market as is evident now in 2008.

Amongst other things, the book deals with all the scams and dodgy practices perpetrated by the less noble brethren in the fraternity which the author has had a great deal of experience having been appointed Compliance Officer of the local governing regulatory body, the West Surrey Association of Surveyors Auctioneers & Estate Agency Agents (WSA).

The book will make an interesting read for anyone involved with or contemplating, buying or selling a property which encompasses the majority of the population at some stage in their lives. It will give valuable insight as to what can happen to the uninformed buyer or seller and enable them to keep their guard up in what can truly be described as a minefield in todays uncertain world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781466958739

James Golightly

Born in the middle of the Second World War James Golightly attended Wolverhampton Grammar School followed by the Royal Grammar School, Guilford in Surrey, hi father, a solicitor, having been appointed Secretary of the London Electricity Board precipitating the move south. Training initially as a charted surveyor he switched into residential estate agency and after many years as a director of what became, and still is, the largest firm in the country, co-started his own firm, Seymours, in January 1992. There are currently nine branches in and around the Guildford area. He has to date written two childrenÕs books which have been published entitled Witch Snatchit & Mr Grabbit and More Adventures of Witch Snatchit & Mr Grabbit. He currently lives in retirement on the banks of the river Wey in the village of Old Woking in West Surrey.

Book preview

1

THE BEGINNING

Every property scam I have ever come across is detailed in the following pages and, believe me, over the years I have seen them all. I have seen the dodgiest of them sent to jail and a lot more of them who should have been sent there. If you want to cut to the chase and see them chronicled go straight to chapter nine. Otherwise, read on and take on board how a series of events led me into the world of estate agency and my experiences therein.

I came into the world on November 18th 1941 and what a world to come into. The Second World War was in full swing and things were not going well-not well at all. From time to time bombs rained down on Wolverhampton, where we lived, despite the fact that there was nothing of particularly strategic importance that I recall. The only things of any size were Molyneux Football Ground, home to Wolverhampton Wanderers and Davenports Brewery and the Germans missed them both. I later learnt that they thought they were bombing Birmingham which is twenty miles down the road and packed with munitions factories. No satellite/navigation systems in those days or perhaps they had the map upside down.

I lived with my mother and twin older sisters (Anne and Jennifer) together with a pretty sixteen year old live-in nanny called Doris who rolled up on our doorstep one day asking for a job having run away from home. They weren’t called au pairs in those days. My father, who was a solicitor and Deputy Town Clerk, was away in India having enlisted in the RAF. His presence there obviously had the desired effect because the Japanese, who he had been sent out to deal with, rather unsportingly failed to turn up. As an officer he spent rather a lot of time at The Bombay Cricket Club and generally enjoyed himself whilst we at home, together with the rest of the country, suffered the privations of rationing, bombs, and, until the Coca Cola brigade from America joined in, an uncertain view of victory.

1945 eventually brought an end to the war and the return of my father, his uniform dripping with medals, which he presumably got for his cricketing, swimming and boxing prowess as there was no war going on within a thousand miles of where he was stationed. He had been away for almost four years so my mother had to get to know him again, never mind the rest of us. He came bearing gifts, my mother getting a zircon brooch which he had acquired from somewhere, my sisters a doll each and I was presented with a pair of boxing gloves. Until I was sixteen I was made to go three rounds with him every evening. He never asked me after this time as on the final occasion he sailed out of the front door which was fortunately open at the