Hope . . . kinda

So yeah, we’ve been transferred. It’s an ongoing part of the RCMP festival.

We’ve been at our current post for about 4 and a half years now, and it’s time to move on. In fact, it’s a little past time.

We’ve been in Manitoba for about 15 years. We’ve had our children here. We’ve been to the north, to the south, to the “big” cities and to the tiny towns. We’ve seen a Goldeyes game, experienced the Forks and had dinner and 529 Wellington. The wife’s been to Churchill and I’ve driven a 6-tonne snowmobile trail groomer across a frozen Lake Winnipeg, as the ice cracked beneath me.

We’ve been to a Hutterite Colony, driven the TransCanada from east to west and west to east. We’ve been to the Potato Festival, the Strawberry Festival and Islendingadagurinn, the August Long Weekend in Gimli that celebrates Icelandic Heritage in the area. Mostly, however, it seems to celebrate drunken stupidity and the violence that goes with it. 

But we’ve been transferred to British Columbia and we’re excited about it. It’s an unusual transfer, because the RCMP likes to keep it’s people in one province as much as they can. But we managed to make our case to the right people and, about six months ago, we got the coveted transfer order.

And, by the time the paperwork crawled through the system, last fall’s real estate market was well into its annual hibernation. So we’ve been waiting . . . enduring the occasional showing of our home . . . all through the winter.

I can’t talk much more about it, for fear of the toxic emotion known as hope. In a “down” real estate market, it’ll kill ya.

Suffice to say we are looking forward, with measured detachment, to the sale of our home. It’s the best we can muster for now.

That's Policy

The end is near . . . I hope.

The seas are becoming rough in what was once a calm-water voyage through the RCMP IRP. So, what advice do I have for those preparing to set sail? Read the freakin' IRP through two or three times. Make sure you understand every word. Because if you don't, it may come back to bite you in the ass.

Now I should warn you, if you plan to get into this boat and read on, put on a lifejacket and seatbelt. It's a long and rough trip.

Let's start with the appraisal on the Gimli house. When we were getting ready to sell, we were told that we needed an appraisal. I was worried about this at the time, because I was afraid the appraiser would undervalue my house, and then the CRSP would put pressure on to list it for less than I thought it was worth.

Fortunately, at the time, we ignored the advice of the realtor, put the house up for more than she suggested, and sold it in two days - before the appraisal was completed.

Now, I figured that the house was sold, no need for appraisal now. We know the market value - it is what it sold for. And so I continued by trip through the IRP process under that assumption. (And you know what they say about assuming!)

Throughout the sale, purchase and move, I contacted my CRSP regularly by phone and email. I asked if everything was in order, was there anything more I needed to do. I stayed on top of the process and all seemed to be going well.

And then came packing day. I got a call and an email from my CRSP telling me I needed an emergency appraisal on the house. This was on the Thursday before we left for Thompson (on Saturday). The reason, I was told, was that we had to pay the real estate commission on 119 acres of the land we sold. The IRP would pay the commission on the house and a little over 1 acre.

And yes, it's right there, plain as day, somewhere in the 105-page IRP. Missed that one.

Fair enough, says I. But why bother with an appraisal? Why waste the taxpayer's money? We know what it sold for, why not just decide on the split? I suggested 90/10, with 90 for the house and 10 for the land. It seemed pretty fair to me, based on discussions with the realtor prior to the sale.

No, no, no, says the CSRP. Policy dictates that we must spend money on an appraiser, have him decide what the house is worth and then just assign the rest of the asking price to the land. I didn't like that. But policy is policy and the RCMP and bureaucrats everywhere love their policy.

And so, I hired an appraiser for Tuesday - one day before possession of the Gimli home by its new owners. As I would be in transit, I asked the CSRP to make arrangements with the appraiser (the one she suggested) to have him pick up the keys at my lawyer's office on Tuesday and complete the appraisal. OK, said the CSRP.

And so, on Wednesday, I called to see who it went and how much of the real estate commission I would be choking on.

The appraisal didn't happen, my CSRP told me. Seems the appraiser, she said, went to pick up the keys and my lawyer had already given them away to the new owners. Did you tell the lawyer that the appraiser was coming? Yes, said the CSRP.

I was not impressed and called the lawyer's office to see what the heck happened. And I got another story. Seems the appraiser didn't show up at all on Tuesday. But called on Wednesday morning (possession day) at 10 a.m. (possession was at 9 a.m.) and therefore could not get the keys.

I phoned the CSRP back and, eventually, got talking with the "Team Leader," who explained that there was a foul-up, and that the appraiser had called my Real Estate agent for the keys on Tuesday and something went awry.

Exsqueeze me? How did the appraiser know who the real estate agent was? Why would he phone her? How on earth did this happen?

The Team Leader said she'd look into it and get back to me. In the meantime, from my house in Thompson, I would have to contact the new owners, get permission for the appraiser to come by and permission to give him their phone number to set up the appointment.

I was a little ticked off. And a flurry of tense emails and phone calls followed. I once again proposed a 90/10 split to put an end to this mess. It was once again rejected on three different levels. No, I was told, we need the appraisal, we need the permissions and we need them now.

Fine, I said, I will get the permissions and you can arrange the appraisal. This was agreed upon. On Monday, I contacted the new owners and got my permissions. I let the CSRP, Team Leader and RCMP Relocation Coordinator know and left it in the CSRP's capable hands. I'm still waiting to hear what happened.

Why am I so bothered by all of this? Well, in addition to all of the phone calls, emails and headaches, there is the financial impact. If I'd known that I was responsible for this portion of the real estate commission, I would have set aside money from the "Personal Envelope" to deal with it. But, as I did not see this storm coming, I allocated that money to a Mortgage Interest Buydown, and I do not have any left to cover this cost. That ticks me off.

So why am I telling you all of this? I guess it's a warning to others heading out on the IRP ocean. You have to know what has to be done. You can not rely on others to know it for you, or to protect you if they miss something. Be warned, be wary and read the freakin' 105-page IRP, as well as the 100+ pages of the CSRP document "It's your move." Know what they say, do what they say, and stay on top of everyone involved - bankers, real estate agents, lawyers and Contracted Relocation Service Providers. They may be there to assist you, but in the end, if there are mistakes, errors, ommissions, it's your ass, not theirs.

That's policy.

Waiting Sucks

Well that didn't take long. Those first folks who came by to see the house have put in an offer. And we've accepted it.

You know, I thought that would be a relief, but it's not. As with every real estate offer, there are a few conditions to be met before the deal closes. With this deal, the purchaser (that's what they call them - we're the vendor) wants to secure financing, have a home inspector look the place over, and do a test of the well water. Fair enough. I don't have any real concerns with any of those conditions.

Still . . .

This is the excruciating part. We have a deal in the works. We're thinking about the next step - the HHT (House Hunting Trip). But is there something that could go wrong? Of course. That's why Murphy wrote his laws.

We'd like the deal to close ASAP so we can get on with this process. But we must wait 10 days for these conditions to be met. I know that on the grand scheme of things, 10 days is nothing. But try waiting them out. It's driving me a little nuts.

--

Okay, one day left now. It's Monday and the deal expires tomorrow. This is killing me. Yesterday, we heard that the home inspector had "some concerns" with the septic bed. I don't know, specifically what those concerns are and that, too, is driving me nuts. Actually, it's pissing me off a little. We have never had any problems with the septic bed itself. We had one problem with the septic tank in our six years here. The pipe came off the tank two years ago. We had professionals come in, dig up the pipe, cut it back to solid pipe and replace it with new pipe. And all has been well. I don't understand the concern with the septic field. And now I have to wait to find out. I just hope that the inspector has a solid understanding of septic systems. Our real estate agent suggested that some inspectors, who are less familiar with septic systems, will "express concern" in order to cover their asses should something go wrong. I really, really hope that's not the case here.

We are also still waiting to hear the results of the well water test. Again, no concerns there. We have never consumed the well water, but we use it to wash our dishes, wash our hands, bathe, shower and cook. We had the well tested when we moved in and all was well then. No need to believe otherwise now. Still, you worry and you wonder.

Anyway, the deal expires at 3 p.m. tomorrow. The good news is that, should this deal fall through, I know of at least three others who are interested in the property. But it would be nice to get on with the process. The waiting sucks.

Transfer Time

Well word has come down from on high. We will be moving.

It's part of the joy that comes with being an RCMP family. You can expect to make more than the average number of address changes in your lifetime. It's part of the adventure you signed up for. But they say one of the bigger stresses in life is moving and having moved more than once already, I agree. Throw two kids under 4 into the mix . . .

So the word from on high is that we will be moving to the rollicking town of Thompson, Manitoba. For those of you unfamiliar, it's about 750 kilometres north of Winnipeg, Manitoba. It's the "Hub of the North," it's isolated and it's cold. Yeehaw! But they say the fishing's great - during the month or two that the lakes aren't frozen.

Today, I am feeling stressed. This house must sell for a reasonable price, I must find a new house in Thompson and we must move there. I have already checked out the housing prices and they are surprisingly high up there. One thousand square feet goes for between $200,000 and $300,000. Say it with me . . . Yeehaw!

So, gentle readers, that is what this blog will be about for the next little while. The trials and tribulations associated with moving to Canada's Siberia.

Today, the real estate lady came by to look over the house we now occupy. She believes we will maximize our profit by severing the house from the 120 acres property and selling each separately. Good news, I guess, but the severance process takes about 4 months. We will likely be moving in about 3 and a half months. A little something extra to clog the cogs of a smooth move.

The reason for the move, by the way, is that the wife has been accepted for training in the forensic identification program. That is the good news. That's the reason she joined, the reason she went to university. I am glad for her. But the wrinkle in this one is that while she is away in Ottawa training (7 weeks) I will have to sell this house and travel to Thompson, Sonwun and Sontoo strapped in the minivan, and buy another house. All together . . . Yeehaw!

Anyway, stay tuned. Things are going to get a lot more interesting in the months to come. I mean, where else can you (and why would you) read about someone moving to Thompson, Manitoba. Living the dream . . . living the dream.