To gazunder: to reduce the offer price of a property after agreeing to a higher one (usually immediately before exchange of contracts).
So there you have it. That is what has happened to us.
We accepted an offer of what we originally paid for our house, within a week of it going on the market. We also found ourselves our dream home… perfect for our family, perfect for our future. We allowed ourselves to dream: of long walks on the nearby beach; of cosy evenings by the fire; of dinner parties and space to move in the kitchen, finally. We had even argued about which school to send our 16 month old daughter to.
Before we went on holiday 3 weeks ago, our buyer threatened to pull out if we didn’t exchange contracts then and there. But we couldn’t. Our vendors weren’t ready. The solicitors calmed him down (or so we thought) and we arranged to exchange contracts on 14th June (yesterday). Of course, our solicitors didn’t calm him down: this was his intention all along.
That is what it is to gazunder. Otherwise known as, to screw someone over. It is hoped that by piling the pressure on, it lures your vendor into believing you are desperate to move. Then, when they are ready, you pull the rug from under them by offering them less than the agreed offer. The hope is that the homeowner will be so anxious to sell (so they themselves can buy their next home) that they will agree to the lower offer.
What the gazunder!! How can there be a verb for what that is? How can it be such a common occurrence that someone thought to give it a name?
What happens now? Well, we have told him to jog along. He can pay the price previously agreed, or he can pull out. That was 2 days ago. Since then neither the solicitors nor the estate agents have heard from him.
How can anyone do this to someone? How can someone come into a home, meet a family with a baby, and set out to screw them over? And it doesn’t just screw us over, it screw the family above us over too. If you are reading this and wondering about gazundering someone, don’t. Just don’t.
The emotional agony is hard to bare. I’ve wept this evening, and I doubt I’ll sleep tonight. My husband certainly won’t. And our little girl won’t get her big girl’s room, with her toys in there and a lovely Wendy house in the garden.