More things that get my goat: Property Investors

I have to admit, nothing gives me satisfaction quite as much as being part of the process of bringing a person down a peg or two - particularly if said person is a bit of a douchebag.

Like property investors.

Not content with their new-found wealth, they always seem to be hungry for more and eventually take that one risk too many which the market cannot sustain. They are the very epitome of greed. Worse, they have the arrogance but without any actual talent. Kind of like the Kardashians.

And then, like the Right Hand of Karma, someone like me comes knocking at their door with documents of their pending bankruptcy or foreclosures.

Such as this morning for one Sarah Nichols* of Submarine Property Investments*.

Along with the documents, I was supplied with a copy of a full-page advertising feature from some glossy magazine featuring Sarah Nichols seated on a leather divan, a bottle of expensive champagne and flute at her feet. In the article she enthusiastically gushes that she believes the future is in property and it's the best thing for long-term financial security...

Oh dear, Sarah. Did you really think that? Doesn't seem to have worked out so well for you.

Anyway, she loves to travel and can't do without her Louis Vuitton and designer shoes.

I'm thinking you won't be travelling too far these days.

Interestingly, perhaps tellingly, is her comment that one of the safest and powerful ways to build wealth is through property because you don't need any cash to start.

Hmmmm, correct me if I'm wrong Sarah, but perhaps this philosophy might have led to your current predicament? Your bank is concerned that your exceedingly overdrawn account hasn't had any deposits made into it in quite some time, despite your numerous assurances, and that you have fallen quite behind in a number of mortgage repayments.

Hence the foreclosures.

Anyway, this morning I made my attendance to the registered office of Submarine Property Investments to find a gathering of well-dressed people sipping Veueve Clicquot and nibbling at hors d'ouevre. The men were wearing morning dress in blacks or greys, the women in tasteful dresses and elaborate hats.

Wedding? Funeral? No, it's Race Day!

I was immediately accosted by a florid-faced 'gentleman' sailing (at least) three sheets to the wind. What was my business, he enquired? By this stage everyone was staring at the stranger standing at the door who wasn't attired in a suit, as is customary amongst certain types on this very day.

"I'm looking for Sarah Nichols," I stated loud enough for everyone to hear.

The gatekeeper was in the middle of saying "Why, yes, she's right..." when a woman in the middle of the room dropped her champagne flute (it was full, I noted) and hurriedly interjected "She's not here right now".

Really? Because you look a lot like that person in the advert, I thought to myself.

However, I figured that I probably shouldn't embarrass her further in front of her distinguished guests. Well, any more so than I had already done so, in a conciliatory tone, stated "I'll be back later".

The fact that I've probably ruined her day, at the very least, brings a joyful smile to my face. I'll get her again tomorrow.

Meanwhile, she's spending the bank's money keeping up appearances of her affluent lifestyle.

* Not their real names, obviously.