This time I want to tell you the story almost word for word as I heard it from Oren, who this week sent the office a big package of fruit and other snacks.
At various social events, or in small talk before a work meeting, I kept hearing about people buying apartments abroad. I didn't really understand what the big deal was, and then, some time ago, I started seeing ads on television from companies marketing apartments and villas in Cyprus. It really intrigued me, and I called the star-code number that appeared on the screen, but the price was too steep for me, so I didn't even go to a meeting.
Until one evening, while I was browsing the internet, an ad popped up from a company marketing apartments in Greece, and it caught my eye. I don't know what it was, the wording, the design. I left my details, and the next morning a pleasant young woman called and invited me to a meeting to hear more. She told me the company was Israeli-owned with a branch in Athens, and she refused to give more details. She only asked a few questions to understand, as she put it, whether I had enough capital so that we wouldn't waste each other's time. I liked that.
I arrived at the offices in the B.S.R. complex in Bnei Brak. The view toward the Tel Aviv coastline was stunning, the design was modern, a luxury office, and the young man who met me, in his late twenties, gave a polished presentation about an apartment building in central Athens with a view of the Acropolis and decorated balconies, and offered me a studio apartment on the third floor facing a small, charming square. The building would be sold entirely to investors and rented out to locals, and we could choose between long-term and short-term rental. He even gave me indications of the expected management fees and rental income for each option. He explained that there is a trustee Israeli lawyer for the transaction to whom my money would be transferred, and that he would pass it on to the company as the project progressed. We talked about the specifications. We even talked, if I remember correctly, about taxation in Greece and about the opportunity Israelis have regarding capital-gains tax (mas shevach) - to be honest, I didn't quite understand his explanation on that. He showed me photos of their previous projects, new, modern buildings that looked very impressive. He told me they were a major player in the Greek real estate market, with many years of experience. And then the pressure to sign began... because the apartments are being snapped up... because we're about to raise the price... because... and because... and because.
I truly don't know what happened to me, but after almost three hours of conversation and 2 cups of espresso, I signed the agreement and instructed a transfer to the trustee's account of 50% of the apartment's price. I felt a wave of excitement when I saw the pictures of the apartment. I imagined myself sitting on the little balcony, drinking Greek coffee and watching the sunset. The young man was so convincing that I almost convinced myself I was making the deal of a lifetime. But on the way home, I started to feel uneasy. Something didn't feel right.
When I got home in the evening, after I told my wife and she started asking questions, the doubts began to gnaw at me, but still, “the penny hadn't dropped.” She was angry that I had signed without consulting anyone, without letting a lawyer read what I was signing, without reading a little about the city and the neighborhood. I brushed off her complaints, but...
The next morning I woke up with my head full of questions: Who is the company that sold to me? Where exactly is central Athens? Is the apartment I bought marketable? Will it be registered in my name in the land registry (tabu) in Greece? What about the tax I'll have to pay? Do I need to report the purchase? How was I tempted to buy without checking? Who is this trustee? I walked around all day with these questions in my head. In the evening, on my way home from the office, I called a friend I remembered had also bought an apartment or a villa somewhere in Greece, and told him about the purchase and my worries. He gave me a proper scolding for my recklessness and for not consulting anyone, which only intensified my fears and anxieties. At the end of the call, after the deluge of cold water he poured over my head, I asked him: “OK, so what do I do now? How do I get out of this?”
“I'll send you the phone number of the lawyer who accompanied me in the deals I did in Greece. He knows the field there. Talk to him,” he said, and sent me your phone number. That's how I got to you.
Oren brought me a copy of the agreement he had signed. I tried to calm him down, and we arranged to meet two days later, after I had gone through the agreement (it was impossible to stretch it beyond two days. The man was a “bundle of nerves”).
The agreement I read was drafted carelessly or, perhaps deliberately, in a way that would leave the company a wide room for maneuver. It was not at all clear from the agreement how the purchase in Greece was being carried out - whether the company had bought or was buying the building and was selling Oren the apartment, or whether Oren would buy his apartment directly from the owner together with the other apartment buyers. As for the funds paid to the company, apart from the first payment meant for the purchase of the apartment or building, there was no detail on how and when they would be transferred to the company. The delivery date of the apartment was not set as a specific date, but as a certain number of months from the date of purchase of the property (which property? The building? The apartment? When exactly will the purchase take place?). When I looked on Google to locate the building, it turned out to be in a neighborhood not exactly close to central Athens (6 metro stops from Syntagma Square, for those who know it).
The next meeting with Oren was much harder than the first. The man, an experienced accountant with his own firm and quite a few clients, turned pale in his chair when I showed him the “holes” in the agreement.
“What do you want to do now?” I asked him at the end of my review.
“I need you to tell me whether there is a way to get more clarity on this deal, and then I'll decide whether to continue with the deal or find a way out of it,” he said, with the practicality typical of accountants.
That evening, after the meeting, Oren sent me a text message: I left your office feeling relieved. I knew I had done the right thing when I turned to you. Now all that's left is to wait and see what happens. In any case, I learned one lesson from this story: never sign a contract before checking all the details thoroughly.
Stories are based on real situations, with identifying details changed. Not legal advice.
Translated from the Hebrew original. עברית