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I’m sitting at my desk going through a stack of papers and contracts and checks that somehow seemed to multiply exponentially when I was in California for a few days, and I just realized that I could save a lot of time if I stopped reading things and just started signing things willy-nilly.  And, given the number of not-so-discreet glares and throat-clearing “hints” from the administrative folks around here who are waiting for me to get my part of the job done so that they can do theirs, I discern that there are those in my office who think that I should just put pen to paper and get it all over with.

But here’s my problem:  I actually want to know what I’m signing.   As such, I actually have to read every word of every line of every paragraph because, to be honest, I rather assume that there is language in there somewhere with the potential of throwing me, my companies, my family, my friends, and the flowers along my front walk under the proverbial bus.  And I’d prefer to at least try to avoid it if at all possible.

And a few minutes ago, as I was about halfway through the second ridiculously complex contract that I’d been meticulously reviewing, I thought how much easier life would be if everyone got on board the transparent bandwagon.

I mean, what if this contract read:  “You promise to pay us, and we promise to do what we say we will”?   No loopholes, no hidden agendas—just a promise to do what is clearly spelled out.

Or what if Congress wrote a bill that said “This is what we want to do, plain and simple” rather than burying the intent in 1000 pages of who knows what with some hefty pork thrown in?  Certainly, it would seem to be helpful in avoiding the recent uprisings in town halls across the country—or at least give the “well-dressed protestors” a more specific topic at which to focus their derision.

But, I feel like I can’t download a song off the internet or buy a gallon of milk with my debit card without entering into a binding agreement that might ultimately result in the surrender of my first offspring.  And as you would expect, the bigger the purchase, the greater the fear of potential loss.

And that’s why I can’t help but wonder why anyone would ever work with a mortgage professional who didn’t believe in absolute mortgage transparency.  Who didn’t believe that his or her clients should know—up front—exactly what they were going to pay, and for what, and why.  Who provided this kind of information not because they HAD to, but because they WANTED to.  I mean, if you’re going to invest hundreds of thousands of dollars in a home, why wouldn’t you demand to work with someone who wanted to give you all of the information you needed—in a way that was easy to understand?    The fact is, I would.  And I hope that you would, too.

All right, I just got yet another glare from a certain staff member, so I’d better get back to it.  At the top of my stack is what appears to a 14-page reimbursement request she submitted which begins “For good and valuable consideration” and is riddled with “party of the first part” nonsense.  And I think I see something about a mental health day, a manicure and shoes in here.  Did someone just hear a bus headed my way?