Three sentences. That is the length of a cold call once it becomes clear the person who answered is not the owner you dialed, and most agents get it wrong in one of two directions: they hang up mid-word as if caught doing something, or they keep going, pitching a stranger about a house the stranger does not own. The first is rude and the second is a solicitation to a person who was never on any list, and neither leaves the record in a state the next call can use.<\/p>\n
The wrong number is not rare. The number sourcing piece<\/a> explains that every purchased phone number is a name-to-phone match rather than a verified line, and that a share of every list, larger on older lists, rings a reassigned number, a relative, a former tenant or a stranger. So the wrong-party call is a call an agent makes every block, and it deserves a script as much as the one to the right party does.<\/p>\n I’m sorry, I think I’ve got the wrong number. I’m [your name], an agent with [your brokerage], and I was trying to reach the owner of a house on Alder Street. I’ll take this number off my list; is there anything you’d like me to know before I do?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n Sentence one owns the mistake, immediately, before the person has to say anything. Sentence two says who you are and why you called, because the person on the line is entitled to know who just dialed them and because a bare apology followed by a hang-up is what a scammer does. Sentence three tells them what happens next and gives them the floor, once, for whatever they want to say, which is usually nothing, sometimes “that’s my mother’s old number,” and occasionally “I’m his wife, he’s at work.”<\/p>\n Then you stop. The person’s answer sorts the call, and everything after it is short.<\/p>\n If the person offers nothing, there is one question it is fair to ask, and it is about the number rather than the household: “Do you happen to know if this number used to belong to someone else, so I can correct my records?” That question is about your data. Most people will answer it. Some will not, and the record is corrected either way.<\/p>\n The unfair questions are the ones that treat a stranger as a source. Who lives at the Alder Street address. Whether the owner still lives there. What the owner’s new number is. Whether they know the owner. Each of those asks a person who never agreed to talk to you to give up information about someone else, and a person who has just been told they were dialed by mistake is right to refuse. The do-not-call rules<\/a> do not carve out wrong numbers; the call was a solicitation the moment it connected, and the person on the line can end it, ask never to be called again, and expect both to be honored.<\/p>\n The stranger.<\/strong> The number was reassigned, and the person has no connection to the house. Three sentences, the one fair question if it fits, and the record’s outcome is “not the owner.” The property is not dead. The number is. The record releases the address for a new phone match and the number goes on a list that is never dialed for that address again.<\/p>\n The relative.<\/strong> “That’s my dad’s house, this is my number.” A relative is not the owner and cannot be pitched, but a relative who volunteers the connection has opened a door that the fair question walks through: “Is there a better way to reach him, or would you rather I didn’t?” If they offer a number, it is recorded as offered by a relative and the first call to it opens by saying so. If they decline, the record releases for a rematch and nothing further is asked.<\/p>\n The spouse.<\/strong> “He’s at work, I’m his wife.” In most households that is a co-owner, and a co-owner belongs on the call as much as the person you dialed. The call continues, as the ordinary script, addressed to her, with one adjustment: “Then you’re the person I should be talking to anyway.” Do not ask for the husband. Do not ask when he will be home. The person on the line owns the house too.<\/p>\n The former tenant or the renter.<\/strong> “We rent here,” or “we moved out of there last year.” The renter piece<\/a> has the thirty seconds for the renter who answers, and the former tenant gets the three sentences and a release. Either way the parcel’s owner is somewhere else, and the record’s job is to send the address back for an owner match.<\/p>\n The relative of a deceased owner.<\/strong> “She passed away in March.” Stop. Condolences, in one sentence, unrehearsed. No question. The number is closed, permanently, for that address. The house may or may not be in probate, and if it is, the probate piece<\/a> explains why the person who can speak for it is named in a court filing, not on a phone list, and why the decedent’s number is the one that must never be dialed again. The record notes the date and the reason and nothing else.<\/p>\nThe three sentences<\/h2>\n
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The one fair question, and the unfair ones<\/h2>\n
The five kinds of wrong number<\/h2>\n