Last week, for example, I was showing houses to a buyer. We were walking through one home that they particularly liked, and we had probably worn out our welcome with the amount of time we had taken in the home.

Right before we were about to leave — you guessed it — the seller popped through the front door. Generally, we try not to have both the buyer and seller in the same room for a variety of reasons. It’s not that anyone means harm, but emotions tend to run high when it comes to houses. Buyers are quietly judging every choice the seller made, and sellers can’t help but take it personally. Still, there we were — everyone smiling politely in that uneasy way.

We offered our apologies for the delay, while she expressed regret for arriving prior to the completion of our walk-through. Everyone forgave everyone else and pleasantries were exchanged by all. Just as we were putting on our shoes to walk out the door, I asked her, with no intent other than small talk, where she was moving. Unfortunately, sometimes one innocent comment can change the tone of a negotiation before it even starts.

She told us a heartbreaking story about her long marriage coming to an end and how she wasn’t sure where she was going next, only that she wouldn’t have room for any of the large furniture still left in the home. She even mentioned an item that was not currently in the home that she would be willing to part with as well.

Honestly, since both one of my clients and I had been through the end of long marriages ourselves, our hearts truly went out to her. But it also wasn’t lost on us that she had nowhere to put her furniture in her next chapter. As it happened, my clients had recently sold their home in another state — and part of that sale included most of their furniture. So naturally, they were interested in what she might be leaving behind.

That moment when empathy met opportunity was quietly powerful. It made me wonder: in real estate, is everything truly negotiable? Or are some things shaped more by human connection than contract? We were standing in that living room, surrounded by years of memories and pieces of furniture that told a story of a life lived. For the seller, those items were both a burden and a part of her history. For my clients, they saw a chance to fill their new home with something tangible and meaningful, without starting completely from scratch.

It wasn’t just about price or closing dates anymore. It was about understanding needs — emotional needs, logistical needs, and sometimes even unexpected opportunities that can transform a simple transaction into something more personal. That day, the line between buyer and seller blurred, and the negotiation became something more than numbers on a page. It also became much more complicated than anyone could have ever expected.

That evening, we wrote an offer on the home. It was a good offer, an offer that felt like a possible win for everyone involved. We also included a separate Personal Property Transfer Agreement and Bill of Sale with the contract asking for a number of existing furnishings in the house including the item she volunteered to include. We sent the offer over to the selling agent.

The next morning, I received a phone call from the listing agent: “What is all this personal property request about? Are these deal breakers? Why are they asking for half of everything in my client’s house, including an item that isn’t even there? Help me understand this. It doesn’t make sense.”

It quickly became clear that his client had failed to mention our earlier conversation. What had been a heartfelt discussion the day before now became a point of confusion — and tension — in the negotiation.

I replied to the agent that we had met his client, and she had volunteered to part with the items we were asking for. Win-win, right? Not so fast. What followed was a careful dance of clarification, reassurance, and negotiation. The listing agent wasn’t just concerned about the specifics of the request — he was concerned about process, communication, and the appearance of fairness to his client.

Suddenly, what had started as a seemingly simple agreement became a lesson in how fragile and complicated negotiations can be when emotions, expectations, and misunderstandings collide.

What complicated matters even further was the fact that there had not yet been a proper and formal division of assets in the divorce decree. Legally, neither of the sellers was truly in a position to negotiate or transfer ownership of the unattached items without the other’s consent. What had started as an empathetic exchange now became a legal and ethical question about who had authority to make those decisions.

The conversation shifted quickly. We discussed timelines, possible contingencies, and how best to protect all parties’ interests while honoring the spirit of what had been offered. It was a reminder that in real estate, negotiation isn’t just about price–it’s about understanding the deeper context, the unseen barriers, and the human elements behind every request.

In that moment, the question resurfaced: Everything is negotiable — or is it? Sometimes the answer depends less on what’s written in a contract, and more on timing, trust, and the realities behind the transaction.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com