I spent more time choosing groceries than buying my first home

It took around 50 viewings, eight failed offers and three mental breakdowns, but I have finally bought a home, and I decided to do so after just a four-minute viewing.

After eight months of searching, I was throwing offers at any unit that vaguely fitted my needs. In Sydney, amid the unfulfilled promises of a cooling housing market, you’re lucky to get what you’re given. It is a desperate game of snakes and ladders, and it doesn’t end when your offer is accepted.

Like the average Sydney home owner, nearly two-thirds of my income will go towards servicing my new home loan.

When a real estate agent called about a 1960s apartment being sold off-market, I was convinced it would be out of my budget and initially refused the viewing. The agent convinced me the seller wanted a quick and quiet sale (Looking is free, as many agents told me – so long as you don’t consider your time to be worth anything.)

So I zoomed around the apartment, walking so quickly that the video I took of the unit’s layout made me motion sick to watch. I put in my highest offer, expecting yet another Dutch auction to shatter my prospects for the ninth time.

A few hours later, my offer was accepted.

I could barely remember what the inside of the apartment looked like. I had no idea of the area’s zoning, which company was managing the strata, or even which decade the building was constructed. Then and there, I had to pay a 0.25 per cent deposit to lock down my offer and reverse engineer my due diligence.

I’ve spent longer debating which frozen dumplings to buy at the supermarket than committing to a mortgage that ends two years before I’m eligible for the pension. It was a quick decision – but I’d do anything to get out of the rental market.

I’m part of the growing cohort of Millennials purchasing property “alone” (or alongside the bank of mum and dad). According to Commonwealth Bank data, Millennials made up 46 per cent of new property investors in 2023. Almost one-third of all Millennials purchased their investment property on their own, with single women driving some of that trend.

I also had to immediately commit to placing myself under mortgage stress. Despite draining a decade’s worth of savings and taking on a 35-year mortgage to secure a higher loan offer, nearly 60 per cent of my income will go toward my apartment for the foreseeable future.

This isn’t uncommon: According to the latest ANZ CoreLogic Housing Affordability Report, the portion of income required to service a mortgage has hit a serious high. While a decade ago, the average portion of income to service a new loan was 34.6 per cent, it’s now 48.9 per cent. In Sydney, that figure is 59.9 per cent.

But dedicating two-thirds of my pay packet to a mortgage is a privileged position to be in. Like about half of all first-time home buyers, my parents contributed a loan. My property purchase wouldn’t be possible without their help, which has given me a huge leg up – and further entrenches intergenerational inequality.

Saving for a mortgage while stuck in the rental merry-go-round is also near impossible. The same ANZ report found the portion of income required to service rents has hit 32.2 per cent for medium-income households, and 54.3 per cent for low-income earners.

I’m paying two and a half times more for my apartment than I was to rent a three-by-four-metre room in a share house in Marrickville. It’s an asset I get to keep, but when sitting in my living room, I can’t help but count the parquet floor tiles and wonder about the value of each small square.

Joining the property ladder was an awful, taxing process that took more energy and money than I thought possible, and it didn’t end when my offer was accepted. On top of deciphering legal contracts, building reports, and strata minutes, the back-and-forth on whether the NSW government would override planning powers in my desired suburbs, coupled with changing flight paths and the back-and-forth on the RBA interest rate, added layers of complications.

Less-than-perfect solicitors (who later agreed to give me a 50 per cent discount on their fees due to myriad problems) made a stressful situation even more taxing. Throughout the journey, it was two steps forward and one step back in a bizarre, competitive and deceitful industry, but finally, I am on the property ladder.

I have less money but more time, with the five to 10 hours a week I was spending on the property hunt now free to spend as I choose – perhaps on deliberating dumplings or counting my floorboards.

Amber Schultz is a reporter for The Sun-Herald in Sydney.

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