What Losing at Auction Taught Me About Buying Property
- Mar 1
- 6 min read
We lost the house in under a minute.
And I genuinely thought we were going to win it.
Let me tell you about the time we lost the house I desperately wanted to own.
Prefer to listen? Press play on the podcast below.
The back story...
We had already put in two offers before the auction. Both were rejected because the vendors wanted to “let the market decide.” The agent had told us there was only one other interested party, so we walked into that auction feeling quietly confident.
Finance was lined up. We had a clear walk away number. I had done all the searches, called the council about zoning questions I wasn’t sure about, researched the auctioneer and watched him run other campaigns so I could get a feel for how he operated. I had even attended other auctions just to observe other bidders - how they behaved and their body language... I wanted to understand the psychology of the room.
And if I’m being completely honest, I was already picturing us there. Morning coffee on the deck with my husband, the kids having friends over after school, and cooking in that beautiful kitchen. I had meditated on it. Visualised it. In my mind, it was ours.
When auction day came, we were so nervous.
We arrived ridiculously early, were the first registered, and felt a mix of excitement and dread once that paddle was in hand. I remember scanning the room thinking, where is this other buyer? The agent casually told us he had flown interstate for work and would be bidding over the phone.
I took that as a good sign. If he wasn’t in the room, surely we had the upper hand.
We also had an entourage with us. My parents, siblings, friends... They were our celebratory crew, ready for the hammer to fall in our favour, and the word “SOLD” to be called, so they could jump up and cheer for us in that function room.
Soon it was time for the auction.
The auctioneer said his preamble about the features of the property… Then it started.
We made the first bid. The auctioneer rejected it immediately. Said it was too low.
Then no one else bid.
So the auctioneer made a vendor bid.
My husband raised the paddle again. Then a higher number was called. The guy on the phone was bidding.
My husband put the paddle up again.
Quickly followed by the phone guy.
The auctioneer responded.
And in what honestly felt like thirty seconds, we were at our walk away number.
I could feel my brain scrambling. I was trying to calculate stamp duty in my head. Trying to mentally run through different borrowing scenarios. Thinking about our buffers... Wondering which pool of money we could pull extra funds from if we stretched.
We technically could borrow more, that wasn’t the issue. The problem was I’d left my spreadsheet with all our numbers on it at home, and I felt completely lost and overwhelmed without it. Why did I do that?!
I really wanted this house.
My palms were sweating. My heart was racing. Everything felt urgent and compressed, like we had seconds to make a life-altering decision.
And then, out of nowhere, a woman I had not even noticed earlier raised her paddle and made a bid.
I remember thinking, where did she come from? Why didn’t the agent mention her? Why is she bidding on my house?
The numbers kept climbing. At one point I asked the auctioneer, “Are we on the market yet?”
He said no. And that shocked me more than anything. We were already at a figure that felt high, and the reserve hadn’t even been met. I remember thinking, what on earth are these sellers expecting? Are they serious right now?
Then the auction paused. Because the market (meaning us and the other bidders) stopped raising paddles. The sellers’ reserve still wasn’t met. So the agents started darting around the room. One came to us. Another went to the woman. Another was negotiating on the phone with the interstate bidder. It felt chaotic and theatrical at the same time.
While the bidding itself had felt like a blur, this pause felt endless, and I couldn't think clearly.
Thankfully, my mum was beside me and she calmly pulled out her phone and opened the calculator.
Why hadn’t I thought to do that?
Seeing numbers on a screen steadied me. We whispered about adjusted repayments, buffers, and ran different scenarios. It helped to have something concrete to look at instead of just panic in my head.
My husband, meanwhile, sat next to me on the other side, holding the paddle firmly against his leg. He wasn’t raising it, he was thinking. I could see it in his face. The redness creeping in. The intensity. He wanted the house too. It was the only one out of all the places we’d inspected that genuinely felt right.
But he was thinking beyond the moment. Every dollar over our walk away number wasn’t just a bigger mortgage. It was more hours at work. More pressure. Fewer holidays. Less flexibility. Less breathing room. Less sleep.
And I will be honest with you, the urge I had to grab that paddle off him and raise it was overwhelming. I wanted to stay in the game. I wanted to push to our maximum borrowing capacity, even though we had already agreed we would not do that. I wanted to prove we were still serious. That we weren’t backing down.
Thank God I didn’t have the paddle. And thank God he looked at the auctioneer and said, “No, we’re out.”
That property sold for $80,000 more than we were willing to pay.
And we found out later that the vendors had wanted $130,000 above what our walk away figure was.
I remember I smiled as the hammer fell. I don’t even know how I managed it. The property was sold to the guy on the phone... And then we had to do the walk - the walk of shame. Past the agents who said, “I was really hopeful you’d get it”. Past other buyers. Out into the car park.
As soon as we were outside and my sister-in-law wrapped her arm around me, I cried.
I felt embarrassed. Humiliated. Like I had misread the whole situation. We had done everything “right.”
How did that happen? How did I not see that coming?
I cried for hours.
And then something shifted.
I got angry. Really angry.
Not the dramatic, throw-things kind of angry. But the kind that makes you draw a line in the sand. I realised I had been house hunting emotionally. I had convinced myself we had inspected hundreds of homes before that one. When in reality, it was seven.
Seven properties.
That night I built a spreadsheet. I listed every property we had inspected. The suburbs. Number of days on market. Features. Sale price (if it had sold)... And patterns started to appear.
When I looked at the data instead of my feelings, everything calmed down.
That’s when I set new rules.
I decided I would inspect five properties per week. No more. No less. I had no interest in burning out or feeling overwhelmed by inspections.
I also made a rule that I’d only look at properties within our price bracket. I refused to even look above it. I would check real estate websites on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings only, because that’s when new properties were listed in our area. And then one final check Saturday morning to make sure inspection times hadn’t changed. Then inspections. Off I went, to five only. Then done.
No more scrolling every spare minute. No more fantasy planning before we owned it. No more getting attached to something that wasn’t ours yet.
Within two weeks of house hunting this new way, we found the property we eventually bought. And that buying process was completely different. Calm. Strategic. Empowered. We were detached, and we negotiated well because we weren’t desperate.
Here’s what I learned.
Auctions are designed to serve the seller. They create urgency and emotion and competition. That doesn’t make them wrong. But as a buyer, especially a first home buyer, you need to know what game you’re walking into.
More importantly, data beats drama every time.
Buying property in Australia is emotional - and of course it is. It’s big money. It’s your future. It’s your lifestyle. It’s your sense of security. It can feel overwhelming, confusing and often like you’re behind. But you do not need to buy in chaos. You can set parameters. You can respect your walk away number. You can refuse to search above your budget just “to see.” You can track what is actually happening in your market instead of going off the mind games your fear is giving you.
Now looking back, I can see that we didn’t lose that house. We avoided overpaying for it.
If you’ve ever walked out of an inspection feeling deflated, or sat at an auction with your heart in your throat wondering if you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, I see you.
Comment below and tell me what part of this process has felt the hardest for you. And if you want to learn how to approach buying your first home strategically, without sacrificing your entire lifestyle in the process, join the waitlist for The First Home Finance Formula.
You do not have to play this game emotionally. You can play it at your pace, your way.
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