I.
I replaced Lady Gaga at a friend’s open mic party. She got an offer to have dinner with George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Johnnie Depp, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, so she called in sick. I don’t sing and dance. I sell real estate. And I tell stories. I don’t kiss and tell; I close escrows and tell. It’s called “Realtors Revenge.”
Names have been changed to protect the guilty….and the guilty should be glad I’m not posting their photos, but after all, I have a heart…..
I helped friends of mine sell their house. They are both artists so it was clever and charming, if small. The house sold quickly, with several offers. We had a smooth escrow and closed in thirty days. Six months later I got a call from Mrs. Seller, “I just found a check for $20,000. What should I do with it?”
“Well,” I drawled….”You could endorse it over to me.”
“No, really, should I give it back to the title company?” asked Mrs. S.
“Who’s it made out to?” I asked.
“Us,” she said.
“It’s okay to go ahead and deposit it.” I told her, honest agent that I am….and for $5,000.
I won’t disclose who she is….but for $10,000….
II
Helen called me, introduced herself and described the type of home she was looking for. I told her I’d set up some viewings for several properties. We made an appointment to meet.
When we got together I mentioned her last name and told her I’d had a brilliant college professor by the same name. “Yes,” she said, “He’s my cousin. Everyone in the family is either a genius or a schizophrenic.”
“How interesting,” I said.
We got into my car, headed for the first property. She started talking. She said she lived in Milpitas, wanted to be near the ocean breezes. She told me that Gekkie was the name of her pet lizard, Fruit Loops were her favorite cereal, Acacias made her sneeze. She informed me why she shopped at Walgreens, why she bought regular gas instead of premium, why she loved Dean Martin and hated Jack Benny, where she went to kindergarten, high school and college, why she like her doctor and despised her dentist. She listed her favorite movies, albums and vegetables, told me how many aunts, uncles and cousins she had, told me her pet peeves and about her favorite childhood bunny. She jumped from one subject to another barely stopping for breath. There was no opportunity for me to participate in the conversation. I listened, nodded and tried to remember where to turn.
I’m a helpful, patient, codependent person by nature. I showed her many houses. I drove. She talked. It became clear to me that there was a pattern here….She didn’t seem interested in the properties we viewed. She seemed interested in reciting her grocery list.
After a long rainy afternoon of visiting nothing-she-was-interested-in-buying, we returned to her car in the downtown garage. I pulled into a space and stopped, motor running. She didn’t get out. She kept talking, talking and talking. By now I was tired, cranky and had a headache. It dawned on me that she was not going to stop talking. I gripped the steering wheel, turned my head toward her, glared her in the eye, and screamed, “Helen, you have to get out of my car!”
We never looked at property again. And I knew which one she was.