Monday, March 16, 2009

Gwen's First New Column, As Seen on Agent

Come Out of the Closet!
Okay, let’s all be honest – we want everyone out there to see our business as professional and dignified, but I say, “TIME TO COME OUT OF THE CLOSET!” I have heard so many shocking reports of Real Estate high jinks that I decided to share them… and maybe add a moral or two to the mix just for grins. Yes, I’m talking naked women in closets, bats in the chimney, crime scene shockers, and a Mini Cooper in the swimming pool.
I live in L.A., and yes, we are the Mother Lode of Weird, but my first report actually comes from a Realtor friend of mine from back East (dubbed Slow Take) . When I tell you the facts of his memorable event, you’ll know why this hapless soul chooses to remain anonymous.
It seems Slow Take was showing his recently separated, lovely prospective buyer a home on the Jersey Shore. The sun was grinning, there was a lovely breeze dancing in from the ocean, and Slow Take was mentally computing what his commission check was going to look like. (Cue the horn section.) As he and his client looked around the lovely beach house, excitement mounted. Unfortunately, there was more excitement than just the vibration of Slow Take’s wallet.
Moral Number One:
When he heard the back door slam, he and his client paused, all senses on alert. After a few minutes and a cursory look out the back door, Slow Take decided the door had been left unlocked and had simply been nudged by the capricious ocean breeze. Moral Number One: Never Assume Anything – Especially in a Vacant Beach House. As they went on their merry way, the imaginary sound of cash from the ATM caused Slow Take to salivate and his step to quicken.
Moral Number Two:
By the time they reached the bedroom, the buyer was ready to write a check and Slow Take was mentally purchasing his first Mercedes. Then he opened the closet. Moral Number Two: Never Open the Closet After You’ve Heard a Strange Noise. (Doesn’t anyone watch those babysitter horror films besides me?) Yes, there was a half dressed woman in there, frozen in place as though embalmed – nice, huh? But that’s not even the good part of my friend’s story!
After the mutual screaming subsided and garments were gathered, Slow Take re-dressed himself in all his professional dignity and announced that he would have to call the cops because there was obviously some breaking and entering that had taken place. At that point, naked girl picked up her dignity along with her remaining clothing and said with the greatest of self assurance that there would be none of that. She had entered legally – with an agent from another office - with whom she had been enjoying some afternoon delight when they were rudely interrupted. Apparently the agent/lover had high tailed it out the back, leaving her there in all her nonplussed glory.
Moral Number Three:
Slow Take, not to be outdone on the self-assurance scale, demanded to know the agent’s name. Her lover was a new agent Slow Take hardly knew…but someone else in the room apparently did. His buyer gasped and ran like a rabbit on crack back to the car. You guessed it – it turns out that the fleeing agent was her philandering spouse. Slow Take, not too quick on the Up Take, thought his client had just had her sensibilities offended. It took a V8 and a smack to his head before he caught on. Moral Number Three: Don’t Ask Too Many Questions Unless You’re Jack Bauer.
Moral Number Four:
Needless to say, his client’s marriage broke up, but believe it or not, my friend still got the sale! His client had enough money of her own to buy a beach house, but she chose to purchase a different one with no surprises (like a blue dress with a spot) in the closet. My last moral is really for my own satisfaction: Moral Number Four: Never Have a Tryst with a Spineless Agent.
Coming Out of the Closet
Well I just retraced my steps, and it seems we have come full circle back to closets. (We’re coming out, remember?) So next week I’ll tell you about a story from my own office that involves a crime scene during caravan. And who says we don’t have fun? Until next week, remember my motto: SANITY’S NOT ALL IT’S CRACKED UP TO BE.

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