(I’m a property manager. I’m showing a house for rent to a young couple. Having just been in the house to unlock and check it over, I cringe a little when I see the couple pull up and get out of their car. The man is very clearly wearing a collar that indicates he is a priest or pastor of some kind. I’m an atheist and don’t have a lot of good experiences with religious people, plus, I’m well aware of what the inside of the house looks like. They greet me very warmly, take their adorable toddler out of the backseat, and start commenting on how nice the street is.)

Preacher: “Shall we go inside? It’s in a great location, only a few blocks from my church! We’re so excited to finally take over our own church; our last one was a challenge.”

Me: “Uh, yes, but I have to warn you, it’s currently being used as a share house for a few university students.”

Wife: *laughs* “We’re no strangers to a bit of mess!”

(We walk inside the house and I brace myself for impact. Obviously the occupants of the house are an eclectic bunch, because in the lounge-room there is some kind of Wiccan altar set up, and nailed above the door is a Jewish star. Just inside one of the rooms there are mannequins set up with drag costumes hanging on them, several pictures of two young men dressed in said costumes, along with pictures of those two young men out of drag, kissing. The couple says nothing about any of this. They ask me about school districts, local shops, and other mundane questions about parking and ceiling fans. I relax more and more as they talk, and eventually they glance at each other and start laughing.)

Preacher: “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying, you walked in here as nervous as a lizard on a hot road.”

Wife: *still laughing* “Did you think we were going to flip out?”

Me: “Well, I wasn’t sure how you were going to react to all this. I mean, it is a lot…”

Preacher: *points at the Star of David and addresses his daughter* “What’s that, honey?”

Little Girl: “Star of David! Like Aunty’s necklace! And look, Daddy: those boys have pretty dresses! They’re in love!”

Preacher: “They sure do!”

Little Girl: “They gonna get married?”

Preacher: “I hope they can soon!”

(While the couple ended up going with a different house closer to their church, I will never forget the faith in humanity they restored for me that day. I feel like they are what Christians are supposed to be. I still see them regularly; their church rents a few of my houses as women’s safe havens and a halfway house for homeless in our area!)

Buyer: “We are looking at this house in the paper and we wanted to see it.”

Me: “Great. Can you give me the address? I can see if my buyer’s agent is available to show you the home.”

Buyer: “Well, we don’t want to work with an agent. We just want to see the house. We are planning to swing by it in 15 minutes. Is it unlocked so we can just walk inside?”

Me: *thinking to myself* “Of course, you moron. We always leave our houses unlocked so random people can walk into them at any time.” *speaking out loud* “I’m sorry, but all buyers need to be accompanied by an agent for liability reasons.”

Buyer: “But I don’t want to work with your agents. I just want to see the house.”

Me: *hangs head*

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I’m the idiot of this story. I need a substantial job to pay my bills, so I start searching. One of my friends tells me I’d make a good realtor, so I find a free information night at a realtor office. There are about fifteen people there, ranging from eighteen to seventy-five years old.

I immediately get labeled “Class Bigmouth” when the speaker writes on the board that his “Pet Peav” [sic] is having phones not on silent. I jokingly tell him that my pet peeve is misspelling and show him the proper spelling on my phone.

The speaker then talks about business realty and buying land for businesses, and how sometimes the business wants a certain type of land, and a good realtor will persuade the owners to sell their property if need be.

My status as “Class Bigmouth” already confirmed, I pipe up with a joke about “putting on a monster costume and hoping Scooby-Doo doesn’t show up.”

There is an absolute dead silence at this as I awkwardly try to explain the premise of Scooby-Doo to everyone. Eventually, we move on and I very quickly decide that the realtor life is not for me.

(I’m showing a prospective client around one of our condominium showrooms.)

Me: “All right, do you have any other questions?”

Customer: “Yes, does the unit come with a parking slot?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. All of our condominiums come with at least one parking slot.”

Customer: “Can I park my yacht there?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve honestly never been asked that question. Let me call my manager and get back to you.”

(I step aside to make a call as she heads to the bathroom.)

Me: “Hi, [Manager], I have a client here asking if she can use her parking slot in [Area] for a yacht.”

Manager: “That’s new. Well, if it fits, sure.”

(I hang up just as the customer comes back.)

Me: “Ma’am, my manager says that if you can fit it down there, you can park your yacht.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I’m not sure it would make it. But thank you for checking!”

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(My husband and I have bought a house. It is a show-home, and because of this, the builder has to keep it “on display” for six weeks after we close the deal. This happens on the day that we finally move in. We’ve been unpacking all day, and have decided to take a lunch break in the driveway. A car pulls up outside, a lady gets out, and she walks briskly past us up to the front door.)

Me: “Hello! Can we help you?”

Realtor: *stopping dead and staring at us* “What are you doing here?”

Me: “Having lunch.”

Realtor: “You can’t be here! Please leave.”

Husband: “Why would we do that?”

Realtor: “Well, for one thing, you’re trespassing. For another, I’m about to show this house to a client.”

Me: “I don’t think so.”

Realtor: “What do you mean?”

Me: “This is our house.”

Realtor: “EXCUSE me?”

Me: “This is OUR house. As in, we bought it, and we’re moving in today.”

Realtor: “WHAT? Nobody told me! I made arrangements several days ago for today’s showing!”

Husband: “Well, we signed the paperwork six weeks ago, so…”

Realtor: “This can’t be right. Are you sure you’re at the right place?”

Me: “Um, yes.”

Realtor: “…can I still show the house to my client?”

Husband: “What? Of course not!”

Realtor: “FINE!”

(She drove off in a very bad mood.)

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