Taxing Faxing, Part 22

, , , | Right | March 9, 2018

(I work as an admin at a real estate office, and we often get documents faxed to us. On this particular day, though, I check the fax, and someone’s medical records have been faxed to us. It’s not anyone related to the company, and being trained in medical privacy laws from my previous job, I immediately call the facility the records came from and tell them what happened.)

Woman: “Oh! I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”

Me: “It’s fine; I just wanted to make sure you knew so you could get them to the right person.”

Woman: “Okay, well, do you think you can fax us back the records?”

Me: *confused* “I could. Do you guys not have them anymore?”

Woman: “No, we have them. But if you fax them back to us, that way you won’t have them anymore.”

Me: *trying really hard not to laugh* “That’s… That’s really not how that works.”

Woman: “It’s not? What?”

Me: “No. You know how you faxed over the documents but still have the originals? That’s what would happen if I faxed them back over; you’d just get a copy of what I sent you. How about I just shred them?”

(She agreed but still didn’t seem to understand what I was saying. Here’s hoping everyone’s medical records got to where they needed to be.)

Taxing Faxing, Part 2017
Taxing Faxing, Part 21
Taxing Faxing, Part 20

1 Thumbs

The High Cost Of Housing

, , , , | Working | January 27, 2018

(I am looking for a new house and decide to enquire with a new set of houses being built locally.)

Me: “Hi, I was wondering if you could give me some information on your houses. I may be interested in buying.”

Worker: “I’m sorry. We aren’t accepting new residents at the moment.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Worker: *looking shifty* “I’m really sorry, sir.”

Me: “No, it’s all right—”

Worker: *leaning down* “I genuinely am sorry for the inconvenience—”

(A small siren sounds and she runs for a door behind her. I assume she pressed a panic alarm. I’m shocked enough that I stand there for a few seconds, looking around, wondering what’s happening. A security guard appears and walks up to me shaking his head. He walks by and leans over the desk. The siren stops and he turns to me.)

Guard: “Sorry about that. She’s my sister-in-law, and she’s high as a f****** kite. Probably best to try again next week.”

(He escorted me out and I agreed to come back later. When bumped into him again, the guard told me that he reported the worker and she was promptly dismissed. It pretty much ruined his relationship with his family, but he seemed quite happy about it. I ended up getting a house, and I move in next month.)

1 Thumbs

Real Estate Just Got Real

, , , , , | Hopeless | January 19, 2018

(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!)

1 Thumbs

The Agents Of Your Demise

, , , , | Right | January 11, 2018

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*

1 Thumbs

Realty Bites

, , , , , | Learning | November 20, 2017

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.

1 Thumbs