Funny Realtor Stories

A Lovie Day in the Neighborhood

When my client arrived in my office, she reminded me of Mrs. Thurston Howell III of Gilligan's Island, Lovie. Only this one was southern. Lovie wore hats and heels and always moved with a flourish. She described everything as either darling, wonderful, gorgeous, or to die for. We were going to look for a gorgeous piece of land for Lovie and her husband to build a wonderful retirement cabin on.

We did find a property with gorgeous views, but it was rather steep. We had to walk over the property (in heels) so Lovie could get a real feel for the land. As I labored back up the mountain I looked back to see my 67 year old companion rolling around the hillside in a vertical position clinging to a clump of grass, broad-brimmed hat still intact. Thank God she wasn't injured because I couldn't have hauled her up the mountain and I was sure that no emergency helicopter could reach us. At our next stop I realized she had not been rolling in leaves but in red Georgia clay. The leather seats of my SUV, which had just been cleaned, were covered with the clay. Oh joy! I took her back to get cleaned up and I began research for the next day's real estate adventure.

The next morning I'm off to meet Lovie. Two new properties with wonderful views had just come on the market in a darling neighborhood I knew Lovie would die for. I was right, it was love at first and she asked me to get her tennis shoes from my SUV so she could walk over every inch of the land. As I rushed back, I lost my footing and rolled down the mountainside. As I dusted myself off I started looking for my car key and couldn't find it. After pawing through leaves and twigs for the better part of an hour I had to call my husband and ask him to come pick us up. He didn't answer my first few calls. That was unusual for him, so I persisted. When he finally answered I immediately poured out my stress and anger and frustration. Only then did he remind me that he was at a doctor's appointment having a series of tests following a heart attack. So much for stress free test results. He would get the VIN number from the car and have another key made. Good idea! (I decided I shouldn't bring up the fact that I had nagged him to have a second key made on several earlier occasions.) I called my office manager to pick us up and take us back to the office. We could use Lovie's truck for the afternoon.

We're off to see another piece of land. Lovie thought property was wonderful, but we couldn't get the property plat to make sense to us. We called the listing agent. He was out of town. The agent covering for him wasn't exactly sure where the property lines were either. Anxious to keep this the sale alive, I asked if the owner could meet us to show us the boundaries of the property. He agreed to meet us that afternoon.

Back at the office, I got a call from my husband. He was at my car, but couldn't read the VIN number. Something was covering the numbers. Could it be... yes there was my car key lying on my wiper blade. I still have no idea how it got there. After lunch we returned to meet the owner of the property Lovie would be buying. He was pacing up and down the street with his cell phone glued to his ear and a perplexed look on his face. God, just give me five minutes before he has to rush off to deal with that emergency!

Seems we weren't the only ones confused by the property plat. The owner couldn't figure it out either. Then and there he decided to pull the property off the market until he could have it surveyed. The sale just disappeared before I could say income taxes are due!

I went home and sucked down two pomegranate martinis before you could say office rent is due. At 7PM my phone rings. Lovie is on the other end of the line. She is hysterical. She tells me she has made the worst mistake of her life. (I'm pretty sure it's not any where near the mistake I had made when I chose a career in real estate) She has gone to look at properties on her own, slid down the mountain and ruined the side of her husband's gorgeous new truck. She is stuck in trees. I assure her my husband and I will come to pick her up. (He has to drive, remember the martinis) So I turn off the oven and leave dinner for later.

Only when we get to the gate of the community do I remember that I didn't bring the code with me. Have to call somebody and get a code. Cell phone does not work. Wait and wait and wait and wait for someone to leave or enter so we can sneak through. Whew! Oops, there's a second gate. Cell phones don't work here either. Drive up the hill on a side street and finally get a cell signal; call somebody who lives there and will let us in. Finally, we are in. There she sits on a darling rock with a gorgeous bag on her shoulder and a wonderful sunset behind her waiting for us.

My husband feels compelled to see if he can get the truck unstuck. Truck is stuck beyond his un-sticking abilities. We have to take Lovie to the cabin where she is staying. She talks non stop for the entire journey. Her son is the Vice President of the largest pool company in the world, and he is responsible for all the company's pool MORTGAGES! I didn't know pool companies need mortgages. How interesting. Her son will be in town tomorrow to sort out the remaining truck issues. As soon as she exits the vehicle my husband makes me promise not to contact her again. He's sure that she is off her medication. I don't have energy to argue.

Mickey Wants a Cabin

I'll call him Mickey (as in Rooney). When he called for an appointment he told me he wanted to close on a property that very week. He was a cash buyer, and he was in a hurry. I was actually going to make my car payment on time this month!

Mickey and his wife followed me in their mini van so their large dog could ride with them. We visited several pieces of property in the cold, pouring rain that morning. After lunch, we headed out to look at one more cabin. Just as we entered the resort gate I heard Mickey hammering his horn. I stopped in the middle of the road and he came to my car window. As he did I noticed to my shock that his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unsnapped. My mind raced back to all the safety tips I had ever heard in realtor training classes. None of them prepared me for this situation! As he approached my window he explained that he was suddenly having really painful stomach cramps and asked if there was a restroom nearby. We rushed to the property management office and fifteen minutes later he returned to announce he was "GOOD TO GO".

The last cabin we saw was "the one" for them. I could feel it in my realtor bones. They wanted to sleep on it, but I knew this one was a done deal. The next morning I made arrangements for the Rooneys to take a few more photos of their cabin and we were going to meet at 4 PM to sign the papers.

When I phoned Mickey and yes, the pictures were wonderful, and the house was just as cute as a button. However, they had decided that the road to the house was just too narrow. Yes, I will call the builder to see if he has the same house on a different road. Yes, he does. We'll see it tomorrow.

Early next morning, the Rooneys and I caravan over to the house just like the other one, only on a better road. The house has many upgrades that add $30K to the cost of the house. Sell this one and I'll be able to pay my gasoline credit card this month. Yoo Hoo As we pull in the drive we are all sure we are in the wrong place. The home is nothing like the one we liked. Another call to the builder and he admits that the homes are not the same, but he wanted us to see that one any way! Are you kidding me???

Next day I get to the office and Mickey is waiting for me. We have four more cabins to look at. One of the homes sits next door to a home occupied by a scary, tattooed biker guy with a large, barking dog chained in the yard. He stores construction materials in the yard. Not likely I'll get them to make an offer on this one. As I pull away I hear Mickey's horn blowing again. Please God! No; not another digestive problem. This time he has backed into a ditch and his mini van is resting on the frame. Cell phone doesn't work. Scary guy is really very nice and pulls the van out of the ditch with his truck and chain. Home free!

Mickey calls me next morning to let me know they will be returning to Florida without purchasing a cabin after all. They haven't returned my calls since.