Today we went looking at homes with a realtor who had been recommended by our lender. If we go with this guy, we will get some special something or another--Sam knows what it is. I could care less what it all means since he's the numbers guy in this family.
Anyhow, we identified several homes we wanted to see in our price range and emailed him ahead of time so he could arrange for us to see them. I have no words to describe adequately what transpired. Let us just say that he has a voice that can cut steel and a need for an audience like no one else I know. Perhaps he was in a manic phase. In any event, he didn't come up for air the entire four hours. No questions about us, nothing interactive. Just a tirade of random facts about--you name it. We learned about his pastor who is having trouble at the church, particularly since his daughter just swallowed 100 Tylenols. Hmmm. At age 12, young girls don't do that for no reason. Now she is in a local psychiatric hospital and our realtor, the hero, is going to go speak with the pastor tonight to straighten him out about how to interact with her.
Then, he pointed out every home of every friend and client he'd ever had. In the middle of a non sequitor, he'd drop the name of someone who was driving past, along with the details of their home sale.
In a closed car without open windows, his voice was hard to take. He rambled on and on, without a break. Voluntary, rapid-fire, non-stop commentary on everything and anything having to do with him. Sam was so disgusted that he went mute about an hour into the fiasco. He nodded and had an occasional comment or two, but he shut down. That left me to --well, what does one do? Try to keep responding (read, reinforcing) his talking? Stop talking altogether? Ask him to take us back to the office and never call us again?
When we got back to the office, Sam jumped out of the car, extended his hand and thanked him for his time. The man acted like he never heard one word. He launched into a harrangue about how he was going to set the pastor straight in his dealings with his daughter.
We came home with headaches and ringing ears. He showed us only houses that were absolute wrecks. In this region there used to be 734 houses for sale. Now there are 8,000, many of them lender-owned. So many houses are trashed before the people who could ill afford them in the first place, leave.
Sam and I stopped and got something to eat on the way home. Our blood sugars had dropped, we felt ill and I just wanted to go to sleep for two weeks. That guy wore me out. How can one person generate that much obnoxia? (new word).
Sam is going to call our lender in the morning and tell him to find us someone else. It was curious that the lender told us initially, "You can change the realtor if you want to. We'll find you someone else if you need us to." Indeed, we need someone different.
I need sleep and absolute silence.
Anyhow, we identified several homes we wanted to see in our price range and emailed him ahead of time so he could arrange for us to see them. I have no words to describe adequately what transpired. Let us just say that he has a voice that can cut steel and a need for an audience like no one else I know. Perhaps he was in a manic phase. In any event, he didn't come up for air the entire four hours. No questions about us, nothing interactive. Just a tirade of random facts about--you name it. We learned about his pastor who is having trouble at the church, particularly since his daughter just swallowed 100 Tylenols. Hmmm. At age 12, young girls don't do that for no reason. Now she is in a local psychiatric hospital and our realtor, the hero, is going to go speak with the pastor tonight to straighten him out about how to interact with her.
Then, he pointed out every home of every friend and client he'd ever had. In the middle of a non sequitor, he'd drop the name of someone who was driving past, along with the details of their home sale.
In a closed car without open windows, his voice was hard to take. He rambled on and on, without a break. Voluntary, rapid-fire, non-stop commentary on everything and anything having to do with him. Sam was so disgusted that he went mute about an hour into the fiasco. He nodded and had an occasional comment or two, but he shut down. That left me to --well, what does one do? Try to keep responding (read, reinforcing) his talking? Stop talking altogether? Ask him to take us back to the office and never call us again?
When we got back to the office, Sam jumped out of the car, extended his hand and thanked him for his time. The man acted like he never heard one word. He launched into a harrangue about how he was going to set the pastor straight in his dealings with his daughter.
We came home with headaches and ringing ears. He showed us only houses that were absolute wrecks. In this region there used to be 734 houses for sale. Now there are 8,000, many of them lender-owned. So many houses are trashed before the people who could ill afford them in the first place, leave.
Sam and I stopped and got something to eat on the way home. Our blood sugars had dropped, we felt ill and I just wanted to go to sleep for two weeks. That guy wore me out. How can one person generate that much obnoxia? (new word).
Sam is going to call our lender in the morning and tell him to find us someone else. It was curious that the lender told us initially, "You can change the realtor if you want to. We'll find you someone else if you need us to." Indeed, we need someone different.
I need sleep and absolute silence.
1 comment:
"I just wanted to go to sleep for two weeks. That guy wore me out. How can one person generate that much obnoxia?"
That sentence made my day.
Sorry about your rotten experience. Thank goodness for a free market - hope the next realtor talks. Less.
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