You can't make this up.
My very first day in real estate, I split my pants. Up the middle. In front of a buyer and a neighbor walking the dog. Twenty-five years later, here's what I actually wear to a luxury showing.
True tales from the twilight zone between sold and moved out. The pet cemetery, the growth chart, the keys to nowhere, and the "we'll come back for that" lie.
A real estate agent's semi-true tale of courage, caffeine, and crawlspaces. I went to a home inspection with my buyers and walked out with three new phobias, a questionable rash, and a completed bingo card.
A listing's first day on the market as told by a neurotic porch camera. A man in Crocs with a sledgehammer. A balloon situation. Karen from next door. I tried to stay professional. I failed.
