My good friend Paul invited me over the other day. He had just listed his house for sale and wanted to tell me all about it. Just as we were sitting down, the phone rang. It was the listing agent who wanted to show the house to all the other representatives in her office. "Just a quick inspection to familiarize everyone with the property. About an hour from now."
Well, the onslaught of eager agents storming into Paul's house was not to be missed. Many of them commented simultaneously on their findings, such as "ah, this must be the kitchen, and there's a bathroom, how about the laundry, look, a pool" and so on. What killed me though were the ring-tones of all the cell-phones that announced important calls. They caused total confusion about whose phone rang, vibrated or didn't ring. In fact, I went to the house phone on two occasions to answer calls that didn't happen.
Later on Paul asked me to stay at his place for the following weekend while he was away on business. Real estate agents might want to show the place, and it would be helpful if I would just be there and preside over the visits. Nice place. Why not? What are friends for?
The listing agent's office called early Saturday to book late morning appointments. Two couples showed up, one of them immediately in love with the home and its appointments, and picturing themselves living there by sitting on the front-porch later on until I ahemmed that time was up. The other couple took ten minutes to just not like anything they were shown and told us so by repeatedly pointing out how "very interesting" the place was. Say no more, I thought.
The best time though was had with a surprise visit by two ladies. One of them, wielding a large designer-bag, looked a bit like Zsa Zsa on zonkers, sporting a pink-rinsed and well-coiffed bee-hive plus matching suit and high-heeled shoes. Must be the agent, I mused. The other lady was more conservatively dressed and made up, but lovely looking. Both enjoyed their brief walk up from the gate to the front terrace of the house, pointing to areas in the landscaped gardens and marveling about the spice-patch and a couple of avocado-trees. I just stood there, taking in their carefully paced approach to the terrace and the house. Their smiles, their slight-of-hand conversation, their pleasant conversation were a treat.
Once we were in speaking-range, Zsa Zsa praised the look and atmosphere of the property, assuming that I was the proud owner. I didn't comment but then was taken aback when she reached into her leather-bag and pulled out a flyer while asking me if I could spare a few minutes to discuss the nature of her visit. So I looked at the flyer and found out the fast way: it was headlined "Would You Like to Know More About the Bible?" There.
Well, I quickly told the two beauties that I was waiting for potential home-buyers who might be arriving any minute now. Could they come back some other day? Well, the two ladies cooperated instantly. They smiled at each other, apologized and then hurried back to the front-gate, with me in pursuit, just in case.
Minutes later I had a terrific idea: why hadn't I sat the two lovelies down at the patio-table, served them some herbal tea with walnut-cookies, and then sold them the house? What with god on our side, it might have worked. Oh well...
