I Hate Real Estate

I detest real estate. More specifically, I detest the people involved in real estate.

When your agent tells you to take an offer, it is probably wise to listen to him. Case in point, our clients are selling their house and asking $255,000, net. It is worth $248,000. Someone offered $250,000. They refused to sell. By the time they realized that they had made a little mistake, the offer was off the table. Now they are having trouble selling the house because new construction just started in the area and no one wants to buy their shitty old house when they could buy a brand new house. Instead of humbly apologizing for not taking the offer after it was most strenuously recommended by us, these money-grubbing morons call me every day to ask if there is another one. Believe me. If there was they'd be the first to know. They want to do an open house now and I detest, loathe and despise open houses and the people who want them. Instead of pricing your house correctly for a quick, easy sale, it's much better to open it up for any asshole to come in and case it correctly for a quick, easy robbery.

We have another client named Schlomo. That's right. His name is a cross between schlong and homo. And it suits him. He has 2 homes for lease with us which he has priced $300 a month to high. After a prolonged period of calling every day to see if his beloved houses have leased yet, a miracle occurs and someone actually wants one of his shitboxes. After checking their credit, which was not perfect but still decent and their monthly income which was 6 times the amount of rent, Schlomo decides they're too high a risk and won't lease to them unless they pay $200 more in rent, and double the security deposit. The applicants are offended as you can imagine and quite predictably tell us to stick it. Schlomo, despite having been effectively told that they wouldn't rent his home if it meant the difference between a long life and a painful death, sees fit to call twice a day to ask if they have "made a decision." I am running out of ways to tell him that he has a better chance of finding a sperm at a NOW rally.

And my last beef is with my boss, i.e. stepfather. I love the man dearly, but he is the biggest chicken-shit. He always leaves the dirty work to me.

"Zelda, would you call the Smiths and tell them that the offer fell through?"

"Zelda, would you call the Joneses and tell them that their loan fell through?"

"Zelda, would you call the Jacksons and tell them their house caught fire and that their insurance was not up to date and their collection of Picasso's was still inside?"

I suppose this is what I get paid for, but I don't want to do it anymore. I'm burnt out and tired and annoyed. I want to quit working and just take care of the house and feed the kids on time and go work-out and get hot like the Stepford wife I was born to imitate.