Monday, September 21, 2009
Real estate agents. . .
. . . can be real pieces of work. Your emergency is not theirs. You don't apply to an agency, get accepted and look for a place, you ave to find a place, then apply, then wait!
I'd rather submit applications with money and get accepted and have freedom to look. Then, they don't try to lease the house and tell you anything about it, they stand around without pointing out features. A few nights ago, my husband went to a place with two other couples and the renter seemed to have been abducted at the last second. Was the real estate agent apologetic? Nope! She shrugged her shoulders and said, "They were given 24 hours notice." I realize that she can't lose sleep over this, but she could have pretended to be embarrassed. This place is somewhere between Girdwood and Talkeetna.
When I started crying when I thought about a melted light switch in my house, another agent told my husband that he needed to get me some talk therapy-- I was telling her that I'd never light candles in the pretty house! Oh-- but she offered in a very condescending way that maybe we could get together and talk-- but she was being mean. What gives? I'm not crying much like I had been. . . now the doldrums have set in and I just wants a semi permanent roof!
Posted by Tea N. Crumpet at 9:03 AM