Doing the Jitterbug
My clients and I were coming in from the backyard of a listing when something darted up my pant leg. I started screaming and jumping around like a crazy person, and my clients were obviously alarmed. Whatever was in there kept jumping higher and higher, and all I could think was, “I have to get these pants off! Am I really going to take my pants off with clients here?”
I bolted into the master bedroom, and my clients followed behind. Now they were screaming as loudly as I was. I dashed into the master closet and slammed the door behind me. Still squealing, I ripped my pants off—and out jumped a grasshopper.
I was mortified that my clients had witnessed this whole thing. I got my pants back on, mustered what composure I could, and opened the closet door, My clients were doubled over in laughter as I explained to them what happened. Mr. Buyer caught the grasshopper and kindly escorted it outside.
I have one takeaway from this experience: Skinny-legged pants are a must!
A Listing With a Sting
My seller hired a handyman to do some home-inspection repairs. It turned out the worker was also wanted by the police.
I got a call one day from a Kentucky State Police officer, who had somehow found out the man was working on a home I represented. I learned there were several warrants out for his arrest and they apparently needed my help in nabbing him. I let the police know the next time the handyman would be at the house,
They asked me to meet them at the house, which is when it dawned on me I would be playing a major role in his arrest. “We don’t want you to be alarmed,” the officer said, “but there will be seven state police cars outside when you arrive.” When I got there, several patrol cars pulled up behind me, and I could see cops hiding in the bushes. My heart started racing when they asked me to go to the door. When the handyman opened it, several officers flew inside, put him in handcuffs, and led him behind the house. I never saw him again. Neither the seller nor the buyer ever fully understood what happened; I just tried to help my client find a repairman she could trust a little more.
A Friendly Ambush
When I met my client’s 3-year-old daughter during a listing appointment, she was more interested in her toy box than talking to me. Her mother then suggested she show me her room. The next thing I knew, I was laying on the girl’s bedroom floor while she playfully hit me over the head with her large stuffed dog. Then she sat on my head and held my wrist so I couldn’t interfere while she changed the background photo on my Apple watch. When I tried to escape her hilarious torture and get back to her mother, she chased me into the kitchen, where we had a dance party with their golden retriever. Later, her mother told me why she jumped on me: “Because I love her,” the girl had told her. We set up a playdate at Dunkin’ Donuts for a pink donut with sprinkles.
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