Sometimes a house is vacant. Sometimes I need a confirmed appointment. No matter if it’s confirmed on 100 year old parchment paper written with calligraphy in unicorn blood, I knock. Almost always. Below are some reasons why I knock and just some other oddities.
I’ve encountered:
A large naked man sleeping on the couch right smack in front of us when we opened the door.
A large group of sleepy and very high twenty-somethings all sitting around in the dark at 2 in the afternoon passing around the 3 foot bong. I asked them if they knew we were coming. They did.
A dog who wanted to kill me for sure.
A lady out COLD on her bed. We had an appointment and she apparently forgot.
A man who peered out his tiny window in the door and demanded two forms of picture ID from both me and my clients. We skipped that one.
A room set up with nothing but a black cot, a table with a bible on it. It was like a dungeon room for someone bad (?). Im glad it was empty. I’ll never forget it.
A basement filled with clown paraphernalia and art. Filled. With. Clowns.
One of the first houses I ever toured, walked down basement steps, turned on the light and BOOM a 7 foot tall cardboard cutout of some boxer standing in fight pose. Right there in the front of your face. I swear the owners did it intentionally and probably had video running to catch all the Realtors screaming. I keep waiting to see my scream on a viral YouTube video.
Those are just the highlights. This job definitely never gets boring.
The Girl, the Homes, the Stories 