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Feb 27

Some days aren’t worth the tissue you sob into.

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I’ve been in this industry for a while now, and as with any job or industry out there, if you spend long enough marinating in it, you’ll develop a sixth sense about things. I can look at a group of prospective clients as I walk into an appointment and know that they’ll be high maintenance and whiny before they ever speak. I know inside of 5 minutes of meeting someone that I’ll be denying their application for any one or more of five unsavory reasons (drugs, criminal mischief, eviction, bad reference, falsified information – in that order) . I can tell who’s looking to play an angle, and who’s most likely to bring a frivolous lawsuit (and I haven’t lost that bet once, I’m sorry to say). More amazing? I can tell on the initial phone call if the appointment is going to be abysmally awful.

 

It’s like the most unfortunate superpower ever – I can tell when people are just going to suck terribly.

 

I should give these out to people that tingle my sucky-sense. "HI! You SUPER suck!"

I should give these out to people that tingle my sucky-sense. “HI! You SUPER suck!”

 

 

Take today for example. I had a showing at a house that seldom comes available. It usually has a multiple year occupancy and the only two times I’ve ever listed it, it was off the market in under a week. It’s a small house, and it’s not brand new, but it’s cute, and cozy, and lakefront. So I showed up today for the bazillionth showing in 2 days and it’s been snowing consistently since about 8:00 this morning, so it’s not the prettiest of days outside. I considered it foreshadowing – I didn’t get the greatest vibe from the guy when I scheduled the appointment. (So why schedule it? Because I’m not allowed NOT to.)

 

So it’s cold, I’m trying to conserve gas by not idling in the driveway, and the guys is just NOT. SHOWING. UP.  I finally gave in and turned the car back on, only for my runny nose to turn into dehydrated snotsicle. You know what I’m talking about, especially if you’re a parent – you go from a runny faucet of snot to a crusty booger that’s stuck so far in your sinuses that it’s tickling your brain.

 

ch-boogers-freeze

 

Go ahead  – envision it. I’ll sit here and wait as you slyly insert your right pinky into your right nostril.

 

Anyhoo, when the guy finally showed up ten minutes late, I had about 12 inches of tissue packed into my nasal cavity and I was still shivering. But where most people would apologize for being so late, or at least greet me and introduce themselves, this guy did neither. Instead, he looked at the outside of the house, looked at me, and said, “It’s not very good. What’s the best price you can do?”

 

I know, dawg, I know.

I know, dawg, I know.

 

“You haven’t even been inside yet. I recommend that you reserve judgement until you’ve seen the whole property.”
“I can tell by looking at it that it’s bad. How much?”
“The price is not negotiable. Unless you have any other questions, I think we’re done here.”

 

After which point he shrugged and walked away. Then, as I was trying to leave, my short ass car got stuck on the driveway. Not in it, ON IT. Apparently, 6 inches of packed ice and snow is a little too Mount Everest for a Honda Civic. I had to get underneath the car with the snow shovel I keep in the trunk and chip away the iceberg. Talk about not worth the mileage…

 

I figured I’d try to cheer myself up with the bag of Jelly Bellys my husband bought for me last night, but some people seem to think that a little dish of candy sitting on the walled side of my desk is still an open invitation to share.

“Whatcha got there?”
“A coping mechanism made almost entirely of sugar.”
“Looks tasty.”
“You’d think so until you realize that I had a fist full of them in my mouth that I had to spit out so I could answer the phone.” (Not really. I just didn’t want to share.)
“Really?”
“Yup.” I grabbed about 6 and popped them in my mouth before spitting them back into the candy dish unmasticated. And then the phone really did ring. I love it when the universe even gets in on the joke. And yes, I totally ate them anyway.

 

Because it's not gross if it's your saliva.

Because it’s not gross if it’s your saliva.

 

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone back away slowly after being trolled by someone having a terrible day. Now if only we could do something about how much I hate being here…

 

 

5 comments

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  1. Misty

    If you and I could bottle the energy from our extreme and utter hatred and disdain for our jobs and the people we have to deal with on a daily basis, we could light up the entire Northern Hemisphere. I’m just saying, maybe we need to collaberate on something and tell or bosses to stick it.
    Misty recently posted..It’s My Birthday . . . So I’m Phoning It InMy Profile

    1. admin

      To hell with alternative energy research. I’m pretty sure that the harnessed power of hatred and loathing could provide enough energy to make global warming look like a hand warmer.

  2. Valerie

    That is exactly how I get people away from my food! Oh, you want a French fry? I licked one random one and put it back in the box. Choose wisely.

    Then I give the the Indiana Jones Holy Grail speech… About how if you pick the wrong one you’ll age rapidly and then melt into a puddle of goo.

    Hugs!

    Valerie
    Valerie recently posted..That time I jumped into the freezing ocean for charity… Then promptly killed a man.My Profile

    1. admin

      No, no, no… you lick ALL the french fries. In front of them. And then offer them a fry with a packet of salt to replace what you just licked off.

  3. NATurally Inappropriate

    Yeah, I’d probs lick all the shit, too. It totes sounds like some shit I’d do.
    NATurally Inappropriate recently posted..Red Velvet & a Smart CarMy Profile

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