Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Lookers But No Takers
Before you think this is an anti-tourist rant, it's not. It's tourists, not just us townspeople, who make Kanner Lake an awesome place to live. But I had one of those days recently--full of lookers but no takers.
It started like this:
Our female tourist in a show-me-everything-in-your-listings mood squealed as she entered the office. The squeal should have tipped me off. The other agent disappeared into the break room "to take a call," she told me in a stage whisper.
Female tourist, or FT, stopped at my desk. Her hat flopped on her head like a dying bird as she gushed: "Oh, I just love Kanner Lake. Such darling shops, away from the bustle of urban life. If I can get a place here, maybe the doctor will take me off my blood pressure pills. You simply must show me some properties. The sweet woman at the coffee shop said I should come here."
So off we went in my car to the first of several listings. With what's happened lately in Kanner Lake, I wanted to kiss the woman's feet. That, and give Bailey a hug for sending me a potential customer.
We got to the first house.
FT: "I don't like this tile in the kitchen. And those boring rustic beams in the great room need painting. Or pickling, at least. They look positively looming and oppressive. But my Henry would break his neck trying to paint those rafters."
My mental response: If you're well enough off to buy this place, your Henry could hire someone to paint it for you.
My audible response: "Kanner Lake has several wonderful contractors who do excellent work, even minor touchups like painting." I thought of offering Wilbur paint services, but he might run her off. His showing off the scar thing is getting pretty old. Maybe if I bought him coffee for a week, he'd give up that annoying fetish. Long enough for me to close the deal, anyway.
FT ignored my suggestion and headed back to the kitchen with its deplorable tile and continued: "Is that a convection oven over the range? How clean is the inside? I'd hate to replace that a month after moving in."
The last straw and final pain was when I broke a fingernail down to the quick as I opened the oven door too fast. When we women say, Ow, I broke a nail, sometimes it really hurts. This one did.
Next house--more complaints on her part. Same with the third house, and the fourth. In fact, her complaints only got worse.
Sometimes it's hard to keep smiling.
Result after an entire afternoon spent with this women: no money earned. In fact, money would be spent fixing my nail.Where, oh where, are nice, single, normal, stable men looking to buy real estate? At least maybe I'd get a shot at dinner and conversation. As it is, I'll pop by Java Joint and give up my last five bucks for a decent shot of caffeine.
Like the song says, it's nice to be in a place "where everybody knows your name."
-- Carla
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Bailey Truitt ~ Java Joint owner
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Carla Radling ~ realtor at your service
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