Real Estate Is My Life

"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."
- Drew Carey

The reasons I hate my job are many & varied, and probably not much different from the reasons that everyone else hates their jobs. But I am starting to wonder if real estate in some way attracts idiocy. Because, Realtors? Lord. I am begging the state of Ohio to make the licensing exam harder because apparently anyone can pass it. Only about 50% of the Realtors I work with on any given day have any clue what they are doing. And the public is worse. One lovely woman called for information: "Well, I don't know where the house is, exactly, but it's right down the road from my brother-in-law's house." And then got mad when I didn't know which house she was referring to, cussed at me & hung up. Yeah, clueless and rude is rarely a good combination. Since people don't seem to be getting any smarter, & I sure don't seem to be getting any more tolerant, I generally avoid answering the office phone. Unfortunately, this afternoon, I found myself alone in the office, having this telephone conversation:

Cranky Man
I want information on this house I seen on Prestwick.

Me
[Demanding and grammatically incorrect, FABULOUS!]
For that property, you'll need to speak with Susan, who is currently working out of our other office. I'd be happy to give you her number.

Cranky
I just want some information, aren't you a Realtor?

Me
[No, thank God.]
No, sir, I am the company coordinator, and per state of Ohio law, you need to speak with a Realtor for information about a listed property. I don't have a Realtor available in the office right now, but I can give you Susan's number.

Cranky
There isn't anyone there I can talk to?

Me
[sigh]
No, I'm sorry, but I can give you Susan's number & she will be happy to help you.

Cranky
[progressively more irritated]
Can't you just transfer me?

Me
[Of course, but talking with you has been such a delight,
I want to keep you on the phone a little longer.]
No, I'm sorry, I can't. I can give you her number or I can take your number & give it to her.

Cranky
[Extremely put out at having to dial another number.
Oh, the horror!]
Oh, all right, give me the number.

So I give him the number, hang up & go back to what I was doing, which as I recall was ordering Hope in a Tube, something I desperately need right now. Both hope (in a tube! how convenient!) and help for the matched set of luggage I have under my eyes these days. Thanks, Amalah, for the recommendation! Roughly 3 minutes later, the phone rings again.

Cranky
You gave me that number to call Susan & when I call it, it says I have to press 2 for her and I don't want to talk to a machine, I want to talk to a person, you mean to tell me that you don't have any actual people that I could talk to??

Me
[Summoning up all of my Patience Reserves,
of which I really have none.]
Sir. When the message says to "dial 2 to talk to Susan", that's because it is her extension and that is how you reach her. I'm sorry I don't have anyone available at this office to speak with you, but if you call the number I gave you & dial her extension as it instructs you, Susan will be able to help you.

Cranky
I don't want to talk to a machine.

Me
[Maybe he's drunk?]
Right, yes, I understand that, but you won't be talking to a machine, sir, you will simply dial her extension number and the call will go directly to her.

Cranky
[accusingly]
I bet you're not even in the MLS!

Me
[What?? Maybe I should be drunk?]
Yes, sir, we absolutely are.

Cranky
Are you a NRA member???

[And this is where I lose it and actually start laughing out loud.]
Me
The National Rifle Association???

Cranky
That's what I thought!

Finally satisfied, he hangs up. It isn't until a full minute later, when I stopped laughing, that I realize that he meant NAR, the National Association of Realtors. Which cracks me up even more. Lord, but people amuse me. Or do I mean "amaze"?