Here we go again
It is waay past midnight and I am channel surfing on late night television watching reruns of Reno 911, Family Guy and the third Best of the Best film. In 24 hours I will be manning a series of open houses. It will be there where I will meet the legions of disgruntled and disheartened buyers who have been blackmailed by this overpriced market.
Trapped in their bubble cages they will enter these apartments like the cast of the Great Escape in search of a way out. They will look at the showsheets as if it is some sort of cryptic treasure map. But like a bunch of junior high school kids playing a doomed game of dungeons and dragons they will find they have neither the hit points or the plus ten ax to slay the dragon. Then they leave dirtied with the stench of their own monetary impotence made evident by the fact they can't even afford the maintainence.
Its painful to watch as they come in with the fragrance of hope in their eyes which is blasted by the fart of reality. And they look at me as if I was the one who cut the cheese. It isn't me. It's the market who laid this egg.
So for the next 24 hours I am going to forget I am an agent and get on with my life. I am going to act like Sunday doesn't exist. And then I will be smacked awake with the realization that I have an open house to go to.
That is one thing I miss about the 9-5. The weekends.
Trapped in their bubble cages they will enter these apartments like the cast of the Great Escape in search of a way out. They will look at the showsheets as if it is some sort of cryptic treasure map. But like a bunch of junior high school kids playing a doomed game of dungeons and dragons they will find they have neither the hit points or the plus ten ax to slay the dragon. Then they leave dirtied with the stench of their own monetary impotence made evident by the fact they can't even afford the maintainence.
Its painful to watch as they come in with the fragrance of hope in their eyes which is blasted by the fart of reality. And they look at me as if I was the one who cut the cheese. It isn't me. It's the market who laid this egg.
So for the next 24 hours I am going to forget I am an agent and get on with my life. I am going to act like Sunday doesn't exist. And then I will be smacked awake with the realization that I have an open house to go to.
That is one thing I miss about the 9-5. The weekends.
posted by Grunt at
3:00 AM
