A Soul-invasive Parasite

Another up early, and out at it this morning with all the many little to-do’s needing my attention. Yes, our days are getting shorter when finding the sun still hiding behind the horizon as I was driving to work. Oh well, that’s just the way it’s to be which is why we must enjoy every day to its fullest.

As much as I wanted to get some desk work done before my phone started ringing, it didn’t come to pass due to a very early call from a well known who must’ve been in a great mood to visit. Since I’m not one to promote long phone conversations, I was shocked to find we’d be talking for over 45 minutes, and wouldn’t you know it, not a minute or two after hanging up, a client/customer called to visit about some recent happenings in our City. There went nearly another hour of my time, but I guess when in real estate, we have to allow the general public to bend our ears from time to time.

I think the reason I’m so much against chatty-cathie phone calls, likely dates back to over 25 years when we didn’t have caller-id on our phones, and for the strangest of reasons, one of my listing clients would call me every single day to talk about stuff that was hashed over days before. You can bet I did everything I could to get their home sold because it didn’t take me long to realize she was a psychological parasite, and by the time I’d finally get her to stop, I’d hang up feeling as though every ounce of my life-force had been sucked out of me. After their home was sold and closed, she continued to call nearly every day until I finally had to dig my heels in and asking her not to call so often. Well, you can only imagine how that went over which was another confirmation she was a soul-invasive parasite. They sold and purchased several other homes before they took their dirt naps, but yours truly had no regrets in the least regarding the cutting her off because her calls were one huge block of useless time of my life that was fully wasted. But on the positive side, from those endless days of being on the phone, I learned how to end meaningless conversations without having the least of regrets.

I have absolutely no problem visiting with people about recent happenings, likes and dis-likes, goals and even a little vanilla gossip thrown in, but when it becomes a broken record of all the ills and spills of a person’s life, that’s when I’m ready to interject and cut them off. Repeating the same thing once or twice is just Ok, but when it becomes chronic belly-aching with every phone call, that’s when I draw my permanent line.

There were times when I’d stop over to see my mother and when in conversation she’d ask if I’d seen or heard from a woman whom we were both familiar, and almost always my answer would be “No”. One day she asked, “I don’t think you like calling or visiting her.” Ah, my opportunity finally arrived by answering, “I don’t like talking to her because that’s all she does is viciously gossip about others along with always lifting her “weak” children up so high you’d think they were of the manor born.” She did understand, but also added with a smirk, “Well if you don’t talk to people like her, you never find the things out you’d never otherwise hear about.” Yes, she got me on that one, but at least she fully understood how much I disliked venomous gossip.

There’ve been colleagues of mine over the years who’d really get their jollies out of sharing vicious gossip with anyone who’d listen, but fortunately I never developed a taste for it. I’ve often wondered if such people ever considered others talking so negatively about them. There’s one in particular who’s circling the drain whom I’d love to ask that question because she’s spewed some real poison over the years in our City. Isn’t it funny how people who work at tearing down others, have far many more boxes of Cardinal sins hidden away in their closets?

One of my dear friends called to tell me his mother had taken a fall and broke her wrist. He said it was such a bad break that they couldn’t even put a cast on until the swelling went down. He’s now on double duty with both her daily chores as well as his own. All I could say was, “You both should be glad she didn’t break a hip.” I’m sure after now having her first “break”, she’ll be all the more careful when doing things outdoors while being surrounded by all the many of her well-placed trip hazards.

One of my late afternoon appointments was to look at a home belonging to a seller who’s planning on listing it next week. He gave me the nickel tour while I pointed out things to do and stuff to get rid of. I’m finding all the more of today’s buyers wanting to move in and do absolutely nothing, and if there are things they’d do differently, they usually ding the sellers all the more on their offering prices. I shared with him a comment made by an agent who said his buyer wasn’t interested in a home I have listed because she could smell dog when she walked in. Yes, even the way in which a home smells will oft times have an adverse effect on what it ends up selling for.

Either my sense of smell is getting more acute, or there are all the many more who’re smoking pot. In years gone by, it was a rarity to ever smell that stuff in a home, but not so in these times. Believe it or not, while at groceteria, it’s not uncommon to smell pot coming from someone who’d just walked past me. Just recently, the son of a seller stopped me in an aisle wanting to chat about real estate, and all the while I was getting overloaded with the smell of marijuana mixed with alcohol.

While on the phone today with one of my client friends I mentioned the open house I’m having at 114 – 11th St. NE and her adding she saw it online and believed it to be a good home for the money. I insisted it should’ve been sold months ago if only we had more buyers who could see past cosmetic updates because all its big ticket items are done.

Tonight’s one-liner is: Only when I start thinking about something bigger, and not just about myself, only then is when my life becomes more meaningful.

Related Property:
114 – 11th St. NE Mason City
Joe Chodur

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