We’ve had the dubious pleasure recently of having a lot to do with Estate Agents. That much-maligned species of our socio-economic playground, because don’t they get a bad press (esp. from me, I have to say).
Bless them. Bless them from their sculpted wet-look-gelled hair, through their Linx-saturated pin-stripe suit to the MeMeMe garish novelty tie which is purely for the ‘rememberMeMeMe’ factor. (“Oh you HAVE to use Justin from Blethers Estate Agents, he was so stylish - SUCH fun!”).
|(Not) Agent Such|
One (such) Agent had clearly not been present the day the Estate Agent Owner had handed out the requisite brain cell, as he turned up late for an appointment because he hadn’t known where the property was (good start). When he did finally arrive (we let him in) my immediate thought was that he’d come via the Debenhams perfume counter and some poor gal had tripped over his Porsche-style shiny pointed slip-ons with a bottle of Agent Provocateur (see what I did there?).
He excitedly and breathlessly asked us if we’d like a tour of the property (already done by the owner in the absence of (such) Agent) and then started saying “Excellent” a lot, followed by clapping his hands together and rubbing in a ‘let’s get this show on the road’ type of style. He also managed to fit in a bit of shoulder-bouncing too. Eager Lurcher fresh from Poodle Parlour and desperate to be let off the leash sprang to mind. He asked if we had any questions.
‘Yes’ we said, ‘How much is this property on the market for again?’. Agent Such (for this is how he has now become) did the whole shoulder-clap’n’hand-rub routine again and I wondered if he might have a touch of Tourettes. ‘Ah now, you’ve got me there,’ he said completely unabashed, staring mad-eyed around the room.
‘But do you have the details of the property on you?’ I smiled. I couldn’t look at my husband at this point because I KNEW we’d dissolve into a fit of giggles.
Agent Such did his whole clap-rub-shoulder bounce performance again. ‘Ah, now, you won’t believe this but in my rush I completely forgot to bring them with me.’
‘So you won’t have details for the next property either then?’
We were delivered a sparkling set of dentures. (Imagine the love-child of Frank Spencer and Lee Evans)
‘Okay then, shall we?’ I indicated the front door.
‘Um… I’ll follow you, I’m new to the area and I’m not entirely sure where the next one is.’
I can still taste the blood where I bit my tongue in an effort NOT to say ‘If you’d spent less time grooming in the flippin’ bathroom and picked up some DETAILS in a professional manner before you left, you’d have been able to put the bloody postcode into your SATNAV, now wouldn’t you?’
And when husband and I got back into our car we were actually …. Actually proper SPEECHLESS. I turned to him and said “REALLY? Is this person REAL? Are we on camera or something? People like this surely don’t REALLY exist!”
They did. They do. They showed us around another house which was totally NOT what we wanted but he was so excitable and eager that we didn’t have the heart to tell him. Like I said, bless.