The snooty buyer always says something ridiculous like, “I am so disappointed. I really had my heart set on a house with at least three bedrooms.”
The real estate agent responds with, “Yes, I understand that. But you also insisted that you wanted to be within walking distance to the beach. In your price range this house is closest to the beach. But then to live here, you sacrifice the third bedroom.”
Well the wah-wah immediately starts. First it is about the missing bedroom and then it is about everything else.
“I wanted a larger kitchen. This master bedroom seems really cramped to me. Oh my gosh, these showers are just too small.”
Are you kidding me?
Why do you want a bigger kitchen? When you live at the beach everybody lives on bologna sandwiches and watermelon. Just zip it about the kitchen island not being granite and all that dumbness about a bunch of cabinets.
Piling a bunch of people into one space is part of the fun of having visitors at the beach. So who cares how many bedrooms you have? Also, why in the world does anyone need a silly master bedroom that is large enough to accommodate a couch and chair along with the gigantic bed? All you do is sleep in a bedroom. Stop trying to be such a princess.
By this time in the show I am yelling not-nice things, such as, “Shut up, whiney butt!” (or something close to that)
When they start acting all hooty-hoo about the bathrooms, the size of the showers and the lack of granite, my blood pressure is way too high.
Once again, snotty people, you are missing the magic.
If I had a chance to actually purchase beachfront property, my attitude would be completely different.
Me: “Does the place have a kitchen?”
Realtor: “Actually, the house does not have an actual kitchen. It has a college-sized fridge and there is only one cabinet. But the cabinet door is broken. Also, there is no stove.”
Me: “No problem. I have a hot plate.”
Realtor: “You probably wanted at least one bedroom. But this house doesn’t have a bedroom. There is a cot on the screened porch.”
Me: “You say that like it could be an issue. I love cots on screened porches.”
Realtor: “I’m assuming that you also expected a formal bathroom.”
Me: “Not necessarily …”
Realtor: “There’s a shower head behind the house.”
Me: “Not a problem. Who needs more than that? Don’t worry about anything else. I can pee in the yard.”
Realtor: “You are probably wondering how close this very special place is to the beach.”
Me: “Oh yes. It truly sounds like this house has every single something I could ever need.”
Realtor: “Actually, when the tide is in the floor gets wet.”
Me: “Oh yeah. Let me sign on the line.”
Realtor: “Sorry. I also forgot to tell you that there’s no electricity.”
Me: “That’s why we have tiki torches.”
Realtor: “And no driveway for vehicles.”
Me: “I will never drive again. I will be on my bike.”
Realtor: “Is there anything about this shed … I mean ... house that could be an issue?”
Me: “Nope. I’m ready to move in. Let me just pack my stuff.”
Realtor: “Don’t pack much. There’s not enough room in there to change your mind, much less your clothes.”
Me: “No problem. I don’t need furniture when I have a beach chair. I don’t need clothes. I’m a mermaid. Yep, I’m ready to buy.”