Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Straight Shooter

I need a little break from what I'm doing....here's a little story.

The funniest thing happened today at my real estate field rep job. In brief, for this job, I basically use a lead sheet to go to someone's house and ask them if they would like to refinance their home, or if they would be interested in selling us their home. Pretty basic job. A lot of driving. And MAN, do I meet some crazy-ass people (no, not crazy ass-people, which would be even funnier and smellier).

But I must admit, of all the jerks, drug addicts, liars, losers, and/or complete freaks I have had the pleasure of meeting during my tenure on this job, the guy I met today HAS to take the cake.
I walk up to this guy's house, and he is having a moving sale. I am instantly accosted by one of the people at his sale, who didn't have all his teeth. I think he was missing about three or four.

"Hey, man. You a real 'state agent?" he says in a southern twang. Odd, seeing as we are in Southern California.

"Nope. I work for an investment company. We buy homes, and kind of sell them later."

Toothless boy retorts "Damn, man. I am thinking 'bout buyin' some 'vestment propty myself. Turn 'round, sell 't, and get the hell out a here."

This is an excellent course of action for anyone to take...but let the record show that while he was saying this out of one side of his toothless mouth, he was buying a three hundred dollar clunker out of the other at this moving sale. Maybe he was going to stockpile enough three hundred dollar cars to buy him some 'vestment propty.

"So, you're not the owner here I take it?"

"Nah, man. I think he is." And he points me in the direction of K. I turn my attention away from my toothless entrepreneurial friend and walk over to him.

I notice in between the rather extensive collection of couches, other junk cars, broken glass, and miscellaneous kitchen appliances on the lawn that there is in fact a realtor sign up on K's property. Utilizing my world famous deductive reasoning ability, I concluded that this gentleman might could want to sell his house to me.

"Are you the owner her, sir?"

"Yup. I'm the owner."

And K stumbles over my way. K is tall. K is intimidating. And holy shit....K is DRUNK at 5:30 PM on a Wednesday afternoon. He has not shaved in weeks, and he is carrying a nearly empty fifth of Wild Turkey. He also has the brown paper bag it came with...but he has decided to remove the bottle so the whole world could see his drink of choice. K, as he would later self proclaim many, many times...is a "straight shooter"

"I notice your house is up for sale here, sir. Would you be willing to take an offer?" Now at this point in the conversation, most people usually take one of two courses of action. They either say "no" they arent interested, or they say "yes" and we get into a conversation about a whole bunch of crap. But K...K is very direct. He's a "straight shooter," you see.

"$500,000"

"Excuse me?"

"I'll take $500,000 and not a penny less."

"Well, ok...I..."

"You see, I'm a real straight shooter. I know what I want. And I want $500,000"

"Ok...but..."

"Yeah, the house is a little 'thrashed' but with that amount, I can pay off my debt, and have a little left over for myself." Thrashed. I like how he used the word thrashed. Keep in mind, I couldn't see the lawn. There were literally different appliances, clothes, and cars all over the lawn.

"I would show you the inside, but I'm kind of busy right now. Maybe tomorrow."

"Ok...Ok...what's your phone number."

"I don't got one."

"No cell? No home number?"

"Nope. I aint gonna lie. I'm a straight shooter."

"OK...what time tomorrow do you suggest? Tomorrow night?"

"Can't see the house at night. It's dark." He smiles.

I chuckle..."Well, you are a straight shooter, aren't you?"

"Yup."

I make a few phone calls while he goes into his house. He then gets into his car with his daughter? girlfriend? and starts to drive away. Now, this is odd because (a) we were in the middle of a conversation and (b) he just finished a fifth of Wild Turkey. Doesn't anyone think this is odd? Does his daughter not think this is odd? Does K not think this is odd?

"K...K...where you going?"

"I gotta go. I'm in a hurry." And seriously, the way he was moving, I started to wonder if the police were coming. He was a man on a mission. A drunken, Wild Turkey mission! "But you haven't given me your phone number yet."

I give it to him.

"OK...let's meet tomorrow between 3 and 4" he tells me. But remember, he doesnt have a phone. "If I have to cancel, I'll call you." Remember, he doesnt have a phone. "Your cell phone toll free?" Remember, this guy does not have a phone. "It's going to cost me like a dollar to call you." But dude, YOU DONT HAVE A PHONE. "Say, can you write down '3 to 4' next to your phone number...so I don't forget." Man, he is about twenty five sheets at this point.

So he agrees to meet...and he spends the next few minutes trying to get his truck to start as I walk back to my car. He swerves down the road...and I just laugh as I get into my car imagining all the important meetings K was running off to.....and how much Wild Turkey would be waiting for him when he got there.

5 comments:

prez said...

I can't wait for part 2!

prez said...

So did you meet up with him the next day?

McNastabator said...

Not yet. Maybe soon.

Roger said...

Again, whining like a little girl....

Chris said...

Wow, you never told me you met my dad...