Defective Prius

Alright look… I tried, okay? I woke up this morning in a good mood, with no intention of ranting on this blog. In fact, I was looking forward to this being the first year that I post no rants. That all changed about 25 minutes ago after an exchange with that real estate animal Prius.

I texted Prius and said this:

“Hi Prius… I’m trying to find out what’s going on with the seller and his attorney. The abstract they sent to my lawyer last week was evidently the wrong one. I assumed they wanted this deal done as quickly as possible, no?”

Exact text, word for word. I was expecting a reply in text, but she decided to call me. She said something like this, as I can’t remember it word for word:

“Yeah I don’t know why they would do that. I mean, after all the stuff the seller’s attorney put you through to get the commitment letter, I wanted to know why they seem to be holding up the process now that it’s so close to a done deal! I told Condi the same thing and she said that I was right! It shouldn’t take this long, so I want to get an explanation from the seller’s attorney. I mean, why would they do that?”

I hung up on her, turned off my phone, and am now writing this post.

WHY THE FUCK DID SHE BOTHER TO CALL ME IF SHE HAD NO NEW INFORMATION??! Most real estate agents, the human ones at least, would say something like “I’ll call the seller’s attorney and find out what’s going on.” See that? Simple! Instead she calls me to complain with me??!! I don’t need her help in complaining! She’s not my friend, she’s supposed to be my real estate agent! I NEED HER TO DO HER FUCKING JOB! I cannot believe that no one has at least tried to kill her in some way! Look, if I need someone to complain to, I have this blog. What I need is a professional, like the way my lawyer Marvin Wassle is with me. He doesn’t ask how I’m doing. He doesn’t say good morning. Every piece of communication from him to me is useful information that I need to know, without the bullshit. I love that guy.

I remember a couple of years ago I went to Chase to ask a question. I was still confused about commercial property purchase rules and had a somewhat complicated question, I can’t really remember what it was. I think it was about blanket loans or something. Anyway, they sent me to this mortgage guy who, instead of answering my question, said something like:

“Oh, I don’t know, but that’s a really good question. I usually don’t handle questions like that, maybe you can find someone who specializes in commercial properties because we don’t do that here anymore (< I was okay with him up to this point). Most people that come in don’t ask questions like that, but you keep on going and doing business. You’re gonna be the next Donald Trump!”

I swear he said that Donald Trump line verbatim! Why would he say that?! I don’t need his fucking encouragement. It’s either you know or you don’t know, stop wasting my fucking time. And I ended up getting the correct information from a guy at Bank of America who had the same job title as the Chase guy, so obviously the Chase guy was a worthless mongrel. I swear, this is one of the minor reasons why it’s so hard to go from poor to rich. Along the way, you have to deal with dimwits like Prius who don’t know what they’re doing and try to mask it by being a friend instead of giving the needed information. It’s a sad day when the client who has an IQ of 86 is more professional than his real estate agent. My limit of idiocy tolerance has been reached, which is crazy because I’m an idiot myself. I mean, think about it: I called my real estate agent to get information. Instead, I get someone trying to stoke my anger instead of cooling it with professional response. Does that seem right? At all?! If I could wish the worst thing on her, I would wish her a long life.

The only thing this beta-human accomplished was to make me nervous about whether the seller is up to something or changing his mind. Damned Prius. I swear, when this whole thing is over I’m taking her out for a celebratory dinner. I’m gonna drug her. Then I’m gonna put her on a plane with a one-way ticket to Afghanistan with a sign strapped to her that says “Jesus Saves”. I dislike her that much. I honestly don’t know why people like Prius continue to exist. I… I just erased three more paragraphs I just wrote, detailing  how I would go about identifying and removing all morons like Prius from the Earth and resettle them on Mars with a Twinkie and a cell phone. Not sure how it got that far, but I think I’m calming down now.

I’ll call her back in a few minutes and say that my cell phone battery died. Even though she’s a useless animal, I have to maintain my level of professionalism. I just want to get my precious property Charlie, and then never have to deal with Prius again.