Category: Lost Weekends

You can’t deny the rights you have and all I can do is try. But let’s not forget ourselves and lose our way or cast that stone before we’ve had the chance to judge. It is, after all, the way in which we evince our stunning charm. I’d love to know that feelings don’t change, that we are all we need. But I can’t force you.

There’s a hill that rises on the edge of the town and casts a shadow when light is low. It holds its place against the wind and stands still and silent in the deepening gloom. But there it is with trees and rocks, dirt and sky. It needs no sign, no truth to grasp. I may tread upon its paths and breathe its breath. The hill does not need me though, it stands in place and guides the clouds.

Passion is like the lake with lapping waves, it comes, it goes, it comes, it goes. But with the wear from years of use, the bank recedes, the edges on the shore cannot maintain their keen and driving force. Pools will grow, subside, and leave behind the fertile ground. Passion lies in waters deep where light can’t touch, where seasons rarely see their change. Still, I won’t force you.

If life be misery, then let’s be miserable together.

We can’t all know the gospel truth, the details that only devils know.

And so without the need to study, let’s settle on a lazy pact:

We’ll all agree or feign as much to isolate the learned (the witch).

If in the course of everyday, we meet a soul who will not sway

and verbal pleadings fail the test…

then let us all remember this: a difference we can suffer not.

Let’s push on past the pleasantries and gaze upon the bolder tools.

The guilt lies with the dissident, she should have bowed, confessed her sin.

Our self-same Lord of everything has granted us the righteous path.

We’ll let you walk along our way just mind the rules, our choice of faith

As for this witch, this evil one, we must commence, the rules so state.

Of fingernails and parts impaled, the process shows the lengths we’ll take

to give a taste of hell itself with all the levels felt as one.

And so if torment will not turn the wicked from their fated path,

then don’t let’s ponder, no more debate.

Let’s burn the witch, or failing that, we’ll boil the bitch in bubbling pitch!

There are a number of reasons why real estate agents have the best job.  These reasons do not include texting clients at 9PM on a Sunday night while trying to finish a bag of Cheetos and being coerced into writing a purchase contract at 10PM after finishing the bag and going through most of a bottle of white zin.  On a side note, text messages, while annoying, have turned out to be an amazing tool for agents.  We can watch Fifty Shades of Grey while eating a box of drugstore chocolates and consume a fifth of vodka and still manage to correspond with our text happy clientele!  This seems like a good time to point out to potential clientele that text messages after 7 at night are cool, just don’t assume that those text responses are an invitation for an actual person to person phone call.  You’ll only regret that decision.

Anyway, agents definitely have some reasons why they hold good jobs, never mind what Barb told you while sobbing into a beer at Chilis.

One of the primary reasons why agents have the best job is the access to other people’s bathrooms.  I challenge you to point to a corporate office job that offers access to a throne room in which you may drop a private deuce without any gentle coughing from the next stall over where someone is “politely” trying to encourage you to perform a courtesy flush.  I need no courtesy flush in that 3 bedroom Tudor with a private master bathroom.  All that I need is to casually wait until my clients have grown weary of a particularly ordinary home.  I will announce that I’d better do a walk through and just double check that the windows and doors are all locked and after they’ve excused themselves to go out to their car to answer a fake phone call and wait for me there, I will stroll confidently into the master bathroom and besot the freshly scrubbed bowl at my leisure.  It’s wonderful.

This luxury does not, however, come without a fair share of risks.  Top of the list of these risks is my client becoming impatient with their fake phone call and returning prematurely to the home to assist with “locking up the home.”  Now, this situation is precarious, but is usually mitigated by the simple application of a few strategically closed doors that have objects leaned up against the other side.  With these early warnings in place, the pooping agent is usually more than adequately prepared for an intruder.  Occasionally, a clever client will sneak in through a back door and surprise me.  In one instance, I was pooping comfortably and had, in fact, completed the operation and was waving the bathroom door back and forth in a futile attempt to clear out some of the noxious fumes.  To my surprise, my client rounded the corner and after a quizzical look and a cock of the head, he said nothing and merely turned around and walked out like he’d not seen nor smelled anything.

One of the other reasons that agents have great jobs was alluded to earlier: drinking on the job.  I must say that nothing limbers up my mathematical creativity better than a few glasses of whatever alcoholic beverage is handy.  With all of the digital contracts that we have available now, there is also no risk of a whiskey ring showing up on the signature page.  We’re just living the dream.

Working as an agent definitely has perks, but you won’t meet a group of people more motivated by some free shit.  You may have heard it said that fresh baked cookies on the counter are a great way to coax buyers into making positive emotional connections with your home.  I say that fresh baked cookies on the counter are a great way for me to keep my blood sugar up to make it through that late Sunday afternoon showing when I’d much prefer to be at home sleeping soundly in my La-Z-boy recliner.

As a state regulated industry, we are required to attend continuing education.  In spite of the rigid enforcement, we agents still require motivation.  As such, the class sponsors know that they’d better have free food and/or drink at these classes or we’ll just end up sleeping through a course on the internet.

If free stuff, drinking while working, and pooping in other people’s bathrooms sounds appealing to you, then just remember that all this (and more!) awaits you *if* you can pass the state licensing exam and find a way to skate past the background check.  Good luck!