On the 20th of July we had an open house. Three couples came to check out our mansion. I took the kids to the Spruce Hill Lunch for a little ice cream but my husband stuck around to observe the goings-on.
He found the experience very educational, to say the least. First of all, he discovered that instead of pitching our house, our realtor took on more of the mood of house apologist. The custom, natural stone hearth we had built with rocks from the local creekbed was not described as such. Rather, “they had to build this to get the house up to code.”
The custom kitchen with everything totally awesome, from the hand shaped tile to the dove-tailed drawers? Instead of mentioning any of that (and the tons of other awesome stuff our kitchen is packed with, right down to the details), he goes right for the jugular. Right when they walked into the kitchen, our realtor pointed out that there is no dishwasher, “but if you remove one of the cabinets, you can easily install one where the old plumbing was.”
He also said the basement was flooded before we moved in. Which it wasn’t. The previous owners had the washer draining through the cellar to the street(don’t ask) and we had a real live plumber re-route the plumbing. But doesn’t the guy know you are never, ever supposed to say the words “flooded” and “cellar” in the same day if you are trying to sell a house?
At least there was a little comic relief for my very pitta husband who was trailing the realtor as the guy talked down our house to the potential buyers. When touring our property, showing off all our fruit trees and bushes, our realtor did a little bragging on my behalf.
“She makes great preservatives!”
That about says it all, folks.