AGENT ⚖️ CONFESSIONS
Judge Reginald Escrow III presides.
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Today’s Docket — Tuesday, June 16, 2026
Confession #0621 — Deal That Exploded
“She rejected the offer. The full ask offer. Eight hundred and forty thousand, no contingencies, fourteen day close. She rejected it because the buyer's agent spelled her dog's name wrong in the cover letter. The dog's name is Biscuit. He wrote Biskit. Like the rapper or whatever. And she called me at nine at night to say she couldn't work with people who don't pay attention to details. I said maybe they just made a typo. She said that's exactly the problem. Three weeks later we're still on market. Price dropped twice. Now we're at seven eighty-five and the best offer we've gotten is seven sixty with a sixty day close because the buyer has to sell their condo first. She lost eighty thousand dollars. Eighty thousand. Because of a K. And here's what gets me, here's the part I keep coming back to, the dog died like two months before we even listed. She told me at the open house. Standing in the kitchen crying about how hard it was to show the house without him there. But apparently his ghost needed the name spelled right. I had to call the other agent and tell him. Had to say the words out loud. Your offer was rejected due to a spelling error in the cover letter. He laughed. He thought I was joking. Then he just hung up. Can't even blame him.”
Judge Reginald Escrow III — Presiding
“The Court has reviewed this testimony and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer preventable tragedy on display here. You stood there, a licensed professional with presumably functioning vocal cords, and allowed a deceased dog named Biscuit to tank an eight hundred and forty thousand dollar deal over the letter K. THE LETTER K. Reginald once lost a girlfriend because he pronounced quinoa wrong at a Whole Foods, and even HE would have fought harder than you did for this deal. You should have grabbed that woman by the shoulders and said the words every agent fears but must sometimes speak: YOUR DOG IS DEAD AND HE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT SPELLING. Instead you made that phone call, you spoke those words out loud to another human being, and somewhere in the distance a Coldwell Banker training manual burst into flames. The other agent laughed because WHAT ELSE CAN ONE DO when confronted with the smoking wreckage of a transaction killed by a K. This Court hereby finds that you enabled a haunting, specifically the haunting of your client's own financial future by the ghost of a dog whose name she apparently loved more than eighty thousand American dollars. The gavel has spoken, Order the Roomba is backing away slowly, and Reginald must now go lie down in a dark room.”
“The appraisal came in low. Like, 40 thousand low. My first deal, three months of work, and the number just sits there on the page like it's nothing. Buyers start panicking, sellers start yelling at me like I personally decided their house was worth less, and my broker is in Cabo so I'm just getting these one-word text responses. "Handle it." Great, thanks. Spent two days trying to get a second appraisal approved, which didn't happen. Then trying to get the sellers to come down, which also didn't happen. Then trying to get the buyers to bring more cash, which—you guessed it. Everyone's pointing at everyone else and I'm in the middle explaining things I barely understand myself. Deal fell apart on day 29. My commission was going to be 8 grand. I made nothing.”
Judge Reginald Escrow III — Presiding
“The Court has reviewed this confession and finds it DEEPLY TROUBLING, not because of any moral failing but because you allowed a piece of paper with a number on it to DESTROY THREE MONTHS OF YOUR LIFE while your broker sipped margaritas and texted you like you were a malfunctioning Keurig. "Handle it." HANDLE IT? Reginald once received similar guidance from his father regarding a flooded basement and let me tell you that man is no longer welcome at Thanksgiving for UNRELATED REASONS. You stood in the middle of a three-way screaming match between parties who all wanted the same thing but refused to acknowledge basic mathematical reality, and somehow YOU feel guilty? The sellers wanted fantasy money, the buyers wanted a discount miracle, and the appraiser—ah yes, the appraiser, that chaos agent with a clipboard and a god complex—simply wrote down what the house was worth and walked away like some kind of valuation terrorist. You were not the problem here, you were the ONLY PERSON TRYING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM, and your reward was eight thousand dollars worth of nothing and a broker who probably has a tan line shaped like his own negligence. The Court finds you guilty only of being new, being alone, and being the only adult in a room full of toddlers fighting over a toy that was never worth what they thought.”
“She called on a Sunday. Said she had to see the house that day, couldn't wait, flying back to Denver Monday morning. Fine. I drive 40 minutes, meet her there, and she's got her dog. Big golden retriever, no leash. I should have said something right then but she seemed normal, the dog seemed calm, and I just—I didn't. We're in the kitchen maybe three minutes when the dog knocks over this floor vase by the back door. Shatters. She doesn't even react, just keeps asking about the countertops. I'm standing there with ceramic everywhere and she's touching the backsplash. The sellers had it listed in their disclosure as an antique from Portugal. Eight hundred dollars. I paid it myself because I couldn't prove the dog did it and I was the one who let them in. My broker still doesn't know. The woman never made an offer. Bought something in Lakewood.”
Judge Reginald Escrow III — Presiding
“The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the spinelessness on display. You stood there, in someone else's kitchen, watching an unleashed golden retriever commit PREMEDITATED CERAMICIDE against a Portuguese antique, and your response was to absorb the financial damage like some kind of human sponge? Reginald once allowed a neighbor's cat into his home office and it knocked over a decorative gavel from the Franklin Mint collection — I sued the cat, the neighbor, AND the Franklin Mint, and while I lost all three cases, I maintained my DIGNITY. You paid eight hundred dollars of your own money because you lacked the moral fortitude to say "ma'am, control your beast" to a woman who was TOUCHING THE BACKSPLASH while standing in a crime scene! The dog knew what it was doing — retrievers ALWAYS know — and you became its accomplice through cowardice. She bought in Lakewood, which frankly is punishment enough for her, but YOU must live with the knowledge that your broker operates in blissful ignorance while you carry this Portuguese secret like a stone in your chest. The Court finds this confession equal parts pathetic and expensive, and orders you to never again admit a quadruped without demanding papers, references, and a sworn affidavit of good behavior. Case dismissed, Reginald needs to call his therapist.”
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Born in a suburb he describes only as “well-maintained.” Attended three law schools — none of which have verified records of his enrollment. Appointed himself to the bench in 2019. Holds no accredited legal credentials.
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