We were two hours from the closing table. Two hours. The movers were literally parked outside the seller's house. The buyers had already changed their mailing address, canceled their old utilities, and posted a "new home" photo on Instagram with the house blurred in the background. Then the buyer's lender calls. Turns out the husband had decided—three days before closing—that it was a great time to finance a brand new truck. A $65,000 truck. Just drove to the dealership and signed the papers without telling anyone, including his wife. The loan was dead on arrival. The sellers refused to extend. The deal collapsed. I had to stand in that title company lobby and watch two families scream at each other while a notary quietly gathered her stamps and left. The best part? The husband kept saying "but it was zero percent financing" like that somehow made it okay. I've never wanted to flip a table more in my entire career. I still see that truck around town sometimes. I have to actively resist the urge to key it.