I've started telling people at parties that I'm in "property logistics" because the second I say "realtor," I become a free consultation service for the rest of the night. Last weekend, a guy I'd literally just met spent forty-five minutes showing me Zillow listings on his phone and asking why houses "cost so much now" like I personally set the market rates. His wife chimed in with questions about whether they should wait for a crash. I'm holding a drink I paid for, at a birthday party for someone I actually came to celebrate, and I'm being asked to justify interest rates set by the Federal Reserve. I've tried the "I'm off the clock" jokes. They don't work. People just laugh and keep going. My dentist doesn't get cornered at parties and asked to look at molars. My accountant friend doesn't get handed receipts between appetizers. But me? I'm expected to have opinions on every listing within a thirty-mile radius and predict the future of housing. I'm considering telling people I work in waste management just to have one evening where I can eat a cupcake in peace.