My seller called me seventeen times last Tuesday. Seventeen. I know because I counted them while questioning every life choice that led me to this career. The reason for her spiral? A buyer's agent asked if the sellers would be willing to leave the curtain rods. Not the curtains. The rods. She left me a voicemail at 11:47 PM convinced this was a "negotiation tactic to destabilize her" and that we needed to "hold firm against these mind games." Ma'am, they're asking about hollow metal tubes that cost twelve dollars at the hardware store. By call number fourteen, she was threatening to pull the house off the market entirely because she "refused to be disrespected like this." I spent forty-five minutes explaining that curtain rod requests are standard, normal, and not part of some elaborate psychological warfare campaign. We closed last week. She kept the curtain rods AND the curtains out of spite, then sent me a fruit basket with a card that said "Thanks for believing in me through the hard times." I ate the pineapple while staring at the wall for a solid ten minutes.