I hosted an open house last weekend where I set out a nice spread—cookies, bottled water, the little sign-in sheet. Within twenty minutes, a family of five had turned it into their personal picnic spot. The kids were running through bedrooms playing hide and seek while the parents sat at the kitchen island eating MY cookies and browsing Zillow on their phones. Not looking at this house. Other houses. They were using my open house as a free babysitting service while they casually shopped my competition. Then there was the guy who spent forty-five minutes in the master bathroom. I knocked twice. He said he was "testing the water pressure." For forty-five minutes. I still don't know what actually happened in there and I've chosen not to investigate. The best part? Not a single person who came through was actually interested in buying. One woman told me she just likes to "see how other people live" and asked if I did this every Sunday. Ma'am, this is not a museum. I am not a docent. I am a licensed professional slowly losing my will to live over a folding table covered in cookie crumbs.