I had a buyer tell me their budget was $400,000 firm. Absolutely firm. "Don't even show us anything over $400k," they said. So I spent three weeks curating perfect listings, scheduling showings around their incredibly specific availability windows, and driving them all over the county. They hated everything. Too small. Too old. Weird layout. Bad vibes. Neighbor's dog looked aggressive. Then last Tuesday, the wife casually mentions they put an offer on a $625,000 house they found themselves on Zillow. "It just spoke to us," she said. "Sometimes you have to stretch for the right place." I asked why they didn't mention their budget had flexibility. The husband looked at me like I was the crazy one and said, "Well, we didn't want you showing us expensive houses and trying to upsell us." They used the listing agent to write the offer. Didn't even give me a heads up until after it was accepted. Three weeks of my life, gone. I sent a congratulations text because I'm a professional, but I definitely screamed into a pillow for a solid minute first.