My seller called me seventeen times the day after listing. Seventeen. I know because my phone logs everything and I stared at that number in disbelief while drinking wine at 9 PM. She was convinced the house should have sold within hours because her neighbor's place went under contract fast last spring. Different market. Different house. Different planet, apparently, in terms of realistic expectations. By day three, she wanted to fire me. By day five, she was crying on the phone about how the house was her grandmother's and maybe the universe was telling her something. By day seven, she accused me of not marketing it properly because she only saw it on four websites instead of five. I showed her the analytics. I showed her the feedback from showings. I showed her comparable sales data. She showed me a article about manifesting and asked if I thought the listing photos had "negative energy." We got a full-price offer on day twelve. She almost rejected it because the buyers wanted a home warranty included and she took that as a personal insult to the house's "integrity." I need a vacation. Or a different career. Possibly both.