The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL with recognition. You stood there, a licensed professional, while a woman sabotaged her own sale because strangers LOOKED AT HER CLOSETS WRONG. Reginald must ask: what precisely is the CORRECT way to look at a closet? Is there a closet-gazing protocol this Court was not informed of? You let her stand in her own kitchen during an open house BADMOUTHING THE NEIGHBORS like some sort of real estate suicide bomber, and when two above-asking offers materialized despite her ACTIVE INTERFERENCE, you watched her reject them so she could quote unquote say goodbye to the house. THE HOUSE DOES NOT KNOW HER. The house has no feelings. I once said goodbye to a La-Z-Boy for six weeks after my second divorce and even I knew the La-Z-Boy was not listening. You had forty witnesses to this chaos and your response was to say SURE when she wanted to relist, because what else do you say, and I will TELL you what else you say, you say NO, you say MARGARET THE CAT WILL ADJUST, you say anything other than enabling this woman to hemorrhage thirty-two hundred dollars a month in carrying costs while she processes her ATTACHMENT DISORDER on your license. The Court finds you guilty of cowardice dressed as customer service, and frankly Reginald is tired.