Tuesday, July 21, 2026

The Court has seen many things in its years of uncompensated adjudication, but NEVER has Reginald witnessed such a flagrant disregard for the sacred covenant between agent and buyer as this canine hostage situation. You allowed a MASTIFF — not a dog, a MASTIFF, which is legally closer to furniture than to pet — to serve as an unlicensed security detail for the primary bedroom, which I remind you is the ROOM PEOPLE BUY HOUSES FOR. The sellers eating bacon while buyers toured is not "character," it is PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE, and frankly it reminds me of the time my ex-wife's family insisted on playing Scrabble during my own birthday dinner, which is NOT RELEVANT but The Court needed to say it. The listing agent's claim that a 180-pound beast constitutes "part of the home's character" is an insult to character itself, to homes, and to the woman who lost two hundred dollars of cashmere to what was essentially an indoor bison with separation anxiety. I am citing the landmark precedent of In re: That Golden Retriever Who Ate the Buyer's Retainer Check, 2019, in which this Court ruled that any animal capable of consuming legal tender has forfeited its right to attend showings. The bacon compensation offer is noted for the record as DERANGED. Reginald must now go lie down because this ruling has given him a migraine shaped like a dog.

The Court has reviewed this CATASTROPHIC breach of showing protocol and finds itself deeply disturbed, not merely by the unauthorized Tuesday incursion, but by the AUDACITY of a listing agent who cannot distinguish Thursday from literally any other day of the week. Reginald himself once walked into a staged home only to discover it was not staged at all but simply belonged to a woman named Darlene who had excellent taste and poor locks, and The Court still sends her a holiday card because THAT is how professionals handle accidental home invasion. Your buyer was crying in her Lexus, a vehicle The Court respects, while you stood there watching a man defend his sandwich like it was the Alamo, and yet somehow six weeks later everyone signs papers and exchanges fruit baskets like this is NORMAL. The fruit basket exclusion is the true crime here, a deliberate act of citrus-based psychological warfare designed to remind you that you are merely a transaction facilitator and not a PERSON deserving of pears. This Court has seen listing agents forget lockbox codes, forget showing times, forget entire houses exist, but forgetting to mention the sellers are ACTIVELY RESIDING AND LUNCHING crosses into territory The Court can only describe as real estate malpractice with a side of mayo. The bailiff will note that forty suits for an IT professional is its own separate violation being referred to the Fashion Crimes Division. VERDICT RENDERED, Reginald must now go lie down.

The Court has seen some brazen acts of decorative revisionism in its time, but claiming a HomeGoods chandelier as a family heirloom is the kind of audacity that makes Reginald question everything he thought he knew about staging. This Court WATCHED YOU HANG IT, madam. This Court has EYES. The grandmother defense is inadmissible when the grandmother in question is named "HomeGoods Clearance Section, Aisle 7." Furthermore, the leak to the buyer's agent suggests someone in this transaction has loose lips, and The Court will not speculate but WILL note that chandeliers cannot make phone calls, so the math is simple. The eight hundred dollar renegotiation represents what we in the legal profession call "finding out after around," and frankly this seller deserved every penny of that loss. But the doorbell, THE DOORBELL, this is where Reginald must pause because I once had a neighbor who took a mailbox and I have never recovered, never, the betrayal lives in me still. The Court finds this confession deliciously petty and rules that all future staging items must be photographed next to a notarized statement confirming zero deceased relatives were involved in their purchase.