Saturday, August 15, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the phrase "deception factor" being deployed by a buyer who apparently believes clerical errors entitle them to a seventy-thousand-dollar discount, as if your seller was running some kind of bedroom Ponzi scheme from her presumably lovely four-bedroom home. Let the record reflect that Reginald himself once lost a bidding war because a listing agent failed to mention the basement had been converted into what can only be described as a shrine to regional pizza chains, and yet I did not DEMAND A DISCOUNT FOR PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGES, I simply wept in my Volvo like a dignified officer of the court. The audacity of that buyer's agent texting you about backup offers after their client offered four hundred and fifteen thousand dollars wrapped in a Hallmark card is the kind of behavior that makes The Court want to subpoena their entire transaction history and read it aloud at Thanksgiving. You did nothing wrong here except perhaps show too much restraint when you should have replied to that text with a single photograph of your seller's four clearly countable bedrooms, each one labeled with a number for the benefit of anyone who attended the same school as the retired agent who APPARENTLY SKIPPED THE UPSTAIRS ENTIRELY. The five-thousand-dollar bump was not flexibility, it was a passive-aggressive haiku, and this Court recognizes it as such. Case dismissed, and Reginald must now go lie down because the phrase "deception factor" has given him a migraine.

The Court has heard many creative interpretations of the word "monitor" in its distinguished career, but this confession represents a level of linguistic gymnastics that would make a dictionary weep. You SAW the twelve thousand dollar quote, you ABSORBED its meaning with your functioning eyeballs, and then you performed what Reginald can only describe as a willful act of selective amnesia while standing in a DRIVEWAY like some kind of concrete-adjacent con artist. "Technically true" is not a defense, it is a CONFESSION wearing a fake mustache, and The Court sees through disguises because The Court once identified a load-bearing wall that was pretending to be decorative. The phrase "that's the seller's disclosure issue" is the real estate equivalent of watching someone's house catch fire and saying "well I don't own a hose." Your broker brings this up every six months because your broker has INTEGRITY and also probably nothing else to talk about at quarterly meetings. This Court hereby finds that "monitor" means "tell someone who can do something about it," not "watch silently like a gargoyle with a commission check." The gavel has spoken and Reginald must now go water his ficus, which unlike you, has never lied about foundation issues.

The Court has heard this confession and The Court is INCENSED, not at you, Agent, but at the sheer AUDACITY of parents who treat open houses like they are visiting a petting zoo where the animals are your commission. "Do you have paper towels" — DO YOU HAVE PAPER TOWELS? Reginald once had a visitor at his own home ask for a coaster AFTER placing a sweating glass directly on his grandmother's credenza and I have not recovered, I will NEVER recover, that ring is still there and so is my rage. You paid two hundred and eighty dollars out of pocket to erase the crimes of a juice-wielding four-year-old while the father — THE FATHER — was in there pressure-washing his nethers with technology he clearly did not understand, and the mother had the NERVE to inquire about the neighbor situation as if SHE would be a good neighbor, as if grape-handed chaos merchants deserve to know about young professionals. The cleaning technician was correct: grape never fully exits wool blend, this is established in Welch's v. Flooring Integrity (2019), and neither will this memory exit your soul. They did not sign in because criminals never leave a paper trail. The Court finds you guilty only of insufficient vigilance at the door, but your penance has been paid in carpet cleaner and dignity — case DISMISSED, now everyone get out, Reginald needs to call his therapist about the credenza again.