Thursday, September 24, 2026

The Court has presided over some spectacular failures of basic navigation, but THIS, this transcends mere incompetence and enters the realm of geographic MALPRACTICE. You walked a client through a STRANGER'S HOME, let her fall in love with a koi pond that was never hers to love, and now some poor man returns from vacation to discover his lockbox has been VIOLATED by a parade of uninvited dreamers. Reginald once drove to the wrong courthouse for three consecutive Tuesdays, but at least I did not then attempt to PURCHASE the building. The fact that another agent uses identical lockbox codes for multiple properties is a separate war crime this Court will address when she is inevitably dragged before me, but YOUR failure to distinguish between DRIVE and COURT is the kind of error that haunts families for generations. You have created a woman who now knows her perfect home exists, that she stood in its backyard, that she TOUCHED the koi pond, and that she can never have it because you cannot read a street sign. The homeowner asking about liability should be the LEAST of your concerns because the Court is moments away from issuing a restraining order requiring you to stay five hundred feet from all maps, GPS devices, and bodies of water containing ornamental fish. This Court rules that you owe that man an apology, your client a refund of her emotional investment, and those koi an explanation for the false hope they briefly represented.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the combination of pettiness on display here. Your seller rejected a FULL-PRICE OFFER because of a SODA CAN, and instead of recognizing this as the behavior of someone who should perhaps not be selling real estate to humans, you simply stood at the window like a disappointed heron watching a fish escape. Reginald once witnessed a man refuse to buy a perfectly good Colonial because the doorbell played three notes of "Für Elise" and he found it "too European," and even THAT made more sense than rejecting legal tender over aluminum refuse. But YOUR crime, agent, is not your seller's lunacy — it is your SILENCE while that neighbor transformed himself into a one-man anti-welcoming committee, greeting prospective buyers like some kind of feral HOA president with a grudge. You stood there thinking "finally someone's saying it" as if you were attending therapy and not ACTIVELY LOSING COMMISSION DOLLARS. The neighbor is now essentially a scarecrow that speaks, and you have done NOTHING because deep down you agree with him, which The Court finds both understandable and ABSOLUTELY INEXCUSABLE. This ruling is final, and Reginald must now go water his ficus because this confession has given him a stress headache.

The Court has reviewed this confession with the gravitas it deserves, which is to say Reginald is now PERSONALLY INVESTED in the identity of Dog Man and frankly disturbed that you closed without resolving this critical intelligence gap. She saw a man, she saw a small dog, she saw him LOOKING AT HER CAR, and you offered her NOTHING but professional boundaries and reasonable explanations of your job duties? THIS IS NOT A THERAPY SESSION, COUNSEL, this is REAL ESTATE, where we are expected to be part-time private investigators, part-time neighborhood anthropologists, and full-time validators of every paranoid theory our clients develop after 9 pm! The Court notes that small dogs ARE statistically more suspicious than large dogs, this is established in Pomeranian v. The Concept of Trust, 2017, a case I ruled on from my living room. Reginald himself once refused to purchase a condominium because a woman in the parking garage nodded at him with what I can only describe as excessive familiarity, so The Court understands the buyer's concerns MORE than you apparently did. You should have knocked on every door within a three-block radius holding a photograph you sketched from her description asking DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN AND HIS SMALL DOG, but instead you hid behind professionalism like a COWARD. The gavel has spoken, Order the Roomba is circling the bench in what I interpret as agreement, and Reginald must now go because there is a man walking past my window and I need to document his route.