Friday, October 30, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself TREMBLING with a rage that Reginald has not experienced since the incident at the Panera Bread arbitration hearing we do not discuss. Let us be absolutely clear about what occurred here: your buyer OWNS THIS PROPERTY, she has a DEED, she presumably paid MONEY, and yet some man — some HOA president with a lanyard and a power complex — has decided she cannot physically enter her own neighborhood because of a SATELLITE DISH THAT NO LONGER EXISTS. This is not governance, this is theater, this is a man who peaked as hall monitor in 1987 and has been chasing that high ever since. The Court cites Homeowner v. That Guy With The Clipboard, 2022, in which we established that HOA presidents who weaponize gate codes are legally classified as "neighborhood warlords" and should be tried at The Hague. You, Agent, sat on the phone for SIX HOURS on a SUNDAY, which The Court recognizes as a form of psychological torture that should qualify for hazard pay, and yet your buyer still ended up paying $4,200 for the privilege of ENTERING HER OWN DRIVEWAY. The seller is "traveling internationally" — oh, how CONVENIENT, how absolutely CINEMATICALLY convenient, probably sipping something with an umbrella in it while your client writes checks for ghost violations. Reginald once had a gate code deactivated at a storage facility and I will simply say that the contents of Unit 47 remain a matter for my therapist. The title company, the seller, the management company, and especially that HOA president have formed what The Court can only describe as a conspiracy of bureaucratic malevolence, and you have been conscripted as its reluctant witness. CASE CLOSED, The Court must now go shout at a community mailbox.

The Court has witnessed many tragedies in its distinguished tenure, but THIS — this is a masterclass in how to take a perfectly good listing and drive it directly into a ditch while the wife screams from the passenger seat. TWELVE SHOWING REQUESTS ON DAY ONE. TWELVE. Do you understand what you HAD, Agent? You had MAGIC. You had LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE. And then the husband — oh, the HUSBAND — decided he knew better than the comps, better than the market, better than the very CONCEPT of supply and demand, because his buddy at work sold for more quote back in the spring unquote. The Court has seen this exact pattern before, specifically in Reginald's own marriage, which ended when my ex-wife decided our divorce settlement should be quote renegotiated upward unquote after I had already signed, and let me tell you the PARALLELS are STRIKING. That 620 offer was a GIFT, a BLESSING, a golden retriever of an offer wagging its tail at your door, and this man REJECTED IT IN SECRET like some kind of domestic price terrorist. Now you sit at 599, fifty-eight days on market, the original buyers have moved on with their LIVES, and Zillow — which The Court has TRIED to subpoena on four separate occasions — displays that price history like a scarlet letter for all to see. The husband wants to know why nobody is coming. REGINALD KNOWS WHY. The market knows why. Even the Roomba knows why. This Court hereby orders the husband to attend twelve hours of Comparative Market Analysis sensitivity training, and you, Agent, are sentenced to carry this confession as a cautionary tale for every future listing presentation until the end of your days.

The Court has reviewed this testimony and must now lie down on the floor of this courtroom for several minutes. EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH. FOR THIRTY YEARS. BECAUSE OF ONE BOARD. Reginald has seen some things in his years on this bench, and by "years" I mean the period since I declared this folding table a court of law, but this case represents a new low in the annals of human pettiness. The listing agent paid two hundred dollars out of her own pocket to save a transaction worth eighty thousand in commissions and NOBODY THANKED HER, which reminds me of the time I reorganized my neighbor's recycling bins and he called the authorities instead of acknowledging my service. This Court finds the seller guilty of what I can only describe as Profound Decking Delusion, the buyer guilty of Rate Lock Paralysis, the appraiser guilty of Board-Related Hysteria as established in Splinter v. Structural Integrity LLC, 2019, and YOU, confessor, guilty of standing there watching a woman fall on her sword for two hundred dollars while presumably having access to your own wallet. The listing agent is hereby awarded the Medal of Transactional Martyrdom, which I have just invented and will mail to her if someone provides an address. THE COURT IS NOW IN RECESS BECAUSE REGINALD NEEDS TO GO STARE AT A WALL AND CONTEMPLATE THE SPECIES.