Because I'm enrolled in some special thingie from a specific real estate company (that will pay a couple grand at closing), one of the requirements was for me to use an agent from their company. Today, the woman from the program gave my number to a local realtor, who called me this morning after I overslept and missed breakfast with Paul (who was reduced to a sausage biscuit at Burger King due to my oversight...oops!).
Rosie the Realtor calls and we discuss what I want in a house. My needs are simple: quiet neighborhood, no shootings, with a yard. More than one bathroom and two-car garage a plus.
"I know exactly where to take you," she chirps brightly. "Raytown!"
What. The. Hell.
Apparently, she deals heavily in the Eastern Jackson county area. She blathers on about the buttload of houses for sale (I can't imagine why). Two car garage? Not likely. Extra bathroom? Only if I am lucky. I made a few jokes, she didn't laugh...which leads me to think she has no sense of humor. Selling houses is serious business here!! Of all the realtors in the land, I get the one with no personality.
I have a very, very bad feeling about this.
But being the nice person I am, I went ahead to set up and appointment to see her as to not hurt her feelings. It's not like I had anything else going on that day. Maybe by seeing other houses, I can get a more concrete idea of what I want.
I can tell she's going to peg me as one of those "difficult buyers".