Stories from 'A Country Agent'

I will do anything for business but I won’t do that... I had been looking forward to this appraisal.  I knew the house; I had driven past it on many occasions and always admired it.  It was a rare thing – an elegant mock Georgian property sitting in about one acre along a popular and private, tree lined residential road; to be asked to value anything on this road was good news, the potential was there to bag an absolute corker of a listing. Simply put, I would do anything to win an instruction on this road.  Anything.  It’s a sign you’ve arrived as an agent. I pulled up on the drive, it was immaculately presented on the outside, huge kerb appeal.  I had to have this instruction. I walked up to the front door, pillars and perfectly manicured shrubs.  Nice touch.  Pulled – perfectly polished – the brass door ringer; another nice touch. After a few moments the door opened, “Christ” I thought, in her late 40’s and wearing some shorts.  Short shorts....

Methinks The Lady Doth Protest Too Much... It was one of the biggest properties we were likely to sell that year and we all wanted to be the one to claim that it was they who secured the deal. Home Farm was located in the county's most sought after village, an elegant Georgian Farmhouse which had been extended over the years to become a very impressive Grade II listed 12,000 square foot home with a prestigious address. The present owners had gone to great lengths to create a fabulous and enviable family home but sadly, as is often the way in such matters, the vendors’ marriage had hit the rocks. I had been flirting with the applicants, Mr & Mrs Chumley-Pilchard for some months, they were keen to buy but hadn't been able to find anything for a considerable time. I was desperate to sell them something and finally I was able to persuade them that Home Farm was worth a look.   She was apparently quite well known for having done something many years ago, tha...