Estate agents are liars (not exactly a revelation)

So, I'm sitting here, in my dressing gown (yes, it is 1.30pm but I am still not feeling quite right and I am working at home, so who gives a damn?)...

I hear a rattle of keys at the front door and make a noise, thinking that someone maybe had the wrong flat, or was going to the neighbour's place, and heard: "Mell, Mell, it's [insert name] here from Estate Wankers."

Conversation through a closed door:

Me: What are you doing here?
Estate Wanker (EW): Nick left a message yesterday.
Me: I am off sick, I didn't get a message.
EW: But he called.
Me: I didn't get a message. It is not convenient now.
EW: So, we can't come in?
Me: As I said I am off sick, no appointment was made, I expect a call when someone is coming round. Will you check it with Nick?
EW: Yes, I'll go back to the office and check it.
Me: Good.

Then I called up the office and complained to the manager about the EW feeling perfectly free and easy as far as entering my property is concerned. How fucking difficult is it to pick up the phone to ask whether it is convenient?

I do not like being lied to about such things. Am furious. Suppose I was in the middle of an important interview, in the bath, or walking around with my pants on my head?

Bastards.

Which reminds me, I had a call from a different estate cretin earlier this week. She congratulated me on my 'pregnancy' on the basis of me and S looking at a few properties in the area. The idiot called me up at work and went on and on and I had to say that she had got that wrong. This is the same twunt who told me I looked like her sister and that that made her want to slap me. I really need to write some searing, arse-burning letters. Pronto.

I hate them. Idiots.

Clichés are based on truth

Estate agents = wankers/bastards/moneyfornothing scrotes? Well, based on my experience this is certainly the truth. All bar one outstanding chap (who I think has left the 'profession'), they have all been useless time-wasting tossers over the past five years. I would use the rudest word at my disposal but I think the words 'estate agents' will just have to suffice as a substitute.

Long story short:

1) We see a house we like – it's one we had spotted ages ago, when we were looking for our current place. It's back on the market.

2) We put in an offer – the asking price; it is accepted. We very quickly put our place on the market with the same agents, thinking they'd have the motivation and it would be easier to deal with just one firm of twerps.

3) The estate wankers (who we feel have overpriced our place but who love it) use 'summer' and 'the holidays' to account for the lack of viewings. They bullshit us, bring a handful of people round (who mess up our lovely pale carpet with their clodhoppers) and that's that.

After a few weeks, we realise that these people can't be arsed. Just can't be arsed – they don't even know if there is a service charge, whether it is leasehold etcetera... Their 'solution' is for us to rent our place out (via their sister lettings firm – hmm) so we have two mortgages on the go. In the current climate, this is hilarious, and we do not want to be landlords or have any extra stress.

4) S tells them that we are worried about the renting option, stresses to the agent that we still want the other place and would the manager of the estate wankers get back to us to let us know what the vendor thinks.

5) I casually browse the internet this morning and search for the address of the place we thought we were still buying. It's back on the market. They didn't even tell us. I am fucking incandescent and am minded to take the 'for sale' sign outside our place and ram it up the estate wanker manager's arse.

6) Today will be interesting. I feel it's time for me to wear my investigative journalist hat – again. Excellent.
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Listening to: The Source Feat. Candi Staton - You Got The Love