PUT SOME PANTS ON, THE WARDROBE IS A PORTAL

Funny tories from my time in Real Estate...

I was in Real Estate Sales for a few years before I stopped working to look after my ailing father. I was quite good at it; maybe my ability to listen and empathise helped.

There’s always a reason a home goes on the market. ALWAYS. Often it’s not the reason you are given by the sellers, people are after all entitled to some privacy.

I had my fair share of funny moments. Like the old man who answered the door in just his shirt, having forgotten to put on pants, let alone underwear. That wasn’t the funny bit. His dog, a little scruffy thing, used the opportunity of an open door to dash past just as I was attempting to politely point out the old man’s lack of decency. Of course he saw the dog slip out.

“Molly, Molly, come back!”

He made a move to pass me.

“I’ll get her, I’ll get her, you just go inside and put some pants on!”

“Oh, okay,” he said, looking down at his spindly legs, long blue veins going every which way.

So there I was in a suit and heels, running down the street calling out for Molly, who had no intention of ever returning, ducking in and out of front gardens. I lost her around the corner.

I turned back, thinking I’d call the Shire, or maybe seek help from the neighbours.

That’s when I saw my client, who’d somehow found his walker but not his pants, breezing towards me, shirt flapping in the wind… everything flapping in the wind!

I managed to get him inside and dressed. Molly did come back, scratching at the front door eventually.

You can never un-see some things. I still retain that image.

He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and I helped sell his home to pay for the nursing home he was moved to the following month.

Sometimes too, it was difficult to keep a straight face.

Like when I met a couple who wanted to downsize. They had a large home and the kids had moved out. Everything progressed smoothly, I made my pitch, they signed the contract, and so with the boring stuff out of the way, I sat back, sipping on the cup of coffee I’d been offered earlier.

That’s when I saw the wardrobe. Maybe I’d noticed it earlier, but focussed on the technical stuff, I had put it to the side.

It was an antique, two door wardrobe, and very tall, almost ceiling height. We were sitting in the living room so yes, it was out of place, standing between the TV and a bookcase.

“That’s the Portal,” the wife explained, seeing my puzzled frown.

‘I beg your pardon?” Had I misheard?

“The wardrobe stays with the house,” the husband added. “Did we put that in the contract?”

“No, we didn’t.” I struggled to make sense of what I was hearing. These were professional people, she a Marketing manager, he a Department Head in a large Corporation.

“The Portal has to remain open.” His wife looked at me as though I was perfectly attuned with what they were saying.

“I’m sorry, I… What exactly is a portal? And why does it have to stay open?”

Now they both stared at me. What the hell was going on? The wardrobe doors were both shut anyway.

‘You tell the new owners, they have to open both doors exactly at midnight every night. Write it down!”

So I wrote it down on the back of the last page. “Open doors at midnight.”

“Yes, and they must close the doors at 6.00am,” the wife added.

“Close doors 6.00am.” I wrote that down too.

“Um, this wardrobe �" I mean Portal, what does it do exactly?” I directed my question to the husband because he wore a suit and I figured he must therefore be more… sane? I had to know. Part of me was struggling not to giggle; the other part needing any excuse not to join the first part and just plain laugh in their faces.

“Why it’s where the spirits travel… to the other dimension?” He tilted his head towards his wife who obviously wanted to explain further. 

“You don’t know about portals?”

“No?”

“Okay, here’s what you tell them. Listen carefully.”

“You mean the new owners?”

“Yes! The wardrobe stays!” the husband repeated. Was he reading my mind? No way in hell was I going to pass on any of this. I’d lose the sale and quite possibly my job!

“You tell them the spirit of everyone who dies within a ten kilometre radius every night must pass through this portal. That’s why they have to keep the doors open for six hours.”

“What if someone dies outside of those hours?” I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh, they hang around here until midnight. There are three of them in this room right now, and I saw a couple in the kitchen earlier.”

“Here? They’re here?”

“You can’t see them? I thought I saw you nod earlier,” the husband said. “You know, when the old man waved at you from over there?” He pointed to the hallway.

I looked. I didn’t see an old man. I saw two crazy people. I still wanted to laugh but there was no way I was doing it in front of them. I had this image see, of both of them shoving me into the wardrobe and locking the doors.

So I made some lame excuse and left.

A couple of months later, I drove by that house on the way to an appointment. The movers must have just gone, as there were still some boxes on the front porch. I saw the new owners carrying them inside. I’d said nothing to them.

Out on the curb sat the wardrobe.

I floored the accelerator. I didn’t want to see a wagon or a Ute stop and pick that thing up. It scared the s**t out of me.