It all fell apart and they retreated back to Rhode Island to sit out the lull in the market there promising to resume with us when a break occurred. I stayed in touch via e-mail, feeling confident that our attention to their every wish would secure a purchase in the future. WHAM. A sudden notice of a sale NOT in an area we had considered took place with an agent known for stealing buyers at OPEN HOUSES. Jumped ship, they did. Dumped, we were. I protested quickly and loudly directly to them. Learning quickly, this same woman, needed to remain important in the eyes of the new agent whose listing she now wanted, she chose to buy and re-shine, re-engage, become important from a fresh perspective. We lost. I could not invoke the privilege of my invested time, she made it clear she would say my services were no longer sought. No one owns a buyer. I did complain about the realtor, but she was used to the complaints, plus everyone already knew the established habit. Black marks were her trade.
Now, years later, they've moved again, buying a condo and ushering in all their relics and antiques and special objects, with HOUZZ.com featuring the finished product. I couldn't resist commenting; writing as favorably as I could muster, only calling upon the word loyalty once and being much more kind in my view than my eye would ever agree. The placed is crammed with like and ancient woods - I cannot imagine living in such a stuffed closet feeling space nor with such lack of versatility. A matter of taste, of course. Self importance reigns in this condo space, the flea market lovers respond with glee, while I remember these people. Unkind, self important, thoughtless of other's time. I only bow to Charlie's talent in doing as he's commanded. There, I've said it all, at last. Louisville, my home, now houses the HOUZZed Weismans. In case you want to admire, Janice would love you to do so - she likes being admired: http://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/49648904#812385