Scandalous!

Every day working in real estate is a learning experience.

Adventures ensue, and you never really know what is in store for you on a day-to-day basis.

Here’s a story about an unexpected circumstance that took place as I was showing around a new client for the first time…

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A good friend of mine, who I’ll simply refer to as “D.T.S.” to protect his anonymity, has decided to finally move out of his parents’ basement and into a downtown Toronto condominium.

During the past summer, I sold my friend Pete a condo by the waterfront, and Pete and D.T.S. talked briefly about the experience and what trials and tribulations one goes through when looking to purchase a residence.

Pete told D.T.S. he was surprised at how much fun he had, of course, working with myself.  Apparently, I know how to make a mundane situation into an adventure…

So the first time I took D.T.S. out to look at a condo, he told me of his conversation with Pete.

“Pete says you once went into the bedroom in a condo you were looking at, and there were a hundred pairs of women’s underwear scattered all over the room?!?!”

“Yeah,” I replied, “But that’s kind of an isolated incident.”

I told D.T.S. that if he was looking for entertainment, and stories to tell his banker friends at Shmooze on Thursday nights, he’d better not get his hopes up.

We showed up at Chocolate Lofts in Queen West Village, and began the inevitable search for the lockbox.  “LBX BH BLDG” in this case meant that the lockbox was behind the building, as in, down the back alleyway.

We made our way around the back, and began walking down the alley.  At the time, we didn’t notice this suspicious looking character leaning against a wall.  We proceeded to the railing where we could see a few lockboxes, and that’s when we noticed as a shirt was flung out into the alleyway from behind an adjacent wall.  The suspicious man quickly darted over behind the wall, and when we rounded the corner to get the key from the lockbox, we saw him with a 19-year-old girl, who was dressed very scantily in jeans and a crop-top.

A crop-top.  Nothing unusual about that.

Except that it was 2-degrees-Celsius outside…

D.T.S. whispered, “Wow, that chick is dirty hot,” as I drew an odd stare from the suspicious man, who seemed to be clutching something in his hand.  He and the girl both looked at us, watched us move, and didn’t make a move themselves.  It’s almost like they were waiting for something.

D.T.S. and I proceeded around to the front entrance of Chocolate Lofts, and up to the third floor unit.  We spent a few minutes looking at the dining room, the kitchen appliances, and the bedroom paint colors, and then headed over to the window to check out the view.

I flung the curtains open to see which way the unit faced and…

….it faced out over the alleyway. 

And there, below, was the scantily-clad young lady, now LESS scantily-clad, as she was not wearing a shirt!

The suspicious man was holding a camera, and snapping off photos as the young, topless lady arched her back in her six-inch stiletto heels and tight designer jeans, leaning against the brick wall and striking different poses.

D.T.S. and I stood there, faces pressed against the glass, watching what would normally cost us $20 and an overpriced beer, as this extremely above-average-looking female stood with no shirt on, and pants that left very little to the imagination, pouting at the camera, licking her lips, wagging her tongue, and pressing out her….pectoral muscles for the camera.

“What I wouldn’t pay to see a pair of pants fling out from behind that wall,” said a shocked yet elated D.T.S.

That’s when I decided to have a little fun, and I knocked on the window as hard as I could, and the two characters below were startled as they looked up to see D.T.S. and I watching from above.  They hurriedly gathered their belongings, and scampered off down the alleyway.

“Ummm….what unit unit are we seeing next?” Inquired D.T.S.

I often find that when you set the bar too high at the onset, people are usually left disappointed.

And this thought was further reinforced a week later when I met D.T.S. again to visit a few more condominiums for sale.

We got out of the car, proceeded to the front door, and D.T.S. asked me, “Sooooo…..where’s the lockbox?”

I checked my Blackberry and replied, “Uh, it says here….front door, railing.”

“Oh,” replied a now deflated D.T.S.

“I was hoping it was in the back alleyway…..”

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