You know you guys are all sick, right?

And I say that with love.

You, specifically, the TRB readers.  You guys need help.

I mean, I write a blog on Monday about “the worst experience of my career,” and you ask for more! 🙂

But not just more; you asked for stories about the worst client I’ve ever dealt with, or the worst person I’ve ever come across.  Blog reader Cyber asked me to rank them by category!

“If it bleeds, it leads.”

We all know that.

So who am I to deprive you of what you really want, even if it’s opening up some old wounds?

On Monday, I told a story about the worst experience of my career, which saw me lose a listing in the most brutal of ways: by watching a “FOR SALE” sign for another agent, hammered into the lawn as I stood there with a buyer, on the very morning that I was supposed to sign the listing paperwork.  This was my second year of real estate, I had sold one property in six months, and it absolutely crushed whatever was remaining of my spirit.

That was truly the worst experience.

But the worst person I have ever dealt with?  That’s something else entirely.

In preparing to write this blog, I had to dig up three JPG files that were buried somewhere on my computer.  After this man sent me these messages, I saved them to my hard drive.  But I didn’t know where, and in order to find them for this blog post, I had to search “Sent Items” in Microsoft Outlook, since I had emailed them to myself.

In actual fact, I think I deleted the JPG’s from my hard drive.  I must have come across them one day, felt a rush of anxiety, and realized that they serve no purpose.  So I must have deleted them.

But for you guys, the loyal TRB readers, I went into the annals of Microsoft Outlook and found them.

Amazingly, they read a lot less vicious than I remembered.  Or perhaps I have simply cooled off over the last eighteen months.

Then again, maybe the context in which I received the messages, the timing of it, and the history of the abuse from this person were thoughts and emotions that couldn’t transcend those eighteen months, and thus the hurt didn’t carve as deep.

You be the judge.

I alluded to this story very briefly in a blog post from December of 2021, but I left out a lot of the facts because I was afraid that the protagonist would take notice, and despite “having a thick skin,” as I always say, this person was next level and I didn’t want to exacerbate the issue.

Today, let me flush out the entire story…

In September of 2021, I had a very ordinary listing for a very ordinary house, and the sale of that property was very ordinary.

I had multiple offers on the house, sold it unconditionally with a deposit cheque in hand, and moved on like I would in the course of selling any house.

I was, as you can take note, completely unspectacular.

It’s why, in my opinion, the following events were so out of place, and why the individual in the story is, quite simply, as awful and unstable a person as you will ever encounter in this line of work…

The property was purchased by a man for his two sons who would live in the two existing units in the house.

In their Agreement of Purchase & Sale, they included a standard clause for “buyer visits,” which is when the buyer can return to the property for a viewing before the closing date.  We do these with buyers so they can take measurements, plan for furniture, show contractors through, show friends and family, etc.  In this case, the buyers had included three visits in their clause in the APS.

The buyers used two of their visits very quickly, within two weeks.  That wasn’t problematic for any reason, but rather it was a bit surprising, in that there were two more months until closing and they left themselves with only one visit.

The first odd interaction came when the buyer agent called me and said, “Would you be alright if the buyers did some work on the house?”

Naturally, I assumed that he meant after they took possession.  But then, why would he be asking, right?

“Work on the house, when?” I asked.

He said, “Just, like, you know, over the next few weeks.”

It was one of the more odd requests I had received in a long time.  They wanted to “do work” on a house they didn’t own?

I told him, “No,” and expected that to be the end of it.

But he called me back and said, “The buyers’ dad was there today with his contractor and they fixed a few things outside the house.”

Wait a minute; they didn’t have a buyer visit booked.  What did he mean, “The buyer was there today?”  How?

I asked the agent and he said, “Oh, don’t worry, they didn’t go inside, they were just walking the lot.”

Huh?

Walking the lot?

That’s what you say when there’s a property with a dilapidated, vacant, borderline-condemned house on a lot that’s going to be bought by a builder.  “Walk the lot,” as in, the house has no value and nobody has lived there in a long time.

But my client lived there.  She was inside her house, enjoying her right to privacy.

And these guys were “walking the lot?”  They were “fixing things?”

I told the agent, “You do not have permission to go to the property any time except for your remaining buyer visit,” and he apologized and agreed.

A couple of weeks later, the buyer went back for his last visit and the agent reported back that their electrician said that the wiring “needed work.”

Oh, here we go…

As with every property that I list, I provided a Carson Dunlop home inspection, and in this inspection, no recommendations for upgraded wiring were provided.  The buyer agent said that the buyer’s electrician “found problems” and that they needed to be addressed before closing.

This was a new one.

First of all, the issue of “problems” is subjective.

Our home inspector didn’t not any issues.

The buyer’s electrician said that upgrades were needed.

Regardless of whether there’s a right, wrong, or grey area, the buyer may choose to do whatever he likes after the sale has closed and he’s taken possession.

To suggest that work would, could, or should be done on the house in advance of the closing date is ludicrous and it’s something I’d never encountered before.

Two weeks later, the buyer agent called and said the buyer wanted another visit.  I told him that they had already used their three visits, per the APS, and that they weren’t entitled to another one.  He called me back the next day begging for a fourth visit, saying that his client was on the war path and that the client was “demanding access.”

Attempting to take the path of least resistance, I told my seller to allow it, and she did.

Two days later, the buyer agent followed up and said that the showing went well and that “The buyer’s electrician was able to fix a few things in the house.”

Holy shit.

They did it.  They actually did it.

These guys did work on a house that they didn’t own, even when they were explicitly told not to.

I explained to the buyer agent that there was no difference between doing electrical work and painting the kitchen cabinets green.  It wasn’t their house yet.  They didn’t own it.

What was this buyer thinking?

The entitlement was one thing but the cluelessness was another.

I know the type.  I’ve met people like this before.  “Unhinged” is the word we’re looking for.

I continued to receive odd requests from the buyer’s agent over the following weeks as the closing date approached.  The buyer wanted a survey but we didn’t have one.  He demanded we pay for a new one, even though we were under no obligation.  The buyer said that the concrete path between the houses was “dangerous” and a hazard that needed to be addressed.  I ignored them all and just tried to pass the time until closing.

The closing date was on a Monday, and on the preceding Thursday, the buyer agent called and said that his buyer wanted a fifth buyer visit.

This time, I put my foot down.

But I did my job and, rather than deciding unilaterally on behalf of the seller, I called her and asked.

“Not a chance,” she told me.  Then she added, “I’m not feeling well and I couldn’t accommodate even if I wanted to.”

I called the buyer agent and told him that my seller was sick and couldn’t accommodate the viewing, and he said that he understood.

And that was that…

…until it wasn’t.

Two days later: Saturday.  Yes, you can do the math, but why am I pointing out that it’s Saturday?  Well, because it was my daughter’s fifth birthday.

My wife and I spent Saturday night blowing up balloons and hanging streamers.  We set out the “Frozen” themed paper plates and cutlery.  And on Saturday, we had both sets of grandparents come over, as well as our respective sisters, to eat Tabule and eventually birthday cake.

But before we got to that cake, something happened.

My phone rang.

I should have known the name, but I didn’t.

More importantly, I shouldn’t have answered the phone, since we were about five minutes from Maya blowing out the candles on her birthday cake, but I’m my own worst enemy sometimes.  I took the call.  I figured it was probably an agent calling about a listing and that it would be a thirty-second call.

But it wasn’t.

It was the buyer from this nightmare transaction.

Calling me, which he shouldn’t be.  That should have been my first clue that this was going to blow up, and yet I was courteous and entertained his call.

I even called him “Mister,” which I regret, when he said his name.

“It’s John Smith,” he said, “The buyer for 123 Fake Street,” to which I replied, “Hello Mr. Smith.”

“Actually, it’s Doctor.  Doctor John Smith,” he corrected me, and this was yet another clue about who this man was.

I mean, props due to anybody that’s completed a doctorate, but if there’s ever a  “type” of person who’s trying to pass himself off as an M.D. and gain the respect and stature that comes with it, then that was this was that man.

I was extremely courteous.  I told him that while I was just about to light the candles on my daughter’s birthday cake, I was happy to chat with him for a few minutes.

Most normal people would say, “Oh, how nice,” or “How old is she?” but he didn’t respond.  He just launched into what felt like a rehearsed sermon of displeasure.

He began by telling me, “My lawyer was going to call you and speak to you directly but I talked him out of that,” which was his way of telling me I was in trouble.

This was the first of many threats, both deliberate and implied.

The way he spoke was just creepy.  Slow, methodical, and with a nasal tone that made his condescension and entitlement more unbearable.

He proceeded to tell me that we were “going to” give him a $5,000 abatement for the electrical work that “needed to be done,” which wasn’t phrased as a suggestion, or a question, or even a request, but rather a foregone conclusion.

I tried to interject, but then he started up about the other “issues” in the house, explaining how lucky I was that he wouldn’t “come after me” personally.

But then came the kicker in all of this.

“As for our final viewing,” he told me, “We will be viewing the home tomorrow, or we won’t be closing,” he said.

I explained that he had the right to three visits before closing, per his APS, and that he had already used four.

“Yes, but your client is acting in bad faith,” he told me.  “She has something to hide, which gives us the right to view the property,” he said.

This is where it got weird.

“She sick, is she?” he said, to which I replied that she was.

“Well I have news for you,” he told me.  “She isn’t sick.  She’s faking!”

On the other side of my office door, I could hear my son clamouring for cake.  My daughter said, “Duke, we have to wait for daddy!”

“Mr. Smith,” I said, before he interjected loudly with, “Doctor Smith,” to correct me.  “What do you mean, ugh, um, what do you mean by this?  What are you talking about?” I asked him.

“I saw her yesterday morning,” he told me.  “I saw her taking in a recycling bin and she did not look sick!” he explained.  “Then I saw her again, today, loading boxes into her car, and no woman of that age is doing all that when she’s sick!” he told me.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“What were you doing over there?” I asked him.

“I was passing by,” he said.

“Were you…..passing by……again….today?” I asked him.

“Yes, I was,” he replied.  “I happened to be in the area both days,” he said, as I pictured him on the other end of the line, so proud of himself.

There was something seriously wrong here.

This went beyond his misunderstanding of the Agreement of Purchase & Sale, or his thoughts on the electrical work in the house.

Was he stalking my client?

He shifted gears and said, “So I will be going in to the house tomorrow to check up on the property and the old “sick” lady can be there or not, but we will be getting her or you to pay for our electrical work, and after our visit, we’ll decide what other deficiencies need to be remedied in order to close.”

I really needed to get off this call so I figured I would just explain how wrong he was.

“Mr. Smith, there will be no buyer visit tomorrow and there will be no abatement of any kind.  You purchased a home after submitting an unconditional offer.  You decided to forego an inspection, which is your right as described in the pre-printed section of the standard Agreement of Purchase and Sale, and instead relied upon a third-party inspection, and signed a Schedule B which agreed to indemnify and hold harmless the seller and the listing agent….”

But he interrupted me.

He screamed.  He literally screamed.

Just a scream.  No words.  A scream.

Then like something out of a child’s scary dream, he said, “You…….don’t……talk……to me….”

And I paused.

“I-don’t-like-you,” he said, slowly, deliberately, and annunciating every single syllable with purpose.  “You’re arr-o-gant,” he added.

“Now you did it,” he said.  “You just cut off your nose to spite your face,” he said.

He then verbally assaulted me for, if I really sit down and think about it, was at least sixty seconds.

And for some reason, I stayed on the line.

He called me every name in the book.  He swore.  He made threats.  He told me he would “ruin me.”  He told me what he thought about my profession, my occupation, my qualifications, et al.

I don’t need to be specific, but I can tell you that this lasted sixty or eighty seconds before he finished by saying, “Wait until you get what’s coming!” and hung up.

Well….

…..who’s ready for birthday cake?

I’ve been selling real estate for almost twenty years and I’ve been writing Toronto Realty Blog for sixteen years.  I’ve had bad experiences and met bad people, and I’ve felt shitty from time to time.  But for some reason, this was the worst I had ever felt.

I felt sick.  I was actually affected physically.  And while I believe that I have one of the thickest skins of anybody in this business, there was something about this man’s voice, his tone, and the deliberate nature of his words and the way he spoke that was so incredibly violating, I felt nauseous.

Then, I opened the door to my office, walked into the dining room where I saw Jenna, Mom, Julie, Melly, Dad, Lynn, Samantha, Grams, Gramps, Duke, and Maya, and lit the candles on my daughter’s birthday cake.

I just took a look through my photos from that day, and while there are about thirty on my phone, and multiple photos of everybody in attendance, there’s only one of me.

Perhaps that was by design?

Maybe I felt so awful inside that I didn’t want to partake?

This is the only photo of myself and/or my family on my daughter’s fifth birthday:

I dunno, you guys tell me: can you see it in my eyes?

This is literally sixty seconds after I got off the phone with that man.  Sixty seconds after I took almost two minutes of uninterrupted, uncensored abuse.

It ruined my night, and while I don’t expect all or any of you to have sympathy for me, since it’s my job to deal with the public, felt like shit for days.

The deal closed, without issue, by the way.

There was no fifth buyer visit, nor was there an abatement for $5,000 or anything of the sort.

But the story doesn’t end there.

If it did, this would rank among the worst experiences and this man would rank among the worst people, but it’s what happens next that’s absolutely unbelievable.

Fast forward five weeks.

It’s Christmas Day.

After the morning festivities, we decided to take the kids tobogganing because there was a fresh coat of snow.

One of the reasons that I love Christmas-time is because my business slows down and, even if I allowed myself to be distracted, there’s often very little that can do so.  The phone barely chimes and almost never rings.

My son was cold so I left the park and ran home to get him a thicker coat, and when my phone chimed, I figured it was my wife asking me to get gloves, or a hat, or a drink for one of the kids.

But it wasn’t my wife.

It was that guy from the sale in November.

He was texting me – of all things, on Christmas Day, to really drive home how much he hated me.

It was clear, from his text message, that he had been stalking me too.

So here’s his message in full, unedited, which came in three texts:

Hello David.

I am writing this text to you confidentially.  I’m sure you recall the “pleasant” chat that we had on Saturday afternoon, November 20th.  I would be seriously remiss if I didn’t express what I felt about our conversation and I think that Christmas weekend is the perfect time to be candid.

During our call, you made a number of derogatory remarks about my lawyer and me, in regards to my pending purchase of (property address).  I’m not going to rehash every one of them here but instead may opt to report them to the Toronto Regional Real Estate Board or OREA in the future.

You are apparently impressed by your own ‘incredible’ track record, aren’t you?  Well, I’m honestly not.  Who even cares?  Neither do I care about all of those other purchasers that you alluded to.  Neither am I interested in the ‘fact’ that ‘David consistently ranks in the top 100 of the 50,000+ licensed Realtors in Toronto, and he holds the top spot as the #1 agent at Bosley Real Estate.  For me, it’s not about numbers or carefully contrived self-branding but rather how a person speaks and acts to their fellow human beings.  My only impression of you, and the one that I’ll always remember, is that you are extremely disrespectful, arrogant, rude, unprofessional, and condescending.  Basically, you seem full of yourself.  You may have been lucky that you got this far in your real estate career although I would suggest that, if you continue to treat others in the manner that you treated me, the accolades you’ve bestowed upon yourself will begin to wear thin and your true self will quickly become transparent.  All the best to you and yours for the holidays.  Respectfully, Dr. (name).

Seriously.

Who does this?

And why?

Why the need to email me five weeks later?

Why the need to stalk me, read my biography, and quote from it?

Why do this on Christmas Day, of all things?

You might say, “David, this man isn’t well, it’s obvious.”  But the thing is: he is well.  He’s a successful, gainfully-employed, fully-functioning member of society.  He’s not “unwell.”  He’s just a miserable human being.

There is no excusing his actions, which were deliberate, concise, premeditated, and carefully executed.

These actions come from a place that’s beyond malice.  And I don’t know where that place is, because I hope to never find myself there.

So there you have it, folks.

You asked!

In fact, many of you asked!

That’s a story about the worst person I have ever encountered in all my time in the real estate industry, and while this experience could trump the one described on Monday, it didn’t have the same impact on my career and self-confidence (back in 2006…), thus it’s not “the worst.”

Something tells me that might come as a disappointment to the Doctor.

Well, alright then.

Who’s next to share? 🙂