I promised you a doozie of a story today, I know.

A friend of mine has heard today’s story already, and upon telling her that it was the focus of today’s blog post, she remarked, “Dude, your cat and dog story from Monday is way better.”

I’m wasn’t so sure about that.

But then she said, “Didn’t this ‘Stacey’ chick also show up to the office one day with a baby raccoon?”

Ah.

Right.

I neglected to mention that in Monday’s post, as it didn’t really have anything to do with her kidnapping the dog and forcibly confining the cat, but it sure adds a cherry on top now!

It’s true.  “Stacey” did show up at the office one day with a baby raccoon, saying, “Look what I found!”

Imagine a group of people all wondering in unison, “Ummm……you found…..rabies?”

This tale is a story unto itself, but let’s just say that Stacey brought this baby raccoon into her apartment and fed it kitty milk for two weeks before we finally convinced her that Toronto raccoons will stare into your eyes and then take your soul…

For those of you who didn’t read Monday’s blog, or who found this post randomly on Google years later, you have absolutely no clue what I’m talking about.

But it’s okay.

We were talking about etiquette in the real estate space, specifically as it pertains to property viewings in 2026.

Expectations, customs, best practices, and business practices.

Paint points and………areas for improvement?

On Monday, we talked about double-bookings, open houses, using the bathroom, and, of course, pets, among other things.

Today, I want to regale you with a story about “sharing,” or rather, refusing to do so.  Maybe this story cuts deeper.  Maybe it’s about “insanity,” but you be the judge…

Last summer, I was showing an east-end property on a beautiful, sunny summer day.  It was the kind of day that makes you smile when you get into your car to go to work, even though you happen to be working on a Saturday.

Little did I know that while the sun would be shining one hour later when I got back into my car to head home, I would be doing anything but smiling.

I had a 4:15pm showing booked for the house, and I arrived at about 4:10pm.

I walked up the front steps and found that the lockbox was already open, with the keypad facing out, so I figured that another agent was already inside.

Upon walking into the foyer, a woman jumped out and said, “Hi, um, who are you?  This isn’t an open house.”

She asked a question, but made a statement too.

Which to answer first?

“I’m David Fleming with Bosley Real Estate,” I told her, as I chose to address her issues in order.  “I know the open house ended at 4:00pm,” I said, “But that’s fine, I’m doing a buyer-broker showing, and I have a confirmation for 4:15pm.”

She said, “Well, you can’t.  I have a showing booked now.”

I wasn’t sure if this was confusion, selfishness, or something else, but I was in a great mood and wasn’t looking to complicate things, so I simply closed the door and unlaced my shoes in the front hall.

“We’re all friends here,” I told her.  “No reason you can’t show the house to your clients, and I can’t show the house to mine.”

I meant that as a statement, but it turns out she thought there was a question mark on the end.

She said, “Is that a fact?” and I looked up as I took my shoes off.

She asked, “Do you have the key?”

This is where I started to think we might have a problem.

I obviously did not have the key, since the lockbox was open, she was inside the house, and I could see the key shining in her right hand as she stood talking to me.

I smiled and said, “The lockbox, code 1867, was open, so I assume the key is in your possession, and you’ll give it to me when you’re finished, so I can lock up.”

I was showing her that I knew the lockbox code, which I did, of course, because I had a gosh-darned showing booked!

“Nancy, we know each other,” I told her.  “We’ve worked together before.”

Her name obviously wasn’t Nancy, but this old battle-axe was a full-on “Nance,” if you catch my drift.

“David Fleming,” I told her.  “Bosley Real Estate.  Vanderhoof office.  And you are Nancy (lastname) from XYZ Real Estate,” I explained.  “It’s okay, Nancy.  We’re just double-booked.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh, then took an even more exaggerated inhale – with her arms, and exhaled for effect.

“No,” she said.  “This is not happening.”

Before I could reply, there was a knock at the front door, and my clients came inside.

I greeted them and said, “We’re double-booked, this is a popular house!  My colleague, Nancy, is just waiting for her clients as well, so we’ll all be viewing the house at the same time.”

Nancy’s jaw was open, as she stood there, catching flies and staring.

For the record, my clients were real.  They were not paid actors.  More on that later…

I toured my clients through the house, and I was sure to do the courteous thing first and ask Nance if she wanted to start upstairs or downstairs.

Nance didn’t answer, of course, so I took my clients down to the basement to start.

When we came up from the basement six or seven minutes later, I saw Nancy’s clients had arrived and were standing with her in the foyer.

“We’ll head upstairs then,” I told Nancy, providing a buffer for her and her clients.

Nancy whispered to her clients, “I’m sorry, please ignore him, he shouldn’t be here,” and I headed upstairs with my buyers.

We spent a good ten minutes upstairs, as this was a three-storey house and there was a lot to look at, but when we came down from the third storey to the second storey, I could hear Nancy on the phone one level below me.

“…I have absolutely no idea who this man is,” Nancy was whisper-shouting into the phone.  “He says he’s a real estate agent, but I don’t know him!  I don’t!”

All of a sudden, I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I don’t want to call it “anxiety” because I don’t want to admit that Nancy upset me, but it was that combination of uneasiness, frustration, and lack of control that gets a person off balance.  Throw in the feeling of something being unfair, and I can’t stop the physical reaction.

“This is my time,” Nancy said into the phone.  “He shouldn’t be here!”

I realized that she was most likely speaking to the listing agent, who is an absolute doll and one of my favourites.  I would love to call her out, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, but I won’t.  I’ll just say that meets the trifecta of top-producing, well-respected, and much-experienced.  I’ve never heard an agent say a single bad word about her.

Nancy continued to rage into the phone.

“I’m booked for 4:00pm,” she said.  “And this strange man is here, with these PEOPLE!  Who are these PEOPLE?” she asked.

Actors, obviously…

I was way too far away to hear anything coming through the other end of the phone, but I know the listing agent, and I know that she was going to be very diplomatic.

“He’s here during my time,” Nancy said again.  “I have a confirmed appointment!  He shouldn’t be here!  God only knows what he’s doing up there!”

Getting into the bed, obviously…

At this point, I decided to act like an adult, walk downstairs, and address the issue head-on.

I told my clients, “I think the agent downstairs is having a problem, I’m gonna go help,” and I casually slipped downstairs.

I found Nancy in the kitchen, with her body turned toward the window, slumped over her phone.

“I don’t want him here,” Nancy was quietly shouting into the phone.  “This isn’t right,” she said.

I cleared my throat like they do in the movies and said, “Ahem.”

She turned around, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen a person look, and I said, “Nancy, I know you’re on the phone with Alice, so maybe we could all just talk and sort this thing out?”

“You do not talk to me,” Nancy said as she wagged her finger like a cartoon mom.  “You don’t belong here.”

I could hear Alice shouting through the phone.

“Nancy, Nancy, calm down,” Alice was saying.  “Nancy, listen to me, listen very carefully,” she was trying to say.

Nancy was holding the phone at arm’s length as she continued to berate me.

“This is my time slot,” she said.  “I don’t want you here when I’m doing my showing.  I booked this time.  I want my time!”

I took two steps back, thinking that she could benefit from both literal and figurative space, and I said, “Nancy, this isn’t COVID.  Double-bookings happen all the time.  I’m your colleague.  I’m a buyer agent, just like you, and I’m showing the house to my clients, just like you.”

I could hear Alice on the phone.

“Nancy?  NANCY?”

“No!  There can only be one agent here at a time, and I don’t believe you have an appointment confirmation,” Nancy said.  “I think you’re a liar, I think you’re here under false pretenses, and I’m going to report you,” she screamed.

Alice was shouting through the other end of the line.

“NANCY!  NAAAN-CY,” she shouted.

Nancy finally put the phone back to her ear, and Alice completely changed her tune.

I could hear Alice say, “Nancy, this is my listing, not yours.  I make the rules, not you,” she said with authority.

“We’re allowing double-bookings, just as ninety-five percent of listing agents do,” she explained.  “David has a confirmed appointment which overlaps with yours.  This was emailed to you through BrokerBay…”

Nancy said, “Well, I never saw that email…”

Alice replied, “That’s not my problem!  Act professional!  Show some courtesy!  That’s David Fleming.”

Nancy gave me the paintbrush, looking me up and down, and then said into the phone slowly, “Well…..I’ve never heard of him!”

Alice said, “Nancy, you find it within yourself to act professional, share the space with David, exchange the key with him – whoever leaves first, or so help me God, I will take you to RECO and crucify you….”

Nancy clicked her phone off and put it in her pocket.

It absolutely killed me to continue being pleasant, but I gave it another shot.

“Nancy, I really, truly don’t understand what happened here today.  I’m sorry if you’re not used to double-bookings, but….”

She cut me off.

“Do NOT talk to me,” she said.  “I’m leaving.”

I didn’t get through to her.

Alice obviously didn’t get through to her.

I said, “Are you going to hand me the key?”

That’s protocol, by the way.  If you’ve finished your showing and another buyer agent is inside the property, you ask for a business card or the appointment confirmation email (if you don’t already know the agent, of course), and then hand off the key.

“I’m taking this key,” Nancy told me.  “I’m putting this back in the lockbox where I know it will be safe and sound,” she said.  “This is not my problem.”

Then she did exactly that.

I watched her walk outside, open the lockbox, put the key inside, close it, spin the combination dial, and slam it against the wall.

She then looked up at me and sneered.

So I went over to the lockbox, punched in the code, opened it, and took the key out, all while looking at her.

She just shook her head and walked away.

It was absolute lunacy.

And before you suggest that there was “more to the situation,” like maybe she was inexperienced, or confused, she wasn’t.  She was just a real……………….piece of work.

I wanted to say the word, but that would reduce me to her level.  Or worse.  But you’re all thinking what I’m thinking.

Was it entitlement?

Ego?  Selfishness?

I don’t know that it was any one of those things, on its own.  I think this is just a case of “people being people.”

This agent used to work in the public sector.  She used to be trusted with authority over a large portion of our population, and maybe she’s just looking to gain back control in some area of her life, however small, irrelevant, or misplaced.  I don’t know.

My clients thought it was amusing.

“She’s a real peach,” the wife said to me.

But I left that showing feeling kind of sad and disturbed.

Because Nancy probably left the house and told somebody she knows, “You wouldn’t believe the experience I just had,” as though she had been catastrophically wronged, and that’s what’s so hard to accept in today’s world.  “Right” and “wrong” are essentially interchangeable, depending on how you’d like them to fit your narrative.

This real estate market is hard enough to navigate without encountering people like this on a regular basis, but sadly, we run into people like this all the time.

But I do have some good news to finish with!

We’re into April now, which means the March TRREB stats should be released any day now.

This means we’re getting a very lengthy stats blog on Monday!

Everybody’s looking forward to that, right?

Have a great weekend, folks!