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Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 24

En garde

I’ve been worrying about our newest member of staff. She’s fresh out of school, an absolute stunner, with a sweet nature, and she’s being sent out on viewings. I don’t like it. It has never occurred to me before to worry about being in an empty house with a stranger but I’m not happy about her being in that position. She may be fine. She may never have to deal with some old creep’s unwanted attentions. I mention my concerns several times but my colleagues, and this little cutie-pie, all look blankly at me as if I’m being neurotic. I let it go.

Today, for the first time, I’m sitting in my car and I know I’ve got an odd one. I see a man shuffling about near the house where I’m to meet my next client. I know he’s my man because he is walking strangely; he looks shifty and disturbing, and I wouldn’t go near him if I had a choice. Well, at least it’s me not the youngster who’s out here.

I stride up to him and act like I’m taller and wider than I really am. I’m very physical with the door and actively take up a lot of space when I step inside the house, speaking loudly and exhibiting masterful control of the situation. After a few minutes and a lot of time wasting in the garden I recognize that I’m putting off taking him upstairs.

It has to be done but I have a brainwave and send him up first. There’s no way I’m going to get cornered by this laddie. It’s a small place but I manage to stay behind him so that he has to enter the bedrooms while I stay in the hall and point at items of interest, still talking loudly and confidently, and filling the doorframe. I lead the way downstairs feeling pretty triumphant, let’s face it. I survived the two of us staring mutely at the large double bed. I am so intimidating.

I even think I may have made a sale. I smile broadly and hold out my hand for a solid shake, and closure. He looks deep into my eyes, takes my right hand firmly within his, then leans forward with his left hand as well, for a double clasp. I am outside, standing in the road, yet I feel stifled; held by his gaze, and enclosed by his hands.

I wonder what cute little Emily would have done, and I’m glad she didn’t have to.
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