First up, we have a story from our friend Laurel. Read on for all the fun, and stay tuned to vote today.
"After renting in South Lake Union for a couple of years, my fiancé and I decided we were ready to purchase our first place. My uncle happens to be a realtor in Montana and offered to 'refer' us to a Seattle agent. This way, he could gift us his share of the commission after closing. Good in theory, right?
The agent schedules our first outing in West Seattle. As an avid HGTV fan, I’m thrilled to finally be house hunting. The big day arrives, and we drive to the first place where we’re scheduled to meet our realtor. After we sat waiting in the car for 20 minutes, our realtor calls to say he can’t make it but has arranged for the selling agent to walk us through. It was then that we realized there was a guy sitting in a car in the driveway. Thinking it was the selling agent, we tapped on the window. The guy retorts he was 'just the person who got kicked out of the house so some asshole realtor could walk through.'"
"Sans said 'asshole realtor,' we walk to the front door and realize it’s open. A realtor – but not the selling agent – is walking another couple through. We should have turned around after our noticing the entryway carpet was caked with mud, but for whatever reason, figured it was worth our time to do quick walk through.
Before I go on, it’s important to note the place had been built within the last year and marketed as 'never lived in.' However, it was clear there were renters. The place reeked of smoke, due in part to a flower pot in the kitchen filled to the brim with cigarette butts. The kitchen cabinets and hardwood floors were damaged beyond repair, and dishes in the sink actually had mold growing on them. A bong was sitting on the coffee table along with a small bag of weed.
Slightly perplexed by the train wreck of a situation, we decided to go upstairs. Similar to the entryway, the carpet is caked with mud. Bedrooms smell strongly of B.O. and pot. Large holes speckle the walls. And – the icing on the cake – a cat’s litter box is in the hallway, completely filled with cat feces and radiating the most vile stench imaginable. In fact, the wall behind the litter box was also sprayed with feces and urine.
We decided to call it quits there. On our way out the door, we made two phone calls: one to fire our realtor and another to secure a year-long lease on our current apartment."