A Glimpse Into the Life of a Married Real Estate Agent

Married real estate agents seem to be far more productive than single agents. It’s not like I have any statistics to throw at you; just my observations. I suspect it’s because we get to a point in our lives where we have fewer activities to keep in checks and balances. For me, it’s pretty much: job, husband, cats and Elizabeth Weintraub Team members. Not always in that order but not a lot of distractions. However, last week I seemed to have caused a big ol’ ruckus with one of my banks, and not sure how it happened.

It began when I could not download transactions. A few days earlier, the bank had called to say it had forgotten to make a large deposit for me. I don’t know how the bank forgot. The manager apologized. When I signed in online to check my account, the bank showed zero accounts. Nothing. The possibility I was hacked crossed my mind. I called tech support. Dude said I had not authorized my new debit card (although I had) so they removed all of my accounts from online access. Bit extreme, I thought.

Without going into boring details, although I woke the dead in the Land Park Cemetery yelling for a representative, the bank sent a new card but no PIN. After much screaming, I got the bank to set up a new PIN for me over the phone. But to get that PIN number, they asked a whole bunch of personal questions. Some of which the correct answer was none of the selections. One of the questions was do I know a, let’s say, Bernardo Telephone . I said no. The tech support sputtered under his breath. Seemed like a wrong answer.

OK, hmmm . . . I was married once to a man with the last name of Telephone, I offered. But Bernardo was not his name. Oh, wait, he went by a nickname. So I guess Bernardo could have been his first name. I revised my answer. Yes, he was probably an ex-husband. Hey, it’s not my fault, I’ve had 6 weddings. Can’t keep ’em all straight. Too long ago.

I guess I floored the tech guy on the phone. He didn’t want to ask. I could tell he didn’t want to ask. But he couldn’t help himself. You know, when you’re in your mid 60’s, you don’t remember with great clarity all of your ex-husbands from 30 or 40 years ago. I’m not just one of those married real estate agents, I’ve been married to my last husband — I hate to say final because what if he died — for almost several decades.

Tech guy then had another question. How old was Bernardo? I barely recall being married to him, do you think I know his age? Holy moly. But when he gave me the category of 80, I suddenly recalled he was a lot older than me. Gosh, I’m so glad I’m not married to him now. That’s pretty old, LOL. Fortunately, I picked the right answer, but it was a bit of a long shot.

When I shared that story with my husband, he could not believe it. But he is a different sort of character. I’ll give you an example. After he walked in the door last week carrying bags of take-out food for dinner, he called me into the kitchen.

I’ve got something to show you from this morning, he mentioned, there is a spot of cat puke on the floor over here. At least it looks like cat puke, not sure.

I bent over to see what he was pointing to.

That could be a spot over here, he continued, and pointed to another area. But this spot right here definitely looks like cat puke.

I could not believe what I was hearing. The tone of his voice sounded as though he thought I should clean it up.

Leaning even closer, I prodded him, “Are you sure?”

I was waiting for him to say he would clean it up, but those words never left his lips. Sometimes, ya gotta take the direct route.

Do you think I am the cat puke cleaner upper?

Well, he just got home from work, and he brought dinner, and who brought all of these cats into the house in the first place? He is a smart man. Not a person to dig himself a bigger hole. He loves those cats just as much as I do.

Finally he grabbed paper towels, the Resolve and cleaned up the cat puke.

And that’s why I am still a married real estate agent and not married to some doofus whose name I can’t even recall when asked a bunch of security questions.