Recently a friend and colleague was telling me how tired she was from a week of PTA, cookie sales, shlepping clients, fielding calls, negotiating contracts, and taking license renewal classes. She said she feared she’d be DOA at her next appointment, but she knew her IPhone would continue ringing long after she was six feet under and trying to finally catch up on some sleep. Silently I wondered if there is such a thing as Multitask Fatigue Insurance, and whether the coroner would declare her demise as Death by Real Estate.
When I asked her what her real Estate Tombstone would say, she replied, “Escrowed and then some.” Ever the probing journalist, when I asked other colleagues about their Real Estate epitaphs, I collected the following final words and added my own little eulogy to each:
Last Words and Quick Blurbs
Fred Glick: “Sold!” (Fred was foreclosed from his head to his toes…the lender lost patience, which really blows.)
Matt Stigliano: “Bought in 1972, Foreclosed on in 2072.” (Matt’s sure not hurrin’ to be a centurion, cuz in ’72 he’ll be Deed-in-Lieu.)
Tanya Nouwens: “Here lies a woman…who tried…and died.” (Now there’s six feet o’ dirt up poor Tanya’s skirt.)
Jan Caswell Pastras: “Finally – a home with no mortgage payments.” (Jan had to dash so she paid all cash – it’s dark, it’s dug, it’s cold but snug.)
(Brandie Young: “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” (It’s dark and ghostly, you’re toast, so it’s toasty.)
Grant Hammond: “He never let a deal die, but he eventually did.” (He took nothing for Granted until he was planted.)
Patrick Martin: “He sold in the Hills…then he was over the hill…now he’s under the hill.” (Patrick, now relaxing, was a mover and shaker, but he’ll roll in his grave with our next big quaker.)
Antony Bland, my licensed assistant: “Here I lie and no wonder I’m dead, cuz my faulty Toyota ran over my head.” (There Antony lies suckin’ up sap, because he drove a piece o’ crap.)
Joe Loomer: “Underneath all is the land. Underneath the land is Joe Loomer.” (Joe was a fruit of the loomer known for his humor, who crapped out on the john according to rumor.)
“I Laughed to keep from Cry’n. I Believed to keep from Doubt’n.
I Hugged to keep from Slug’n. I Went to keep from Stay’n.”
(Ken didn’t know if he was coming or going, ’til he suddenly felt the formaldehyde flowing.)
Gwen Banta: “Listing Expired.” (The mean ‘ol undertaker kicked her tires, then declared her dead cuz he could find no buyers; she had partied hearty and didn’t give a damn, and thus assisted the Repo man. He lectured her on “an ounce of prevention,” but he refused to give her a listing extension. Her rhyming sucked and her mind was sick, but give her a break, cuz her head was thick.)
THE REAL DEAL
As a diversion from the pressure of real estate, here are some REAL epitaphs that will make you chuckle:
Winston Churchill (1874 – 1965)
I am ready to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal
of meeting me is another matter.
Bette Davis (1908-1989)
She did it the hard way.
Groucho Marx (1895-1977)
Here lies Groucho Marx
and Lies and Lies and Lies
P.S. He never kissed an ugly girl.
Jonathan Grober (dates unknown)
Jonathan Grober
Died dead sober.
Lord thy wonders never cease.
John Edwards (died 1904)
John Edwards who perished in a fire
None could hold a candle to him.
Unknown Vicar (18th Century)
He was literally a father to all the children of the parish.
W.C. Fields (1880-1946)
Here lies W.C. Fields.
On the whole I would rather be living in Philadelphia.
(I can show you some property, Mr. Fields….)
