Our real estate agent is a great guy. Helpful, competent, hard-working. But he spent his life in the deep Midwest and it shows.
In our initial meeting, he creeped out N. by trying to enter into a male bonding process with him. His attempts at male camaraderie through a series of winks and “Well you know how ladies are, we guys can never understand them” comments did not produce the desired effect. N. gets alarmed and starts looking longingly at the door when these things happen.
Yesterday, the agent tried pulling this Midwestern macho trick again. As I was talking about things I needed to appear in the offer, he interrupted me and addressed N. with, “Well, you are the boss here, N. You get to decide.”
“No, I’m the boss,” I said. “And as I was saying. . .”
After a while, the agent understood that he was doing something wrong and started looking at me when I spoke. He also had to stop trying to recruit N over to his side.
“Oh,” he said to me. “When I prepared the offer, I put his name first and your second. I will redo it immediately. I also have to ask, are you two legally married?”
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