We arrive at the Upper East Side building around 3:30 p.m., 10 or 15 minutes early for our showing appointment, and the concierge calls up to the agent.
He descends soon thereafter, and the first words out of his mouth are that we were expected 15 minutes earlier. The buyers I am representing and I introduce ourselves. The broker — call him “Sam” — does not.
I note that we changed the appointment from 3:15 to 3:45 in a series of e-mails trying to fix a mutually convenient time and apologize for any misunderstanding.
“Violet never told me,” he replies.
“Violet?” I wonder, Continue reading
I, on Cambodia 