A few years ago, my in-laws were in town, and we all went to the local farmers’ market to get our veggies for the week and peruse the wares. My father-in-law wandered off, and we found him in front of a stand where the vendor insisted his wife made “the world’s greatest peach pie.” The proud husband told us about the awards and titles she had won, and — 20 minutes later — we pulled out our wallets to try it for ourselves. After a pitch like that, how can anyone resist? After dinner, with much anticipation and fanfare, we cut into the pie. It looked good. It smelled good. But it tasted like wet drywall. The world’s greatest peach pie, it most certainly was not. In hindsight, that vendor hawking deceptive baked goods has an awful lot in common with listing agents — the ones we hate working with. Just like biting into a tasteless chunk of carbs and sugar, I get a bad taste in my mouth when listing agents are, at best, fudging the details and, at worst, lying…
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