My scariest real estate story just happened to take place in late October.  I was sitting an Open House in a new subdivision, but I was the only agent in the sub that day.  We had had fairly steady traffic most of the day, mostly young families looking for "oh my gosh, we need a bigger house" style homes.  The home I had open was a perfect example of the style, and built by one of the name builders in town.  I remember early in the afternoon, I was answering questions for a really nice couple with two kids in tow.  It was early enough in the day that the kids weren't bored to unruliness yet, and we were all getting along pretty good.  They didn't have a REALTOR working for them yet, so I was working hard for the job.  You know what I mean, we've all had that scene.

A gentleman came in by himself while I was with my customers.  I excused myself a minute and walked over to him, explained I'd only be a short while, if he had any questions.  He was very reserved.  Tan pants, blue shirt, London Fog type jacket.  Mentioned something about not needing any help, he was just looking at the floorplan. I went back to my original family and continued showing them around.  Another couple came in, and London Fog walked out without saying anything.  You all recognize this situation, don't you?  Another tire kicker, and I didn't think much more about it.

A bit later, during a time when there were no visitors in the home, this same man pulls up in front, and just as he's getting out, another family pulls up as well.  The kids are a little older, they know the drill, and come rocketing in the front door, and promptly peel off in different directions, followed by this odd man, and then their parents.  I'm paying more attention to the kids, my house, the parents... you know how it is.  He waves me off helping him, mumbles something about helping the family, and dissappears into the living room of the house.  I give the parents the tour.  They love the house, and I'm thrilled, with my second hot contact of the day.  As we are standing in the doorway of the kitchen, I feel someone walk up behind me, and DANG this guy is just about right on my back.  Much closer than people usually stand to someone they don't know.  Now I'm getting the creepys... you know what I mean.  This guy says something about being an investor from California, in town looking to buy a couple houses, he likes the sub, yada, yada, "I'll be back when you're not so busy", and he turns around and just walks out.  Too weird...

So another hour goes by, and I've got the willies going pretty good, so I call another agent and tell him the situation.  He says "you've had a good day already, and it's getting dark, so if there isn't any traffic in the sub, why not just close it up and go home?"  Yes, an excellent idea... I'm not feeling real inclined to any more "customer service challenges" at this point.  In fact, I'm downright spooked, and it's getting dark fast.  So, I pull my signs, pack up the laptop and brochures, and start working my way through the house turning off the lights.  I'm upstairs, turning off the lights in the media room bath, when I hear the front door open and heavy footsteps coming fast up the stairs... whoever this is knows the layout of the house!  My heart is thumping, I can hardly breathe, and I can see my name in tomorrow's papers "Realtor Ambushed In Vacant House".  Think, think...what am I going to do now?  I crouch down behind the door, in the dark, and hold my breath.  I hear him make the top of the stairs and he pokes his head in the media room, but he doesn't notice me in the dark.  I hear him go into the small bedrooms, and when I hear his footsteps on the tile floor of the jack'n'jill bathroom I jump up and make a break for it.  In my haste to get out from behind the door, I accidentally smack it into the wall.  The noise alerts my stalker, and I hear him come charging out of the back bedroom just as I make it to the stairs.  I'm going down them two and three at a time, use the banister and posts to swing around the landing, just like when I was 10 years old.  He's taking the stairs as fast as I am, and he's right behind me, but he doesn't turn as well as I do and hits the landing wall.  That gives me just enough time to make it to the entry and out the door.  I'm running as fast as I can to my car, so grateful that I had unlocked it already to start loading up!  I hear him coming up behind me, and I seem to be losing this race... this CAN'T be happening.  As I lurch into the front seat his foot hits some wet leaves on sidewalk.  I'm just about into the seat, and I can hear him falling forward towards  me.  He reaches out and catches me by the leg as he falls to the ground.  I'm fumbling the key in the ignition and trying to make him let go so I can drive away.  I shout at him "Let GO! Let GO!", and he starts pulling my leg...

just like I'm pulling yours now.

Sorry gang, I couldn't help it .  But in the words of Sgt. Phil Esterhaus on "Hill Street Blues"... "Be careful out there."