I've got this MagLight in my car--you know, one of those black metal heavy flashlights that can fell a deer with one swing--but I am always forgetting to buy batteries. So we go into a foreclosed house, where there is no electricity and waning daylight, and I pull out the MagLight and click it on. Out streams this little dribble of light, and my client makes this face that looks like a cross between disappointment and impatience. This is the first house we've seen together. So in an effort to look less unprepared I pat my pockets expectantly, as if I always keep a pair of D batteries in my pants. Then I act surprised when I don't find any.
"This all you got?" my client says.
I nod sadly. "If we conserve and let our eyes adjust to each room, we can make it work."
So we start in the basement, poking the pathetic little beam into the corners and waiting until we can make out shapes, and I cheerfully point out all the wonderful features.
"Imagine the workshop you could put here."
"Imagine," he says, "if we could see whether that breaker box is in good shape."
"Imagine," I say, "if you took up darkroom photography."
We have an appointment for some more houses and if my experience is any indication, he'll will not come unprepared. He'll show up with one of those giant flashlights suitable for signaling aircraft, and even though all of the rest of the houses we'll look at will have electricity, he'll shine that light on everything, and I'll resist the urge to wear sunglasses..
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