I’m in awe. I’m not talking about meeting the President or Dalai Lama or George Clooney, I’m talking about real estate agents. All real estate agents. Seriously, how do they do what they do? Do they have unusually high pain thresholds that were developed in their alien mothers’ wombs? Do they eat a lot of superfoods, such as spinach soaked in plutonium? Or are they simply, unabashedly insane? I honestly believe that I would not last one single day as a real estate agent. After ten minutes of forced enthusiasm for the haunted house I am showing my clients, I would literally jump out the window, regardless of whether it was open. Add that to a list that includes constant bickering with other agents, showing picky clients hundreds of houses before they decide to rent and withstanding the abominable horror of seeing how other people live day in and day out, and you’ve got the ultimate nightmare job description. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if the job has negative effects on their personal lives. For example, real estate agents are always agreeing with their clients’ horrible ideas about how to utilize a space. “Why, yes, you could put a toilet on the porch. How…creative.” So what happens when they go home? “Why, yes sweetie, you could put baking soda on your spaghetti. How…creative.” It’s anarchy, I tell you. ANARCHY!