The Broker Mocked the New Agent at the Open House—Then a Stranger Read the Signature Line Out Loud
"Get her out — she's not touching my listing." Sondra Hollis said it to the room, not to me, the way you'd ask someone to move a wet umbrella.
I'm Corinne. Two years licensed, and this was my listing — the photos, the sign, every showing. Sondra owns Hollis & Co. She hired me. Now she was telling two buyers and three neighbors I was "the temp."
If I walked, the open house ended and the commission was hers.
"Then read the agent-of-record line," I said.
Sondra laughed. Then she called our office manager on speaker and said, "Terminated for cause," so the whole dining room heard it. Two buyers stepped back toward the door.
I stayed. Folder against my chest. I didn't touch a single brochure.
Then a woman in a gray blazer — the seller's attorney, at the head of the table the whole time — slid one page across the tablecloth. "May I — the seller's signed page is right here." The room went quiet the way rooms do when someone with a law license speaks.
I assumed she'd hand it to Sondra. She turned it toward the buyers instead and asked out loud whose license number was on the agent-of-record line.
Mine. The seller's wet-ink signature sat right above it, dated the week before. Sondra's copy was underneath, her block letters written over my name in the margin.
Maggie didn't raise her voice. She just read it. "The seller signed her name — and it isn't on your line."
Sondra's smile stayed. Her eyes moved first. Then her hand — straight for the tote with the office copy inside. One buyer asked her, quietly, "Is that your handwriting?"
I never changed that page. I still don't know if the seller knew, or how long this had been running, or how many other listings have her initials in the margins.
I said one thing back. "I never changed it. Did you?"
Sondra is asking for the file. The seller walks in any minute. The rest of this afternoon — what the board does, what the seller signs at the kitchen island, and what happens when Sondra's overwritten page goes into an evidence folder — that's the part I haven't told yet. Read the full story below before the next open house.
Advertisement
You may also like
The Deacon Slammed His Hand on the Potluck Table and Accused Her of Robbing the Offering — Until She Handed Margaret One Signed Slip
The deacon slammed his plate down on the folding table and said it loud enough for the whole potluck to hear: "Cora, the Lord's…
She Served Champagne at the Billionaire’s Wedding—Then the Scent of Lavender Made Him Remember the Promise He Had Broken
Lily Carter had spent fifteen years teaching herself that childhood promises meant nothing, especially when the boy who made them grew into billionaire Gr…
She Served Champagne at the Billionaire’s Wedding—Then the Scent of Lavender Made Him Remember the Promise He Had Broken
Lily Carter had spent fifteen years teaching herself that childhood promises meant nothing, especially when the boy who made them grew into billionaire Gr…
The Desk Sergeant Shoved Me Into the Sandbag Wall at Gate 3, Then I Pointed at the Signature He Forged With His Left Hand
"Point at the page. Say nothing." That was the only thing going through my head when Staff Sergeant Mullins put both hands on my…