“It’s at 2:30 on Friday. But it’s fine. Just have your house and food completely ready, and come in your Shabbos clothing”
Neil Starr was a guy worth pleasing. He was a well-connected businessman, and he had a spacious home he was thinking of selling. I wanted to be his realtor.
But Neil Starr was also impossible to pin down. Every time I managed to get him on the phone — and even that was a challenge — he reiterated how much he wanted to meet. And then he’d promptly nix every possible meeting time I offered.
Finally, on our fourth call, he said, “You know what? I should have an opening at 2:30 on Friday afternoon. Swing by then, and we can talk.”
It was the dead of winter; candle lighting was at 4:38. But I’d make it work. I called Malky, a new employee I was training. “We finally have a time for our listing appointment with Neil!” I crowed.
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