Last weekend was a busy one!  I was going from appointment to appointment all day Saturday, and I was pretty exhausted by the end of it.  Thankfully, I had a date night out with my husband to look forward to when I was done working.  I met a new client, and after our initial appointment, we decided to go look at a couple houses. 

I have a habit of locking the front door when I am showing houses.  In this crazy, hot market, there is often an agent or two right behind me waiting to show the same house.  I lock the door to keep them out and to give my client the time they need in the house.  So, my client and I stepped inside, and I locked the front door behind us.  We looked around the house and then headed toward the back of the house to take a look at the yard and detached garage.  As we stepped into the yard, the back door closed behind us.  And you guessed it, it was locked!

So, I had successfully locked myself and my brand new client out of this house.  I tried calling the listing agent to see if she had a spare key and she didn't answer my calls or texts.  We tried the windows and the sliding glass door to no avail.  So I decided to run really fast to show my client the second house she wanted to see.  While I am showing the other house, I get a text from the agent... that is the ONLY key to the house.  Of course it is.  She begs me to go back to try to break in somehow.

I finish up with my client and head back to the locked house.  I go from window to window trying to pry off the screens with my keys and pull as hard as I can on each window.  Nothing.  I try climbing up by the kitchen window to see if I can somehow shake it loose and open.  Nothing.  I try a trick I saw on youtube to get the slider open.  Nothing.  Meanwhile, the neighbors have let out their two enormous dogs who are barking at me right at the fence.  I'm sure they will eat me.  I'm also sure the cops will show up any minute wondering why I'm trying to break into this house.

I finally decide that there's no breaking into this house.  As I'm trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to get that dumb key out of the living room, it dawns on me that I can call a locksmith.  Locksmith is sure he can help but he needs permission from the owner of the house with proof that it's her house.  So, I reach back out to the listing agent (who probably wants to kill me at this point) to get her client's permission.  Easier said than done because she lives out of state and not in this house.  So she has to go digging for something that has her name and the address of this house on it.  Finally, she finds something and the locksmith heads my way.  

The 12 year old locksmith pulls up in his van and in about two minutes opens up the house for me.  THANK YOU!  He then asks for my credit card for payment, so I go to my car to grab it.  It's not there.  I have somehow managed to leave my entire wallet at home.  I ask him if takes checks and of course he probably doesn't even know what checks are.  So, we stand there awkwardly for a while.  

Two hours I was there at that house trying to break in and waiting to rescue the ONLY key.  But, finally, I was on my way to meet my husband for a nice dinner out--covered in dirt and dust from trying to break into a house!

Written by Becka Marston

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