“Santa baby, I want a yacht and that’s really not/a lot … “
OK, seriously, Santa, I don’t need a yacht but I really do need a spam filter. I have three personal e-mails, two Web site e-mails, and my work e-mail, and they’re awfully clogged by the royal family of Nigeria trying to get me do a bank transfer.
Also, I appreciate the e-mails saying, “Hey, it’s Haylie,” but I don’t know anyone named Haylie, and the hour a day I spend fending her off tires me out.
Also, Santa, can I please have a graphic designer? Just someone part time, so I can do better direct-mail bits. Maybe the graphic designer could be married to a photographer, so that I’d have nice sharp images, too.
I forgot, too, that my feet are going. All this walking around with clients is doing great things for my figure, but maybe, Santa, you could stuff my stocking with some arch supports?
I’m not trying to be really greedy so you don’t need to bring me big bags of cash but if you could transport a couple to my clients who are slow about putting down their condo deposit, that would be nice.
Also, I don’t suppose you could fit a view guarantee into your sleigh, some sort of agreement that the apartment that sees the water will always see the water, and will never have that lovely sight impinged by the construction of a nasty skyscraper?
What else? Square footage that is what it’s purported to be, just for kicks. Thoughtful layouts and historical details. An extra bedroom that appears just when my customer starts to walk away.
Xanax for all the real estate lawyers, of course, and champagne for the title closers, especially for the ones who don’t attempt to explain to me the details of all those miracles that they work. The mortgage guys already get paid, but maybe we could have another quarter-point rent break (Hey Santa, are you and Ben Bernanke the same person?)
Nice weather in August for my sponsoring broker, so he’ll stay out at the beach and I can swipe, I mean assist, his clients.
While you’re at it, can you make all the brokers on the other side of the deal as nice as Linda and Rich and Rose Ann and Soraya?
And maybe give me better, more professional handwriting since my brother says I should have been a doctor since no one can read it? And get my brother something nice plus a bop on the head, please. He just got a summer house so maybe some nice porch furniture or something.
You do have all-weather porch furniture that doesn’t crack or need oiling or painting, right?
I figure the elves make that in the same workshop where they make the wood floors that don’t scratch or ding and the granite that never needs sealing. Bring some of that.
Oh, and toys for the poor kids and peace on earth. That’s not to much to ask, is it?