We had some company visiting us this week and I thought it would be a good idea to go get some fresh Connecticut peaches that we could all enjoy during their stay. Most of the South Glastonbury orchards open at 8am so I hopped in my car bright and early, with the kid, and headed across the river.
Traffic was light and we made very good time. The farm stand at Belltown Orchards wasn’t open yet but they were still picking blueberries. We decided some fresh blueberries would be good too so we stopped to pick some.
A quick tractor ride into the orchard and we were happily picking from the bushes. About five minutes passed and we heard the tractor coming around again, dropping off the latest batch of berry enthusiasts.
If you aren’t familiar with blueberry picking, the bushes, at least at Belltown, are arranged in fairly dense rows and the bushes are around six to seven feet tall. You can see the people around you in your row, but not those in the other rows. Although you can easily hear conversations in the other rows when people are around you.
So there I am, picking in my row, minding my own business, talking to my kid. A couple of rows away I hear a group of a few new people arrive, presumably from the latest tractor drop. One person has a distinctive voice and I recognize it. It’s a real estate agent from West Hartford. They start talking about work with the people they’re there with. They are complaining loudly about some clients. The person they’re with, who doesn’t appear to be an agent, is laughing and commiserating with them. The agent continues to talk in this vain for about 5 minutes and is saying some not-too-nice things about their clients.
I’m standing there picking my berries and shaking my head. It’s just totally unprofessional. No wonder people hate real estate agents. Honestly, as agents, and really any profession, we all have some clients that are difficult but it’s important not to talk about our relationships and transactions with others. It’s our job to keep our mouths shut. Clearly this agent had no clue I, and many others picking in the area, were listening, and she didn’t seem to care. She just wanted to tell a good story and entertain her friends.
At this point my daughter is starting to move down our row, she doesn’t stay still for long. I’d say she leads us about 100 feet away, we’ve moved to a new area around new people. No more agent blabbering. Near us a small child that can squirm between the bushes pops out of the row. Then another small child appears. They look at me and say “Amy!”
Do you know who these kids are? The children of one of my clients. Their mom is on the other side of the row. We peer through the bushes and say “Hi! What are you doing here?” Apparently we both had the bright idea to pick blueberries this fine morning. We chat a little bit and continue picking. We finish up around the same time and I see them again at the farm stand.
On my drive home I think about my morning interactions. How ironic is it that I just listened to an agent complaining about a client in a public place and then I run into one of my clients? Small world, isn’t it? What would have happened if I were the agent bad mouthing clients and my client overheard me? How would that make me look?
Professionalism please, people!
hi Amy,
Finally, we’ve made it into your blog.
Deepthroat