I could have AI write this, but then it would have no soul.

I could have AI write this, but then it would have no soul. Besides, I lived this. I survived it. I endured it. So I get to tell the story.

That’s right, folks, for better or worse, these are my words and images. And for the newly-initiated, the images attached are not connected with the exact particular stories. They are my listing photographs though.

One of the lessons that I learned early on is that there are almost infinite levels of “clean”. Just about all sellers will tell you that their house is clean. Or that they have been cleaning for weeks in preparation of the shoot (happens more often than you think).

I have my own expectations upon arriving to every shoot. Think “Architectural Digest”. I want my images to look like that. I’m talking gorgeous and perfect. Portfolio quality work. That’s what I expect from myself. And that’s what I expect that agents and sellers expect from me. Lots of expectations. No pressure, really.

Then reality kicks in. Because I’m literally dependent on the condition of said house that I’m about to photograph.

Remember a couple of paragraphs ago about “different levels of clean”? Well they are all clean. Really??? Hell no! At least not in the photographic sense. But the sellers think they are all clean.

I’ve rolled up on ‘living hell’ more times than I can count. You can see it from a block away. “Please don’t be that one” when you know it’s ALWAYS “that one”. Even though I just repeated it several times,  and even said “Please”, it’s THAT ONE!

Cars in the driveway? Sure. How about a broken down motorhome? Boat? All out front? Yes let’s add a huge helping of those. I park and now I can see it all.

Those tires are flat. Rust everywhere. Dirt, grime, sludge. None of this stuff is moving anytime soon. That boat trailer has grown roots. We’ll need a professional to remove all that. Oh, and let’s add a dusting of random kids / pet toys scattered about? Sure, make it a double.

And that’s just the front yard. I can only imagine the interiors. Unfortunately, I can smell them as the seller opens the front door.

I’m hit by a “wall of dog” smell with the immediate intensity of a baseball bat to the face. It’s so powerful that my sense of smell has overwhelmed the cacophony of dogs relentlessly barking. I don’t even hear them at first.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming today, but I’ve been cleaning for 3 weeks”. Double shit!!!! Didn’t know I was coming today? That’s always a good sign.

I really need to add that line item of “Therapy” to my invoices cause this is going to be one for the books.

The house was a complete disaster! 3 weeks of cleaning had taken out layers of mess only to reveal even more layers of mess!!! It was horrible!

That along with the mayhem of something like 6 dogs (I lost count). But she offered to cage them so I could photograph. Though she didn’t understand when I told her that dogs in cages don’t photograph well for listings. Pets in listing pictures don’t help to sell!

Oh, in addition to a supremely-messy ‘custom’ interior design (a feature??) it had a nice fenced-in backyard (complete with another larger grounded boat, golf cart and loads of decaying toys), and a pool. Of all the weirdness, the pool was clean and fantastic. For a moment, I thought I had wandered to the neighbor’s house.

What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. And the empathy I had for the listing agent. I mean, I was out in 2 hours. Back home and showered with a drink in hand to numb my trauma shortly thereafter.

But the agent? The agent had to deal with this for some time. Had to market and show it. Well, the home actually sold! Though I would have paid $100,000 to blow the place up - once all the living creatures inside were removed of course.

You would think that this was the absolute worst house that I photographed. And maybe for a few months it was. But I’ve had many “hold my beer” moments since.

What doesn’t kill me!