We have moved an inch, but this is the most that we have moved, so far.
Baby steps… baby steps…
But you have no idea what I endured to bring us to this point. You don’t know — because I haven’t told you yet. Let me weave for you a tale of woe…
Ms. Salas is, without question, a masterful charlatan, a product of an unbroken lineage of snake oil salesmen. Her behavior reveals not just a glaring deficiency in ethical grounding within real estate but an even greater shortfall in basic human decency — one that perhaps stems from deeper flaws in her upbringing.
Forgive me this rant, but I can no longer suppress my articulate indignation while attempting to align with a moral compass that seems permanently lodged in the twilight zone — a reality she remains blissfully unaware of to this day.
I will attempt to craft a transcript that captures the Herculean effort it took to thread a caravan of camels through the eye of a needle, all in the pursuit of ensuring a level of comprehension that should be expected from you, my blissfully unaware readers.
And so, this document must be created, crafted, and curated by none other than the sole witness to this diabolical conversation from hell. But before I embark on this arduous task, I must first take some time — time to celebrate my 59th birthday, which I just marked on December 12. After that, I will dive into this endeavor, an undertaking that will undoubtedly propel me well beyond the realm of senior citizenship.
Chat transcript follows…
