I don’t know if this means I failed my leg reg final this morning, or if it’s like a super version of the good luck you get when a bird shits on you. Here’s to hoping it’s the latter…
On to torts!
In New York City real estate, closings can literally take on the trappings of a blood sport.
John Wagner, a partner with his brother, Steven, of Wagner Davis, likes to tell the story of a closing at which he represented the seller. He can’t remember the location of the building or the sale price. He does, however, remember what happened when all the parties were gathered around a conference table in an office on West 57th Street.
“The buyer walked in, pulled a revolver out of a holster he was wearing, and placed it carefully on the table,” Mr. Wagner said. “Everyone’s stunned — they just stare at it. No one says a word. Then the man asked, ‘Does anyone want to negotiate any of my terms?’
Needless to say, the closing proceeded without a peep from anyone.
“I hadn’t been aware of any particular acrimony,” he said. “But that’s not to say that it didn’t exist.”
My friends and I are like:
I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen a more accurate one of these.
(via illegalities)
Hilarious, but wouldn’t this make the problem worse? I know I would probably fall back to sleep completely. Or just set like 7 alarms that are 9 minutes apart.
