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A Bender Binder

A potential client called me on a Monday morning, saying he thought he’d sold his house on Saturday. I picked up on his phraseology, and wondered why he wasn’t certain. Was he cautious because of the process still to unfold, or unsure about the terms he’d agreed to accept?

“Well, that’s just it,” he said. “I don’t really remember the terms… or the buyer’s name. I’m giving you a head’s up in case someone calls you about the deal, though I really don’t remember if I gave out your number.”

What? Did he suffer some brain injury or was he on some kind of medicine? I expressed how baffled I was, only to receive an answer I wished my client had kept to himself.

“OK, so Saturday night I went to a wedding,” he shared. “I admit that I got wasted. I apparently agreed to sell my house to someone because I found a slip of paper in the pocket of my rental tux that says $500 deposit on [his address], plus five $100 bills.”

He said there were no names, no terms, no signatures, so it was likely that his promise — whatever it might be— was unenforceable. 

He said he’d call me back if he heard anything, and I promised to do the same. Two years later, when he actually did sell his house, I wondered when he had heard from the person who gave him the $500 deposit, and if he’d returned the money. “Nope; never heard a word,” he said with a shrug.

Can you imagine?

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