Susan LaffertyThe realtors come to look at our house. Consider its selling features. Advise on what we must do as we get ready to place it on the market.
We know we need to clear the clutter. But their first comment? “You sure have a lot of books.”
Why, yes. Yes we do.
Then comes the directive.
“Clear out this bookcase and that one and that one. Go ahead and pack those books. Store them out of sight.”
This spring we looked for a car. A reliable used car. It’s been years since our last search. The integrity of the car—and the car salesman—matters. It did then. It does today.
But car-shopping has changed. Now you can shop online and find a fairly detailed history of the vehicle you’re interested in. The number of owners. Where it’s been registered. If it’s been in any accidents or had any recalls.
Are there any dents, scratches, or chipped paint? There’s a “360-degree” visual of the exterior and the interior. Most of the research is accomplished before you ever set eyes on the car or take it out for a drive.
Back in the day, someone could hide a vehicle’s history. Make it look good. Hit all the sales points with conviction. We searched for a trustworthy used car salesman. Wondered if the car was truly as good on the inside as it looked on the outside.
Integrity matters.
Early in my adolescent years, my mother remarked that if Dad said the sky was blue, I would say it was green. This exchange stands out in my mind. Although I most likely protested (duh), inside I knew she was right. Maturity glossed over that stubbornness as I grew, yet pride still hovered close to the surface.
I was 29 when I married Todd and 33 when our first child was born. Suddenly a lot of “set in my ways” was unset and upset. Then we arrived in Pakistan in 1992.