I am reliable John.
Dependable John.
Helpful John.
Predictable John.
Dull, bland, boring, uninspiring John.
Imploding John.

Once again, just at the point when I should be exchanging contracts on my house, the sale has fallen through.  I've lost count now, of how many times this has occurred, but it's many.

There had been months of letters back and forth between the solicitors, many niggly questions, insistence on ever more thorough inspections, all of which now begins to seem like a mere delaying tactic - presumably in order for the buyer to raise the required deposit.  Which he has failed to do.  What's more, in the process, his mortgage offer has expired, and he now seems to be unable to get a new one for anywhere near the asking price.  Quite what's changed in his circumstances that now prevents him from getting a mortgage, nobody seems to have been able to get out of him.

So, back on the market it goes.  Anybody want a recently-renovated three-bedroom semi-detached house in Harold Hill, with a 100 foot long garden and friendly neighbours?

It's funny how it all changes.  As I left the audition last night, with all the hearty, cheery assurances of a call today, still ringing in my ears, I was certain of success.

As today has worn on, the confidence has slowly ebbed away.  This is of course entirely natural and expected.  Now, I wouldn't find it hard to believe that the friendliness was a mask for astonishment or laughter, and that, the moment I'd left, the reaction would have been "Dear God!  What was all that about!"  Improbable, of course, though it's easy to think that everybody was so friendly and grateful to me for having come because they knew they weren't likely to be giving me the part.

Ah, lovely neuroses, where would I be without you?

I'd reached a certain despondency:  I'd been waving my particulars in public forums for a long time, without so much as a hello. 

Then all at once, a double-whammy.  A message out of the blue that led to intimacy and a resultant ego-boost, and the following morning waking up to an email calling me to audition.

Now, of course, I have work to do.  I've no wish to show up on Wednesday as unprepared as I was at my last audition.

So...

A few months ago now, you received a fairly technical question from the other side's solicitors.  You forwarded this on to me without explanation, with the comment "please reply as a matter of urgency".

I rang you, and asked for an explanation of the question, as I didn't understand it, being largely in legalese.  You advised me to answer the question in a particular way, which I did, in a letter back to you, which (I assume) you then forwarded on...

A couple of weeks ago, you sent me a copy of a letter from the other side's solicitors, asking the exact same question, and asking for a "specific answer".  Again, you provided no explanation, but asked me to "reply as a matter of urgency".  I rang you again, and asked what it was all about.  You told me you didn't know.  Eventually, you found out, and told me you would answer the question for me, and that I need not write a reply.

Today, I've received from you a copy of a letter from the other side's solicitors, asking the exact same question once again.  Once again, you have given no explanation, but have asked me to "reply as a matter of urgency".

Why am I paying a solicitor?  All you're doing is passing their letters on to me.

You are the trained professional, not I.
You have access to the deeds, which allow you to answer this question.  I do not.
You can ask the buyer's solicitors for clarification.  I am not allowed to approach them.

One appoints a professional to provide expertise and guidance in areas where one has no skill of ones own.  One expects to be helped through difficult matters, supported, advised, by people who have experience in the field.  They should inspire confidence.  At no point has this been the case.  For goodness sake, even when I came in to sign the contract, it was I who had to point out where I was supposed to sign, after you told me to sign in the box marked for the witness....

Were it not for the fact that (please God!) we're very close to actually finishing this thing, I would be sending you this letter today.  However, knowing you to be an incompetent, with all the defensive, arse-covering petulant childishness that is so often the mark of such people, I shall not, for fear of actually slowing things down...

Rest assured that you will be receiving this letter, or one very similar, quite soon after we do complete (assuming we actually do).  I do so hope that your practice is in the habit of sending out customer satisfaction questionaires, too. I should enjoy filling in one of those.