Realtors are as superstitious as anyone, I guess. Every day, we’re faced with decisions that can have long-ranging effects on our business. Many of these choices may not seem so potentially impactful at first, and the truth is that we don’t know which ones are going to be the game-changers until much later on. So this month I’ve been playing it extra safe. I’ve been wearing my lucky socks whenever they’re clean ( and sometimes even when they’re not… ).
I suppose I don’t know if these socks are actually lucky or not. I have gotten a little lucky a couple of times this month, but I’ve been flogged, too. I haven’t been “hit by a car” and I haven’t had “a heart attack.” So that’s good. But in the same time period, I’ve gotten some real estate hairballs caught in my throat, and I’ve choked on a few.
I haven’t been sued. But I also wouldn’t exactly call it the luckiest month ever…
Which brings me back to the socks. Or Talismans in general. How are lucky charms identified, anyway? Do we just all of a sudden realize that whenever we take a particular route to work or wear a certain hat that things simply click for us that day? No! Lucky hats and lucky habits are assigned by us the animates, and the fortune ( or at least the expectation of it ) naturally follows.
Or– you know– it doesn’t. Baseball players are probably the worst. Lucky bats, lucky caps, lucky cups. Impossibly complex regimens of preparation, many involving fried chicken. Sparky Anderson tiptoing over the baseline. Wade Boggs and all his numerology. Moises Alou and his weird urine routine. How these things ever got started to begin with, even the ballplayers probably don’t remember. But numbers are numbers, and luck isn’t anything if it’s not about probabilities. Sparky Anderson won more than 2,000 games, and Boggs had more than 3,000 hits. Moisus Alou washed his hands in a lot of piss.
These Hall of Famers make some pretty compelling arguments. And I can’t say I haven’t experimented ( developing productive superstisions that is– not peeing in my hands ). I’ve tried neckties. I’ve tried incantations ( “… you’re fucking Baretta...” ). I’ve tried different facial hair combinations. And I never have been hit by a car or pantsed by the Department of Licensing, so maybe some of these routines have worked, I don’t know.
What is good luck anyway, except the absence of bad luck?
Good luck is as good luck does. I consider myself to be the luckiest Realtor in the world, and I think it’s got a lot to do with these 666 socks. They definitely make me feel more evil when I’m wearing them ( normally with long pants so no one else knows ), but they’re not merely evil– they’re lucky too. They’re my lucky socks.
I wonder what kind of socks Barack Obama is wearing tonight? We know what kind of underwear Mitt Romney wears, but I wonder about President O. Both of those guys’ drawers have got to be soiled tonight– talk about unlucky…