SELLING SEATTLE
Pilot Episode
Jay Williams
13126 E. Guthrie Drive
Spokane Valley, WA 99216
509-924-9217
INT. MASERATI SEDAN – (MOVING) – DAY
BOB MENHAM,(20’s) sits, white-knuckled as an immaculate and expensively dressed MICHAEL KENNEY (40’s) muscles his car through heavy traffic–while SHAVING with an electric razor.
…suffered from a cerebral malaise and went mad, killing three chickens and a duck before he could be restrained. The lesson to us, of course, is that it is usually easier to be totally abstinent than it is to be moderately temperate. Saint Augustine.
The man had to be watched like a hawk after that, as you can well imagine.
But we’re the only ones here, Bob.
It’s just that each time I think you’re talking to me when your really talking on your headphone, so–
I don’t want to intrude but is it also possible you’ve suffered a recent concussion?
Good, good. That is good, isn’t it? It’s possible then that you are just a bit nervous.
He turns his attention back to his driving.
You now have my undivided attention. So how long have you considered this change?
Real estate? I’m not sure that I really have. I mean, I’ve never sold anything in my life and I’m not sure I have the confidence to–
MICHAEL
(cups headset microphone)
Bob, please, I’m addressing the gentleman on the phone here.
Bob drops his head, chagrined.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(still to Bob)
I’m grateful you could join me today, but if memory serves it was to have been Wednesday.
Your friends call you Bobbie?
MICHAEL
(Back on the phone)
I’m sorry but I could not be in less agreement.
Cups the mouthpiece again, turns to Bob.
Are you sure they don’t call you Bobbie? Because that really surprises me.
Michael fumbles with the electric razor and it drops on the floorboard. He bends over and retrieves it as…
O.S. Horns BLARE. Bob clutches the dashboard, looks at Michael anxiously.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(hands back on wheel)
I see you’re admiring my watch.
Freddy, Freddy, that’s absurd! I can’t make a living discouraging people from buying. At least that’s not the way we do it here in Seattle. But I’ve got to go– so please give my best to your lovely wife, uh…hmm…
(beat)
Yes, of course, “Janet.”
Bulgari-Bulgari Tourbillion.
Michael displays his gold watch.
The finest timepiece in the world. Costs as much as a couple of Camrys. And I mean new Camrys, loaded!
Please…please…just watch the—
And the suit, Brioni. A “bespoke.” The finest raw silk. Custom made for me by my man in Miami.
Granted, most people won’t know I’m wearing a six thousand dollar suit. Or a seventy thousand dollar watch, but my certain clients will. Pretentious foppery to you or me perhaps, but perhaps not to them.
So your first critical lesson– always temporize yourself to the given situation. Become all things to all people. Saint Paul.
Michael jerks the car violently to avoid a collision. More HORNS blare.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
And because our competition will not always seek to advance our best interests, we must always do those things that our competition would wish us most not to do.
He pats Bob on the leg.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
So I go the extra step and shave three times a day. Think my competition wants me to do that?
(smiles)
I can promise you they don’t!
He takes his hands off the wheel and slaps aftershave on his face.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
I change my attire three times a day too. My competition would also wish I not do that.
O.S. ANOTHER CAR HONKS as Michael takes back the wheel.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
For as Voltaire or someone very much like him once said–
Bob SCREAMS at impending danger–Michael wrenches his car into a hard swerve as more cars SCREECH, more horns BLARE.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
Heavens, that was close wasn’t it?
(smiles reassuringly)
But don’t be troubled–the authorities seem to allow me certain dispensations for my driving habits. They must know how short my time is. Now, where were we?
I don’t know! Voltaire or chickens or temperance or some damn thing but–
No, no, I believe it was abstinence. For great salespeople have only one thing in common–they seldom have sex! That’s my ace in the hole, Bobbie. Tell no one.
He SLAMS on the brakes. Tires SCREECH. Horns BLARE.
BOB
That’s the last straw! Pull over, I’m getting out!
Yes, of course in proper order, but not just yet.
He looks over his shoulder and backs his car up at high speed, with resulting horns BLARING. SCREECHES to the curb.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
We’re early. We’ll just park here out of the way till the appointed time.
Bob grabs a handkerchief and wipes sweat off his face.
BOB
(muttering)
This is a mistake–I should leave.
Punctuality is crucial, but it’s as important to not be early as it is to not be late. Michael glances at his watch.
For it proves to the client how highly we prize his time and ours. We’ll leave here at the exact right moment so we can pull up to the house…
Takes a harder look at his watch.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
…just as the second hand sweeps to the exact minute.
He taps the crystal. Holds it to his ear and listens.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
He SLAMS the car into gear and races back into traffic.
BOB
O.S. Sounds of cars CRASHING behind them.
EXT. TREE LINED STREET – MOMENTS LATER
The Maserati SKIDS to a halt in front of an expensive home. The ANDERSONS–a well dressed couple–wait in the yard.
Michael and Bob get out of the car. SWEAT STAINS Bob’s new suit collar and arm pits.
MICHAEL
It is now my privilege to introduce you to the gentle hearted service of this wonderful profession.
I think I’m going to throw up.
How often I’ve heard the same. It’s always best however to avoid doing it in the presence of the client.
How often I’ve heard the same. It’s always best however to avoid doing it in the presence of the client.
Michael strides up to the Andersons. Bob follows.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
MR. ANDERSON
(correcting)
…I’d like you to meet my associate…Bobbie…uh…hmmm..
Struggling to recall the name.
MR. ANDERSON
Michael still pondering.
BOB
No, don’t help me. It’ll come to me in time.
No, don’t help me. It’ll come to me in time.
He turns back to the Andersons.
MICHAEL
(CONT’D)
What a glorious, effulgent day!
Makes you feel good to be alive,
doesn’t it?
We were waiting five minutes more.
Michael puts his arm around Mr. Anderson’s shoulder.
MICHAEL
That is very satisfying for me to hear.
He guides them to the front door.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
Clonager designed, Flagel built. A rare combination. Shown only to the most discerning buyers.
He unlocks the door.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
And even then only with a careful appointment. They have inside pets very dear to them. They don’t want them unduly upset. He swings the door open and a CAT sprints past them. The watch as the cat disappears down the street.
Well, now that was unfortunate.
He turns back to the doorway, and a RED PARROT flies by.
They turn and watch it disappear into the sky.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
INT. EXPENSIVE HOME FOYER – CONTINUOUS
Michael motions the Andersons in.
MICHAEL
Only the finest materials. Carrera marble, Philippe Stark lighting, Venetian stucco walls. But let’s start with the kitchen and I think Mary will–
–see why I selected this home especially for you.
Spacious with a center island.
Counters and cabinets by Balthaup, double dishwashers by Mille, refrigerator by Sub-Zero, Dornbracht fixtures. Even this water dispenser is specially engineered.
He pulls out the spray attachment and turns on the water…
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
Look what it can accomplish.
…without noticing he’s SPRAYING the front of his trousers.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
He discovers he’s SATURATED.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(smiles)
My, I feel a bit like a fool.
He turns to the island range.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
And this is Thermodore’s newest and the downdraft exhaust their strongest…
He reaches across and turns on the exhaust.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
…preventing any of the cooking odors from even…AAAUUUUGH!
Michael’s TIE is caught in the downdraft exhaust and pulls
his face inches from the counter.
Bob rushes, turns the exhaust knob–to no avail. He grabs
Michael from behind and pulls, but can’t free him.
Michael sweeps his hand across the counter, knocks containers
CRASHING to the floor. Pulls drawers out. Spills contents
across the floor. Finds a knife. He CUTS HIS TIE off three
inches from the knot, freeing himself.
He shakes his head to clear it.
This has been a mistake. We should leave.
Nonsense. How can you make a well informed decision having only looked at two rooms?
Believe me, we’ve seen enough!
The Andersons exit the kitchen.
The Andersons move toward the front door. Michael follows.
At least allow me to show you the powder room. It features a wallpaper specially hand-crafted for this very room by the indigent natives of the brave little country of Botawatta.
He reaches past the Andersons and swings the powder room door open, shepherding them in. Mrs. Anderson SCREAMS.
A SMALL MAN sits on the toilet, newspaper in hand, pants down to his ankles, eyes as big as saucers. The Andersons try to back out but are impeded by Michael standing behind them.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(to the small man)
Pete? What are you doing here?
Mrs. Anderson GIGGLES, and Pete pulls the newspaper over his head.
Pete, I’d like to take this opportunity to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Anderson–please don’t bother standing–and Stan and Susan, this is my seller, Pete Atabella.
Mr. Anderson shoulders his way out of the bathroom past
Michael, pulling his wife after him.
And this is my associate, Bobbie,
uh…hmmm…
Bob weakly waives his hand from the hallway.
Pete, you might choose to lock the door in the future if you’re seeking privacy.
Michael backs out of the room.
Pete, you might choose to lock the door in the future if you’re seeking privacy.
Michael backs out of the room.
PETE ATABELLA
(from under his newspaper)
Michael finds the Andersons and Bob in the kitchen, shellshocked.
Michael finds the Andersons and Bob in the kitchen, shellshocked.
Well, that was somewhat uncomfortable, wasn’t it? But surprisingly not that uncommon. Just yesterday I–
That was the last straw, we’re getting out of here! How do you make a living–your incompetent!
Incontinent? Sir, I’ve never been incontinent!
He motions to his wet pants.
This is water, as you well know.
BOB
(covering his face, he groans to himself)
Please this can’t continue. This has got to stop.
Mr. Anderson shakes his head in disgust. Looks around.
Mr. Anderson shakes his head in disgust. Looks around.
How’d we get back into the kitchen?
Where’s the nearest way out?
Still, if you must run, might I suggest we leave through the back? It will give you the opportunity to see their splendid landscaping.
Michael opens the door and ushers them out. The Andersons exit, but Michael pauses. There is a SIGN at the door…
O.S. Deep GROWL from a giant dog.
Michael reads it–“DON’T OPEN–DANGEROUS DOG.”
O.S. Sounds of a vicious DOG ATTACK…and CURDLING SCREAMS from the Andersons.
For the love of mercy, run! Run for your lives!
O.S. Sounds of a giant DOG CHARGING the door.
Michael rushes to slam the door shut…Dog hits it…Michael puts his shoulder to the door to get it closed.
Mr. Anderson appears in the window–face pressed against the glass–TERROR IN HIS EYES. Then he disappears.
Michael opens the door and calls out…
The pool! The pool! It’s your only chance!
Good! Now you, Mrs. Anderson–run for all you’re worth!
He gives them a thumbs up.
Better stay put. Wait him out!
Goodness, that was a bit unpleasant, wasn’t it? I would have thought she could have gotten better traction without those five inch heels…but still, all’s well that ends well. As they say.
He looks over at Bob…who is quietly WEEPING into his hands.
INT. MASERATI SEDAN – (MOVING) – LATER
Michael drives. Bob sits, spent, trashed. Collar now CURLED up from sweat.
But even with those untoward moments they seemed to have formed a rather illiberal prejudice against the home much too quickly, don’t you think?
And of course the huge temptation is to believe that this showing went poorly. Appearances are often deceiving. Certainly, all things considered, it could have gone worse.
Michael meets Bob’s incredulous look.
Oh, much worse. We are all of us human, Bobbie, so it is not to say mistakes may not have been made. But if you remove the humiliation and personal tragedy parts, it wasn’t that bad.
Bob looks out the window, stunned.
It’s always possible they’ll reconsider. And if not today, maybe tomorrow. Remember, “there’s always tomorrow.” Gloria Estefan..
Or as a favorite philosopher once said, “del rikere go storre du re, mere omtenksom ama du vaere.”
I’m not really sure. I’m not that versed in Swedish.
I’m not going to have this conversation–I’ve gone to a safe place right now.
I understand. Close your eyes, relax.
Michael SLAMS on his brakes. Tires SCREECH. Bob SCREAMS.
I almost missed it, where was my
Michael throws his car into reverse, backs up to the curb,
Let’s go. Time for one more.
Are you insane? I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m walking back.
It will seem like nothing.
This is not the kind of a neighborhood in which you want to set out on a twenty mile stroll. Same for sitting out here alone in a rich man’s car, if you get my drift.
EXT. LOWER CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD – CONTINUOUS
Bob, reluctant, gets out and follows Michael up the walk of
a modest home….as a neighbor’s DOG runs up to the adjoining
three foot chain link fence and barks a greeting.
A sensitive situation here, requiring a delicate touch–
The excited Dog stands and puts its front paws on the top
of the fence.
Michael stops and reaches over, scratches the Dog behind
its ears.
You see, a client needs to sell this rental…
The Dog in his excitement pees…The ARC hits Michael, hosing
him down from chest to socks…as Michael, oblivious,
…and the renters at this point are not likely to be very happy.
Michael discovers he’s saturated, jerks away from the fence,
shakes his finger at the dog.
BAD DOG! BAD DOG! What is wrong with you?!
Michael composes himself, turns from the Dog and walks up
the steps to the house as Bob follows.
Third time a dog’s done this to me. Pretty soon I’m going to think they’re doing it out of meanness.
Michael notices Bob’s disheveled appearance. Adjusts Bob’s
We only have one chance to make a first impression, my friend… You’ll need to study on this a bit more.
Michael, SATURATED and the remaining STUB OF HIS TIE STICKING
STRAIGHT OUT, knocks on the door.
O.S. Heavy footsteps approach from the inside of the house.
I’m warning you. Don’t do anything that–
Fortunately we don’t have to be the bearers of this bad news that the renters must leave. My client has already done that.
The door opens. A GIANT of a man stands, glaring.
I’m Michael KENNEY , here on behalf of your landlord. May we come in?
INT. MODEST HOME – CONTINUOUS
And this is my associate, Bob…
Tries to come up with a last name.
To simply first determine the value of the house. Although there’s more art to that than science, as you can well imagine.
He pats the Giant encouragingly on the shoulder.
But I promise we will make this as least intrusive as possible. Save for the lockbox, yard sign, office tour, open houses and occasional showings, you’ll hardly know we’re even about.
And I should think we’ll have you comfortably on your way in under a month, if I know my market.
I’ll leave my card if you have any questions.
He drops his card on the table.
He drops his card on the table.
He’s selling this house? Out from under me?
Ten years, and not to have the guts to even call…
Please, if we can look at it from his perspective. The various vicissitudes of cash flow, regulations, depreciations, taxations–
I’ll kill him! I’ll wrap my hands around that scrawny neck of his and crush his windpipe till I see the life leak out of that ugly face of his!
And you, sir, should hope that someone with my sensibilities would be on your jury!
He puts his arm around the Giant’s shoulder.
He puts his arm around the Giant’s shoulder.
I suppose we shouldn’t dismiss the possibility that we’re now dealing with a madman. But I think, as gentlemen, we must get past that and get this house sold!
The Giant shrugs off Michael’s arm from around his shoulder.
Maybe I’ll have some say on the value of this dump.
I think that’s best handled by professionals, but thank you for the offer.
He storms out of the room.
I like him. An interesting man, don’t you think? Reminds me of the actor Billy Barty–though much taller of course.
O.S. CRASHING of furniture, things BREAKING.
We’ve got to get out of here!
We’ve got to get out of here!
First make a note. We’ll need to neutralize the colors, dress up the drapes, and maybe new flooring if it doesn’t go right away.
Bob rushes to the door. Struggles to get it open.
Now I wonder where the stairs are.
He looks around the room.
Bob gets the door unstuck and bolts out. Michael follows,
RETRIEVING HIS CARD from the table as he leaves.
EXT. MODEST HOME – CONTINUOUS
Bob tries to hurry Michael down the sidewalk to the car.
Thought you were going to stay till he pulled the house down upon your ears! What could have changed your mind?
O.S. Loud CRASHING sounds from inside the house. Michael
opens his car door, turns to Bob.
INT. MASERATI SEDAN – CONTINUOUS
Michael gets in. Bob follows. Michael turns on the
It’s not even a two story. What was I thinking?
There may be a lesson here somewhere…but probably not. In my experience there seldom is.
He pulls the car away from the curb as Bob looks over his
shoulder toward the house. Bob’s EYES turn WIDE as…
EXT. MODEST HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
A SOFA CRASHES through the living room window, landing on
the lawn.
INT. BLACK ROSE REALTY OFFICE – LATER
Michael enters, talking on his headset, untying the stub of
his tie as he goes. Bob follows.
CINDY the RECEPTIONIST, professional, pretty, hands Michael
a tie as he passes by.
I’m just back for my briefcase.
More happened than I dare to say.
He turns, pauses when he sees the slogan under the Black
Rose Realty sign above her desk.
It reads “ERRARE HUMANUM EST”
BOB (CONT’D)
(turns to Cindy)
I don’t know. It’s Michael’s sign.
MEETING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Bob enters, finds JULIAN (30’s) sitting and looking at a
big sales board mounted to the wall.
Bob stares at him blankly.
BOB
Julian points to the briefcase next to his chair. Bob slumps
into an adjoining chair.
The Andersons. That was your appointment, wasn’t it?
Bob collapses in his chair, stupefied.
BOB
It can’t be so. It must be a different Anderson. And a different Atabella. It would otherwise defy everything rational.
It’s one of his unexplained mysteries. He has the ability to make himself likeable and the properties he shows irresistible. Even after terrible mistakes.
You did well today. Thanks for the help.
He winks.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(Back on the phone)
Reverse psychology? Come on, Pasquel, you give me way too much credit–I wouldn’t even know where to start. But hold again, won’t you?
He hands Bob a piece of paper.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
Will you see that our receptionist Cindy gets this? She’ll know what to do. That poor renter and his landlord–well, it’s just the normal flotsam and jetsam from a busy morning–but restorations and amendments must always be made.
He presses a button on his cell phone as he turns to leave.
MICHAEL (CONT’D)
(back on the phone)
Stan, I’m back…He readily agreed, so congratulations on the home. And please give my love to Mary.
Of course, “Susan.” Oh, and please send me the bill for the dry cleaning. And the medical, too. I insist.
Well, thank you, that is very satisfying to hear. Professional compliments are always appreciated.
How much did he just make?
Sixty, maybe eighty thousand.
You couldn’t pry me out of here with a crowbar.
She puts her hand on his leg. He turns and stares at her.
She meets his stare–and WINKS.