The Serial Denialist
"It's not cramped, it's cosy"
This is the estate agent who clearly has ingested magic mushrooms before your viewing, because you are clearly not looking at the same thing.
What he describes as rustic is a wooden death-trap, that luxury patio is a scrap of concrete smeared with fox poo. And let's not forget the heart-sinking moment when they describe a kitchen/bathroom/bedroom as being 'cosy'.
As you're ushered into a room that you last would have found spacious aged eight, they proceed to point out with mad bird eyes all the wonderful things you could do with the space.
When you swing a cat to prove the lack of space, resulting in said cat's death due to collision with the ridiculously-close wall, The Serial Denialist would proceed to deny the cat ever existed.
"What's that dead object on the floor then?" you'd demand to know. "That, madam," they'd reply like Carson the butler, "is a vintage rug."
The Pathological Liar
"I've got 100 people begging for this house"
I have yet to meet an estate agent who at some point hasn't told me a massive porky pie with a straight face. This person employs the technique of successful liars, whereby you take a nugget of truth and embellish around it. In some cases, the nugget is the size of the God Particle.
This will include: not sending you any details about the property beforehand because they aren't available, yet turning up to your viewing with what clearly looks like a detailed sheet about the house.
This is because they know you're about to view a shit heap, and if you saw aforementioned shit heap online, you wouldn't have agreed to the viewing.
Others include: not telling you about the crazy neighbour who stuffs binbags in his window; the fact that the freehold lease has about two years left; that the 'furniture' the landlord will furnish the flat in will be foraged from the streets; that the property is only available in three months when you need it now; the extortionate fees to renew your lease.
Extortionate Fee Concealer
"Thanks for signing. Did I forget to mention the £1million deposit?"
Which brings me to the next point. This person may seem like a completely normal human being to you. You'll be scratching your head, trying to figure out how they are going to shaft you but you won't be able to see beyond the glossy pine floors, the lack of rodents and the seemingly normal neighbours.
Then, when you've signed your agreement, you find out that rather than six weeks, you have eight weeks rent to pay for your deposit. Or, if you're renewing your lease, that this costs £50 (for what? You're the one signing the document) or that your rent is being hiked because a) they know you can't be bothered to move and b) they just can.
The Time Waster Who Doesn't Listen
"Now this place is a tiny bit over your budget..."
Like a crap boyfriend, this estate agent just Does Not Listen. You have told them a dozen times that you can't afford any more than £X amount. Yet there they are, taking you around houses so grand that afterwards, you cry into your sleeve about being an abject failure who can't earn enough money to live in a four-bedroom house in Highgate.
This also includes the ones previously mentioned who take you to properties that aren't actually available when you need them. You even had a chat about it when they were driving you around in their claustrophobic Mini Cooper, and joked that you'd have to move in with your parents if you don't find something soon. Then they show you somewhere that isn't available until 2014. Time to call Mum.
The Flash Wanker
*Looks permanently bored*
Your Mum (when you just spoke to her now begging to move in) told you not to judge people on appearances, but this is impossible with The Flash Wanker.
Characteristics include: driving a very expensive car as they show you properties so grotty you're considering sleeping in the office; pin-stripe suit, fat tie, ridiculously pointed and shiny shoes; and gelled hair.
However, a word in defence of this person: at least you know what you're getting. You're under no illusion that this person will fleece you silly and that when the time comes to vacate, you'll be lucky if you see even £3.50 of your deposit back.Suggest a correction