I Am the Ring Doorbell, and I’m Having a Full-Blown Panic Attack
A listing’s first day on the market as told by a neurotic porch camera
Image Provided By Author
Hi. I’m the Ring doorbell from 529 Scenic Pass.
Today, the house went on the market.
By 9 AM, I was overstimulated.
By 2 PM, I had sent a dozen alerts, deleted three drafted push notifications, and googled “smart devices on the blink.”
Below is my timestamped descent into real estate madness.
I tried to stay professional.
I failed.
7:43 AM — The Sign Arrives
A man in Crocs shows up with a sledgehammer and the confidence of someone who’s definitely cracked a sprinkler line before. He hammers a post into the yard, leaves three half-hearted stomp marks in the dirt around the sign, and forgets his empty Sonic cup on the porch.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“There is a man wielding a hammer in the yard. Lawn compromised.”
8:02 AM — Listing Agent Brings Balloons
The listing agent shows up with balloons, a sign, and the emotional energy of a woman who’s yelled at a printer this morning. One balloon gets tangled in the mailbox, and the others wrap themselves around her face. She’s muttering. I consider alerting the authorities.
😬 HELD OFF ON NOTIFICATION
“Decided to give her five more minutes to untangle herself.”
8:47 AM — Karen from Next Door
The neighbor from next door drifts over in slippers with a coffee mug that says “But First, Gossip.” She touches the door wreath like it owes her money, takes a flyer, and mutters “not worth what they’re asking” before vanishing into her boxwoods.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Local menace detected.”
9:15 AM — Photographer On the Scene
Photographer appears…again. He was just here last Tuesday for three full hours. He immediately crouches into a bush. At one point, he licks his finger and checks the wind. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing, but he’s doing it. He drops a lens cap near a shrub. I log the incident.
😬 HELD OFF ON NOTIFICATION
“Do not bother the homeowners with photography emergencies… yet.”
10:02 AM — Cul-de-sac Congestion Begins
A conga line of crossover SUVs idles up the block. One Hyundai parks sideways on the lawn. I gasp in binary.
Outside the house: lines are forming.
Inside the house: one woman gives a man her life story while waiting to tour the powder room.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Your grass is under attack. Send authorities.”
11:23 AM — Candy Heist
A child — small, sticky, and steely-eyed — snags chocolate from the candy dish. No parental interference.
He locks eyes with me and mouths “your move.”
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Possible break-in. Suspect is under 3 feet tall and extremely smug.”
11:51 AM — Porch Line Drama
Overlapping showings cause a backup on the porch steps. Someone compares it to waiting for a bathroom stall at a Taylor Swift Concert. Someone else sighs loudly.
😬 HELD OFF ON NOTIFICATION
“I will NOT be the doorbell that cries crowd control.”
12:13 PM — Buyers Strategizing…On Me
Two potential buyers are whispering about their offer IN FRONT OF ME.
“Should we waive inspection?”
“Let’s offer $10K over.”
The pantry door is literally falling off inside. I twitch.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“I am morally obligated to tell my owners. Send hammer and nails.”
12:34 PM — Real Estate Influencers Appear
Three freshly licensed agents show up in matching blazers and with all that “I just passed my exam and I’m ready for a close-up” energy.
They take a group selfie with the yard sign — flash on, filters ready — then launch into a full social media tour like it’s their personal HGTV pilot. “Hey fam! Just touring this adorable new listing. Perfect for entertaining!” Before leaving, they each grab two oatmeal cookies and drop a flyer in their tote bag, like they might follow up.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Influencers detected. Branding hard. Cookies in critical condition.”
1:47 PM — Candy Theft, Round Two
A different child pockets an entire handful of Hershey Kisses.
Inside: someone mutters, “Raisins in cookies? Seriously?”
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Chocolate theft happening in real time.”
2:20 PM — Romantic Declaration
A woman stands at the threshold, stares up at the transom windows, clutches her heart, and says: “This house is THE ONE.” Then she winks directly at me. I don’t know whether to file a harassment complaint or ship her a closing gift.
😬 HELD OFF ON NOTIFICATION
“Didn’t want to make it weird.”
3:12 PM — Button Mashing
A man presses my button four times in ten seconds. I chimed politely the first time. The fourth time? I think I blacked out.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Your guest is aggressively needy.”
5:02 PM — Door Mat Burglar
A woman — floppy hat, very casual — grabs the doormat, rolls it up like yoga mat, and strolls off.
📲 NOTIFICATION SENT
“Your doormat has been rehomed.”
6:40 PM — Final Showing of the Day
A tired couple shuffles up the walkway looking like they’ve just barely survived three bidding wars and an emotional breakdown in a Lowe’s parking lot. The man looks my way and says, “Do you think someone is watching us?”
Sir. I have 160-degree motion detection, two-way audio, night vision, and six hours of raw emotional chaos stored in the cloud. I am always watching.
They step inside. She whispers, “I like it.” He shrugs like he’s been told “we’re not doing a fixer-upper” seventeen times. Inside: one lone balloon sways in the corner.
😬 HELD OFF ON NOTIFICATION
“I let this one slide. But emotionally? I’ve been blinking blue since sunrise, and no one’s even offered to reboot me.”
Tomorrow? There will be more doorbell presses. More candy theft. More unsolicited design opinions.
And I’ll be here. Watching. Recording.
TO BE CONTINUED…
(Assuming the listing doesn’t go under contract by Friday.)
