Me: “The deal is dead.”
The Boss: “Why?”
Me: “They zoned it as agriculture. We can’t lend against it.”
Him: “Agro? Why?”
Me: “Appraiser said there’s like 100 goats on the property. And by definition, that makes it a farm. Apparently they’re all his pets and he’s flipping out. He said he’s got names for each of them.”
Him: “Oh, Jesus. So not only has our battleship been sunk by livestock, but we’ve got the crazy captain at the wheel arguing that every man in America has a gaggle of ornery goats milling about in their yard? Shit.”