If Rima were any better at real estate, Congress would have to regulate her.
Rima is what happens when you trap lightning in a bottle, feed it to an alligator, and then send that alligator to train for 1,000 lifetimes in the Forbidden Temple of Real Estate Wushu. It returns with glowing eyes, a Realtor license, and the ability to comp a property with the silent intensity of a demon’s whisper.
I came to Baton Rouge first for work, clueless about why every street has at least three names and why every third street is named after a shrub. I spent a year here solo, learning only that humidity is sentient and traffic circles are a form of psychological warfare. Once we were ready to bring my wife and our majestic herd of snow-beasts, we needed a house big enough, young enough, and yard-y enough to keep four Great Pyrenees from staging a fluffy uprising.
Enter Rima -She burst into our lives like a confetti cannon packed with hospitality, spreadsheets, and pure determination. She took us under her wing like two lost ducklings and four enormous polar bears in dog costumes. Her own two small dogs greeted us with an aura of ‘We can bench-press your giant dog army using only hutzpah.’
Rima is exuberant, hardworking, knowledgeable, resourceful, tenacious, unstoppable, and likely immortal.
She works with such intensity I’m convinced she’s powered by a small nuclear reactor and maybe one of those glowing crystals from Indiana Jones. She schedules showings with such precision that NASA could use her to land rockets. I once watched her juggle three astronauts, a demogorgon, and a pancake gun (don’t ask). I’m not saying she can bend time, but the clock in my car definitely ran backward once.
She understood me instantly because her husband is an engineer, which means she’s survived years of spontaneous math, sudden diagramming, and the occasional 4 AM ‘I just had a thought about roof pitch’ monologue. She speaks fluent Engineer, including sub-dialects like ‘Data-Driven Panic,’ ‘Why Is This Measurement Off By One Millimeter,’ and ‘Yes, I Made a Spreadsheet for That.’ She also understood my wife, who deserves hazard pay for being married to an engineer. It felt like Rima completed a full PhD in Us before we even shook hands.
We asked for a home under 25 years old with a yard large enough for four living snowdrifts to reenact The Lion King, Braveheart, The Sound of Music, Gladiator, and the running of the bulls (but fluffier). Rima did not flinch. She came back with a spreadsheet color-coded by emotional vibe.
She toured us around Baton Rouge like she was unveiling a theme park she personally built the night before. When obstacles appeared, she bulldozed them with the fury of someone trying to return a defective item to Walmart at 8:59 PM.
She is the Realtor equivalent of a supernova wearing a blazer, and we are living in the lucky age where she walks among us. If the Mississippi River ever changes course, it will be because Rima politely asked it to… and she’ll probably fix the jet stream if it helps the appraisal… just sayin’.
If you need a home in Baton Rouge, stop reading reviews and count yourself lucky to be at the end of your search.
— Stephen Duncan
