He probably wasn’t. He was probably an estate agent, but the shame of telling people that was too much. They might well have said that he was a traffic warden. The tax man, even. Does anyone choose to go into a profession where they'll be scorned and shunned? Of course not. But it wasn’t always like this. Not in the early days. Cutting my teeth as a young estate agent around the hills and valleys of Huddersfield and Holmfirth, I grew to know the characters and the legends belonging to the villages in which I’d find my clients their happy forever homes. There was a palpable sense of belonging to a community.And me, as the local estate agent, added to that. In those days, we helped people. We welcomed people into our office and - in return - we were welcomed into their home. It was close knit. It was personal. It made a difference to both buyer and vendor. And then, nationally, the industry began to change. Slowly, at first.Almost unnoticeable.A steady creep that saw estate agents became more and more disconnected from the communities they served.The cars changed. The suits changed. Even the offices changed. The more we looked like fast food joints - all primary colours and fluorescent tubes - the more we treated our clients like fast food customers. In and out. A quick turnover. Quantity over quality. Volume, not relationships. My Daddy was a Bankrobber sang The Clash