The implication was clear — toe the line or risk being callously crossed off a magical gift registry curated by a surveillance-oriented elderly man in fur trim. For those of us lucky enough to get a used coat for Christmas, there was little motivation to “be good” for the judgy old behavioral auditor in red.

I reflected on this last week as I perched my 20-month-old grandson on the lap of a white-bearded, jolly, round-bodied stranger dressed head-to-toe in red fleece. His tiny lip began to quiver, his eyes widened, and it was obvious he was mentally filing this moment under “formative trauma,” when I swooped in to rescue him. But not before the bearded stranger pressed a piece of candy into his hand — a piece my grandson promptly dropped. Because even at 20 months, he already knows two universal truths: First, you do not sit on a stranger’s lap; and second, you do not take candy from a stranger. Yet somehow, in December, we suspend both rules and call it “tradition.”

However, with the advent of Ring doorbells and outdoor cameras monitoring every square inch of our homes, maybe the old song wasn’t so far off. There is someone always watching to see if we’ve been bad or good. It’s not the Jolly Old Elf himself with his magical reindeer anymore (hopefully it never was), now it’s a motion-activated notification on someone’s phone at 2:14 p.m.

And for those of us in real estate, this adds a whole new layer of festive fun. Gone are the days when we could simply smile politely on the porch and assume no one was watching. Now, every eyebrow raise, every sigh, every whispered “well, that’s … an interesting paint color” is being recorded in crystal-clear HD.

We better be on our best behavior in front of these all-seeing doorbell overlords, because while Santa only checked his list twice, homeowners check their security app every single time they get bored — so roughly every six minutes. We mustn’t forget this. Perhaps a continual mantra before going out to show homes could help. “Smile big, speak kindly, and never, under any circumstances, say something (even under your breath) that you wouldn’t want to come back to bite you.” Trust me … it is likely to do just that.

After several years of preaching, practicing, and performing this very important mantra, I recently had an experience where I may have been caught violating my own sacred Realtor scripture. Yes, after years of preaching the gospel of “smile big, speak kindly, I slipped. Not dramatically — no full-scale meltdown, no whispered “What is that smell?” — but just enough to remind me that karma, like Ring cameras, never sleeps.

There I was, standing on the front porch of a charming rambler, having just shown it to my clients. I was slipping my shoes back on that I had removed for the showing, and my client asked, “Is there any reason that we shouldn’t love this home?”

And in that fleeting moment of complete cognitive lapse, I said — out loud, to absolutely no one — something along the lines of: “Other than the wallpaper actively trying to hurt my feelings, nothing comes to mind.”

Just as I turned around to grab my other shoe, I stared right into the Ring camera, and I realized what I had done. There was no rewind, no going back, no undoing. I felt my soul briefly leaving my body, perhaps checking Zillow, and quietly wondered what my new career could be. It was no surprise when our offer was immediately rejected, almost as if the camera got to cast the deciding vote.

What followed was my Olympic-level apology marathon. I did some backpedaling worthy of a Peloton class, complete verbal gymnastics, and ended with enough humble pie to last through Christmas. I apologized so thoroughly and so repeatedly that even I got tired of hearing me.

But miraculously, after all the groveling, clarifying, soothing, and metaphorical foot-chewing, we managed to reset the goodwill, revisit the offer, and ultimately get my client under contract. Proof that sometimes, with enough apologizing, you can still recover from a moment of doorbell-camera-documented honesty. I’m hoping someday that we can all look back, preferably from the back deck of this beautiful home, and laugh about it.

And that, my fellow home-showing warriors, is why the mantra lives on. Because Santa may see you when you’re sleeping, but homeowners? They see you when you think you’re alone, when you’re adjusting your hair in the reflection of their storm door, and especially when you mutter your unfiltered thoughts into the universe, or worse, out loud to a client.

Next time the only thing I’ll be “caught on camera doing” is taking a delicious cookie offered by the sellers from a plate of elegantly baked treats for potential homebuyers and their agents.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com.