All In A Day's Work

Before I was in real estate as a full-time broker, I often wondered to myself about how cushy the job must be. 'Drive around in a luxurious car all day, show clients beautiful houses, write up some forms and then cash a check,' I thought. 'Thousands upon thousands of dollars in easy money,' I would muse. I think most people view real estate agents as opportunists - ready to make a quick buck at anyone's expense, self-serving, self-agrandizing. The picture of a Joan Crawford-type wearing a smiling growl and a lapel pin comes to mind. There are some of those. And then there are the other 98%.

Yesterday, the scene in our office played out thusly:

A 25-year-career agent spent several hours back and forth on the phone with some supposed buyer who claimed he had met her when his mother had purchased a home from her more than ten years ago. She had no recollection of him but did not want to be impolite. When he started using terms of endearment with her she became wary. When he insisted that she take him only to vacant properties and only alone she became so spooked she asked him to find another agent. She felt bad, though, and spent the day re-working the conversation in her head (and out loud with the rest of us) hoping she hadn't done him or herself a disservice.

A 15-year-career agent spent the day fretting over a property evaluation she has to do for an older client who's selling her home. She was particularly concerned about having to give the woman bad news - essentially the house isn't worth much more than when she bought it and this is to be the lady's retirement money. She'll likely net less than a middle-income salary, and only then if she's able to sell. Winter is coming. The agent spent the day practicing some upbeat way to tell her.

A 10-year-career agent stopped by my desk to chat. Her husband is dying of organ failure and can't get either of the two transplants he needs. He's on disability. She hasn't had any success in selling real estate so they've fallen far behind on their bills. Their gas was cut off this last week so they no longer have hot water for showers or cooking gas. According to the offices she's contacted, they 'make too much' to qualify for assistance.

A 5-year-career agent contacted me at the end of the day to vent a little frustration. She'd been working with a client for several months, trapsing all over tarnation to find the right property for folks who really hadn't narrowed down their requirements. It had been a long and costly shopping experience. Yesterday, she learned the woman had, on a whim, made an offer on another house with another agent. Capriciously discarded like an out-of-style scarf, the agent learned of the situation via an exuberent email from the client hoping the agent was 'happy' for her. She replied that she was and wished her well.

And me? I spent the day waiting for some contact from an old friend's wife. My husband had sold him a condo in a posh suburb more than ten years ago. He kept it even after he moved out to the west coast, renting it in the hopes of improving his equity position and building up extra money for the future. They've contacted us because the future has arrived. They have two little ones and can only afford to rent due to the astronomical cost of purchasing a home. It fell to me to have 'the talk' that so many agents are having with clients. The condo is not worth as much as they'd hoped and the better strategy would be to keep it and wait for the numbers to improve. If they opt to sell, it'll be a question of how much of their investment are they willing to see float away. In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out a strategy whereby they may not need to use our services, so they can save the extra money.

This is a snapshot of a typical day in real estate. Sure enough, there are the smiling faces and the hands shaking when a deal finally closes. There are the first time homebuyers who cry with relief and joy at the closings. There are babies that gurgle and giggle in the waiting room while their parents sign the documents on the house where the baby will grow up. There are beautiful, lovely, heartwarming moments that make it all worth it, no doubt.

But the image of vapid, over-lipsticked, chanel-drenched gargoyles remains poised over the real picture of who we are. It's unfortunate, but true. And I'm not sure how we fix it.

In the meantime, I'm working on marketing an estate sale for a brother and sister who recently lost their mother. Along with updates on showings and sales strategies, we're providing some hugs when needed as we wait with them for the long goodbye to their family home. Later, we're going to mow the lawn for a neighbor who's mower is broken and can't afford a new one. And tonight we'll work on an evaluation for a friend who's probably going to have to short-sell her home in the hopes of avoiding a foreclosure.

All in a day's work.