So Monday morning Marty and I took one of our continuing education classes. Somewhere on my bucket list is to teach real estate classes. I have been noodling it for a while, but I am not quite sure I am ready. I am more afraid of what I don't know, than what I know.
Anyway, the class was interesting. Marty, who is an inactive agent, found the class boring, and I assured him it was fascinating. The man who was teaching is a managing broker for a major franchise in town. He has an office of 300 agents and lots of stories. As a freshly minted broker myself, I was listening with both palms propping up my chin, savoring every delicious story. I love contract law. I love legal conversations. And more to the point, some of the tales he told I was relieved hadn't happened to me.
Actually my big take-away from this was an off-handed comment he made. As agents, we really should fire more clients. Maybe if clients didn't think they were doing us agents a favor, they would be a bit more civilized towards us. After all, as a profession, we tend to be professional and polite to them. The same cannot always be said about those we choose to represent.
This got me thinking about Diamond Jim. Technically, I can sell his house right now. Of course, there are some other issues with this and as soon as my sign was popped in the yard, all hell would break loose and that would be the end of it.
But more to the point, why would I want to sell Diamond Jim's house? I can't stress this enough: he is the absolute worst client I ever had. The two times before he has been absolutely awful. The first time, after his home closed he sent me flowers to kind of smooth everything over. The second time I avoided him for months, mainly because I was so furious with his behavior. There is nothing that makes me think this time would be any different.
Originally part of my request was to work with Diamond Jim Junior only because there is only so much crazy I need to tolerate. The more I thought about this, the more I really do feel this teacher was correct. There are times tough love is the best. And the only way I will go forward with this sale is if Junior is at the helm.
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Monday, January 29, 2018
Lottery Winners
With forty minutes to five Monday night, I found out my folks, CJ and Carlie, had been selected to rent the lovely home we saw on Saturday. However, they would have to have the cashier's check for $500 and the lease to the owner by 6 p.m. or the deal was off. Of course, this wasn't useful for me either, as it required me to drive across town, sit down with them at a random McDonald's and get a bunch of signatures for their lease. That wasn't really the problem on my end. The real problem for me was I was wearing comfy leggings and this agoraphobic real estate agent was snug inside her home for the next 24 hours.
The real problem for CJ and Carlie was that they were once again being asked to jump through hoops. And when I met with them at 5:15 Monday night, they gave me an earful. They had done everything that was asked of them. They had given and given with nothing in return. And for what?! There was no negotiation on my end. As far as they were concerned, I had done nothing, NOTHING I tell you, to help them in the teensiest. All I did was relay the demands--reasonable or not--from the owner! What good was I?
At that moment, they concluded (while holding the $500 cashier's check made out to the owner, mind you) that maybe they should call the entire thing off and just find someone more "capable" to help them. As I was getting this tongue lashing, all I could think of was, "Why didn't they tell me this before I changed clothes and drove in rush hour traffic?"
Have I mentioned I hate rentals? Part of the reason I hate rentals is that prospective renters do not believe the Phoenix rental market is crazy right now no matter what I say to educate them prior to them putting an application in on a property. There is a warped perception that I--and real estate agents in general, who all HATE doing rentals--are just in it for the money. When it comes to rentals, nothing could be farther from the truth. Rentals are a true labor of love.
But, actually, what I told them is, what they got by agreeing to the landlord's terms is a place to live. Eighteen other applicants (yes, eighteen other parties) still had to pay the credit check requirement, jump through a bunch of hoops, and they lost out to CJ and Carlie. In the rental lottery, my clients were the winners.
What I also added was (in a nicer, more professional way), and guess what? If CJ and Carlie hadn't agreed to a two year lease, hadn't agreed to no pets, hadn't agreed to change the air filters every month and hadn't agreed to move in this week, and hadn't agreed to pay $25 more next year, they would be homeless and have to do the entire process all over again with a home that probably wasn't as nice and maybe even with higher fees. They weren't getting their $70 credit check money back. Next time they might have to pay $90. And the time after that $100. And even if it wasn't with me representing them, it would be with someone who would tell them the exact same thing. Because CJ and Carlie won the Rental Lottery the first time out and eighteen other people would be happy to take their place.
Fortunately, to drive this point home, Mrs. Landlord also showed up to the party while my clients were signing the lease. She reiterated the same as above: they won! Congratulations! Everyone else lost. However, by then CJ and Carlie had calmed down and Mrs. Landlord missed the ass chewing I was still reeling from.
Instead, Mrs. Landlord got a, "Thank you for choosing us. We are grateful."
Note: After I wrote this, I did receive a text message from them, thanking me for going to bat for them.
The real problem for CJ and Carlie was that they were once again being asked to jump through hoops. And when I met with them at 5:15 Monday night, they gave me an earful. They had done everything that was asked of them. They had given and given with nothing in return. And for what?! There was no negotiation on my end. As far as they were concerned, I had done nothing, NOTHING I tell you, to help them in the teensiest. All I did was relay the demands--reasonable or not--from the owner! What good was I?
At that moment, they concluded (while holding the $500 cashier's check made out to the owner, mind you) that maybe they should call the entire thing off and just find someone more "capable" to help them. As I was getting this tongue lashing, all I could think of was, "Why didn't they tell me this before I changed clothes and drove in rush hour traffic?"
Have I mentioned I hate rentals? Part of the reason I hate rentals is that prospective renters do not believe the Phoenix rental market is crazy right now no matter what I say to educate them prior to them putting an application in on a property. There is a warped perception that I--and real estate agents in general, who all HATE doing rentals--are just in it for the money. When it comes to rentals, nothing could be farther from the truth. Rentals are a true labor of love.
But, actually, what I told them is, what they got by agreeing to the landlord's terms is a place to live. Eighteen other applicants (yes, eighteen other parties) still had to pay the credit check requirement, jump through a bunch of hoops, and they lost out to CJ and Carlie. In the rental lottery, my clients were the winners.
What I also added was (in a nicer, more professional way), and guess what? If CJ and Carlie hadn't agreed to a two year lease, hadn't agreed to no pets, hadn't agreed to change the air filters every month and hadn't agreed to move in this week, and hadn't agreed to pay $25 more next year, they would be homeless and have to do the entire process all over again with a home that probably wasn't as nice and maybe even with higher fees. They weren't getting their $70 credit check money back. Next time they might have to pay $90. And the time after that $100. And even if it wasn't with me representing them, it would be with someone who would tell them the exact same thing. Because CJ and Carlie won the Rental Lottery the first time out and eighteen other people would be happy to take their place.
Fortunately, to drive this point home, Mrs. Landlord also showed up to the party while my clients were signing the lease. She reiterated the same as above: they won! Congratulations! Everyone else lost. However, by then CJ and Carlie had calmed down and Mrs. Landlord missed the ass chewing I was still reeling from.
Instead, Mrs. Landlord got a, "Thank you for choosing us. We are grateful."
Note: After I wrote this, I did receive a text message from them, thanking me for going to bat for them.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
JC, The Master Negotiator
JC and Carlie came to my attention because of another property management company that throws rental business my way once in a while. Generally, all of the folks they give me are reasonable types without felonies. Once in a while, not so much, but that is pretty much the make-up of renters as a whole. Anyway, JC and Carlie called me some time in December. They were moving here at the end of January and wanted to find a place, with me doing the legwork and them looking at pretty house pictures on line.
As you can imagine, I told them how it would go. They would actually need to view the homes themselves because I don't do "legwork." My instructions were to get here and then we would go look. That actually worked out well because JC's mother lives in a retirement community and she has plenty of room. Plus, they had ALREADY rented a place for two weeks in Scottsdale for mid-February.
Over the course of the past six weeks, I have continually tried to educate them on the rental market. It is hot. There are multiple applications on any property they wish to view. Be prepared to be the best and there is no room to negotiate. There is no "nit-picking" because the three other applicants have already failed a time or two and are willing to live with what you aren't. And here was the major item: if you find a place, an owner is not going to hold it for you for four weeks. So, if they want to move in March 1st, don't bother looking until mid-February.
Saturday morning, I was holding an open house with Jane (more on the open house in another blog). In between my knitting project and sipping ice tea, JC and Carlie sent me a text message. They wanted to see a rental property RIGHT NOW! That was well and good and all, but I was a bit busy. I almost told them we could wait a couple of days, as--and I can't stress this enough--a landlord wasn't going to hold a home for four weeks for them. But right before I could respond, Divine Providence jumped to my rescue. Mrs. Worrier (more on her in another blog too) had also sent me a text. She was on her way to Phoenix right then and needed me to stop what I was doing and rush over and show her six houses--none of which I had sent to her or knew if they were available. I was pleased to write her back, "Sorry, I am working with a client today. I am unavailable."
I will fast forward a bit. JC and Carlie are a super-delightful couple. Probably around sixty-ish, I imagine Polly will be just like Carlie at the same age. Both are artsty, girly-girls with a hippy bent. JC has a bit of a Chicago mob boss-vibe going for him. I liked them instantly. And even better yet, they liked the house we looked at!
Through the course of the showing, the owner, who wanted to meet them, showed up letting us know she already had three applications on the house. She liked JC and Carlie. Of all the applicants they seemed like the most stable, able to pay, long-term tenants she was going to find. However, Mrs. Landlord was not holding this home for them for the next 30+ days.
If they wanted it, she wanted to know, "What kind of agreement could we reach?"
Agreement indeed.
And then, with the position of power, Mrs. Landlord abruptly changed the subject and went around the home, showing Carlie all of the little ins and outs that she thought Carlie needed to see, leaving JC to ponder his options.
He took me aside, "What do I do? I have a place until March 1," he stated.
"If you back out of your two week rental, and loose half of the money (about $400), will it matter a year from now?"
"No." he said.
"If you don't back out of the rental and lose this place, will Carlie remember it a year from now?"
He didn't reply to me, but instead went directly over to Mrs. Landlord and agreed to take it on February 1.
Note: Now to be fair, Mrs. Landlord hasn't approved them yet. She needs to run all of the necessary background checks and verify what he is saying is true. However, once JC said he would move up the move-in date, she began talking as if everything was a foregone conclusion. "Here is your mailbox key." "I will have to get you a remote for the gate." (gated community.). "The HOA will come by on Tuesdays to trim your front bushes." And my favorite, "Would it be ok, if I had a plumber call you on Thursday to replace the hot water heater?" Hopefully everything will turn out great. And the best part, I was working with reasonable renters today and I will get paid.
As you can imagine, I told them how it would go. They would actually need to view the homes themselves because I don't do "legwork." My instructions were to get here and then we would go look. That actually worked out well because JC's mother lives in a retirement community and she has plenty of room. Plus, they had ALREADY rented a place for two weeks in Scottsdale for mid-February.
Over the course of the past six weeks, I have continually tried to educate them on the rental market. It is hot. There are multiple applications on any property they wish to view. Be prepared to be the best and there is no room to negotiate. There is no "nit-picking" because the three other applicants have already failed a time or two and are willing to live with what you aren't. And here was the major item: if you find a place, an owner is not going to hold it for you for four weeks. So, if they want to move in March 1st, don't bother looking until mid-February.
Saturday morning, I was holding an open house with Jane (more on the open house in another blog). In between my knitting project and sipping ice tea, JC and Carlie sent me a text message. They wanted to see a rental property RIGHT NOW! That was well and good and all, but I was a bit busy. I almost told them we could wait a couple of days, as--and I can't stress this enough--a landlord wasn't going to hold a home for four weeks for them. But right before I could respond, Divine Providence jumped to my rescue. Mrs. Worrier (more on her in another blog too) had also sent me a text. She was on her way to Phoenix right then and needed me to stop what I was doing and rush over and show her six houses--none of which I had sent to her or knew if they were available. I was pleased to write her back, "Sorry, I am working with a client today. I am unavailable."
I will fast forward a bit. JC and Carlie are a super-delightful couple. Probably around sixty-ish, I imagine Polly will be just like Carlie at the same age. Both are artsty, girly-girls with a hippy bent. JC has a bit of a Chicago mob boss-vibe going for him. I liked them instantly. And even better yet, they liked the house we looked at!
Through the course of the showing, the owner, who wanted to meet them, showed up letting us know she already had three applications on the house. She liked JC and Carlie. Of all the applicants they seemed like the most stable, able to pay, long-term tenants she was going to find. However, Mrs. Landlord was not holding this home for them for the next 30+ days.
If they wanted it, she wanted to know, "What kind of agreement could we reach?"
Agreement indeed.
And then, with the position of power, Mrs. Landlord abruptly changed the subject and went around the home, showing Carlie all of the little ins and outs that she thought Carlie needed to see, leaving JC to ponder his options.
He took me aside, "What do I do? I have a place until March 1," he stated.
"If you back out of your two week rental, and loose half of the money (about $400), will it matter a year from now?"
"No." he said.
"If you don't back out of the rental and lose this place, will Carlie remember it a year from now?"
He didn't reply to me, but instead went directly over to Mrs. Landlord and agreed to take it on February 1.
Note: Now to be fair, Mrs. Landlord hasn't approved them yet. She needs to run all of the necessary background checks and verify what he is saying is true. However, once JC said he would move up the move-in date, she began talking as if everything was a foregone conclusion. "Here is your mailbox key." "I will have to get you a remote for the gate." (gated community.). "The HOA will come by on Tuesdays to trim your front bushes." And my favorite, "Would it be ok, if I had a plumber call you on Thursday to replace the hot water heater?" Hopefully everything will turn out great. And the best part, I was working with reasonable renters today and I will get paid.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Out of the Mouth of Teens
As a parent, my children constantly challenge me, the way I challenge them. And this past week has been one of the more challenging. They went to a leadership and self development conference a few days ago where they learned a few tricks to make sure I was put in my place. And they have used them. All. Week.
Last weekend, Polly took it upon herself to tell me how something I was doing was bothering her. It was emotional for her. I had no idea. I thought she just wasn't understanding the 57 times a day I was nudging her to take care of this particular task. It turns out, she was just digging in her heels. Dang! I was so clueless. All that said, we sorted it out, with me no longer nudging. Instead, I am to use the phrase, "hot chocolate" when we get into that kind of space again. And I have noticed she is making an effort for me not to need to say, "hot chocolate" (over and over) again.
Additionally, I am struggling with the real estate business. All was going great when I wasn't focusing on trying to find clients, but the past two weeks my direction has changed. I need a client. Or want. Or something. Anyway, I want to figure out a way to make this work. And because my phone hasn't been ringing, self-doubt and tons of other ugly emotions have been creeping in and doing a tap dance in my head.
Last Wednesday, Buckaroo and I were eating tacos and he asked if all was ok.
ME: "No, Just worried about finding clients."
BUCKAROO: "Why?"
ME: "Because that's what you are supposed to do when you open a brokerage."
BUCKAROO: "What's the worst that could happen?"
ME: "I fail."
BUCKAROO: "What does failure look like? Have you failed before?"
ME: "Yes, remember the accidental business?" (as if he could forget)
BUCKAROO: "Did you survive?"
ME: "You are grounded."
BUCKAROO: "What else do you think will happen if you don't get clients?"
ME: "I will disappoint you guys."
BUCKAROO: "We aren't disappointed."
ME: "You won't have a good childhood."
BUCKAROO: "Stop right there, my childhood has been amazing."
ME: "We won't have any money in the bank."
BUCKAROO: "Like right now?"
ME: "You are grounded."
BUCKAROO: "What does success look like?"
ME: "Don't you have a taco to eat?"
Anyway, that was the gist of the conversation. Buckaroo is right. The world won't end. There is a certain amount of pride in going out on my own. El Jefe made suggestions that I couldn't do it without him and his crappy leads. Though I know that isn't the case, I also know I would prefer to have something coming in my pipeline. And today I am just getting in my own way.
Last weekend, Polly took it upon herself to tell me how something I was doing was bothering her. It was emotional for her. I had no idea. I thought she just wasn't understanding the 57 times a day I was nudging her to take care of this particular task. It turns out, she was just digging in her heels. Dang! I was so clueless. All that said, we sorted it out, with me no longer nudging. Instead, I am to use the phrase, "hot chocolate" when we get into that kind of space again. And I have noticed she is making an effort for me not to need to say, "hot chocolate" (over and over) again.
Additionally, I am struggling with the real estate business. All was going great when I wasn't focusing on trying to find clients, but the past two weeks my direction has changed. I need a client. Or want. Or something. Anyway, I want to figure out a way to make this work. And because my phone hasn't been ringing, self-doubt and tons of other ugly emotions have been creeping in and doing a tap dance in my head.
Last Wednesday, Buckaroo and I were eating tacos and he asked if all was ok.
ME: "No, Just worried about finding clients."
BUCKAROO: "Why?"
ME: "Because that's what you are supposed to do when you open a brokerage."
BUCKAROO: "What's the worst that could happen?"
ME: "I fail."
BUCKAROO: "What does failure look like? Have you failed before?"
ME: "Yes, remember the accidental business?" (as if he could forget)
BUCKAROO: "Did you survive?"
ME: "You are grounded."
BUCKAROO: "What else do you think will happen if you don't get clients?"
ME: "I will disappoint you guys."
BUCKAROO: "We aren't disappointed."
ME: "You won't have a good childhood."
BUCKAROO: "Stop right there, my childhood has been amazing."
ME: "We won't have any money in the bank."
BUCKAROO: "Like right now?"
ME: "You are grounded."
BUCKAROO: "What does success look like?"
ME: "Don't you have a taco to eat?"
Anyway, that was the gist of the conversation. Buckaroo is right. The world won't end. There is a certain amount of pride in going out on my own. El Jefe made suggestions that I couldn't do it without him and his crappy leads. Though I know that isn't the case, I also know I would prefer to have something coming in my pipeline. And today I am just getting in my own way.
Friday, January 26, 2018
Update on Diamond Jim
Tuesday Diamond Jim Junior called me. His father, our dear hero of this story, has decided we are all out to get him. We are the crazy ones and we are all trying to ruin his life. Actually, Diamond Jim apparently did not include me in this indictment, but given I am one of the masses who feel he is a danger to himself, I lumped myself into this category.
The truth is, Diamond Jim IS a danger to himself. He refuses to have a doctor diagnose him or get medication that may help him, so there is no legal grounds to help him at this time. But, Diamond Jim has wrecked one car from lack of cognition. He hasn't paid the tickets from that wreck, so there is probably a warrant out for his arrest. Half of the time I see him, he thinks I am his daughter or his landlord--and on one occasion insisted that a worker at his house call me to pay his bill. He is convinced a quarter of the time, 15 year old Buckaroo is Diamond Jim Junior. Jim isn't paying his bills, including but not limited to: his mortgage (Junior got his mortgage caught up last week), water, electricity, and internet. Internet isn't as big a deal, because that means he can't access the IRS site. And he thinks the rest of them (us, lump me in) are bullying him when they (we) say he should never, ever do taxes again.
Diamond Jim gets lost going to the basic of places and forgets who he is meeting. One biggie was a few months ago, old family friends called Junior. These folks hadn't talked to Diamond Jim in years. However, Diamond Jim was 40 miles from home and called them, wanting to know exactly which restaurant they were meeting at. Last week he went to visit a client (actually a past client,) to help him with his taxes. He was sixty miles out of town, going the wrong direction, before he called them and asked for directions. No meeting had been scheduled.
On top of all this, his pride gets in the way. So, in moments of lucidity, he will make up yarns to cover his tracks. It is frustrating, because I can't always tell if he believes his fibs or if he is doing it because he thinks he has duped me. He's a terrible liar. Junior and I have talked about this extensively. He can't decide either.
I was supposed to put his house on the market next week, but I am not going to do so with him there--besides, the place he was supposed to move into next month, Diamond Jim called and cancelled so he has nowhere to go. There is no point on trying to sell his home (I have a legal agreement to do so) under the circumstances because I can't guarantee I could even get in or bring a buyer in. Besides, where would Diamond Jim go now? He just lost his assistive care apartment family members pulled strings to get him into. Most likely if this goes on much longer, the home will go back to the bank because he keeps forgetting to pay his bills.
When Junior called Tuesday, he told me he needed to step back. I can't say I blame him. He and his wife flew out here, sorted all of his stuff, found registered letters from bill collectors, lots of rotten food and tons of other items that don't make the case for him being on his own. He said he needed a couple of days. I told him to take a week. I am going to. There is no way I am calling Diamond Jim under these circumstances. I do have a call into adult services to get some advice but that's all I am doing right now. My heart aches for Jim but it is probably best if we all step back. Hopefully when cooler heads prevail, it won't be too late to help him.
The truth is, Diamond Jim IS a danger to himself. He refuses to have a doctor diagnose him or get medication that may help him, so there is no legal grounds to help him at this time. But, Diamond Jim has wrecked one car from lack of cognition. He hasn't paid the tickets from that wreck, so there is probably a warrant out for his arrest. Half of the time I see him, he thinks I am his daughter or his landlord--and on one occasion insisted that a worker at his house call me to pay his bill. He is convinced a quarter of the time, 15 year old Buckaroo is Diamond Jim Junior. Jim isn't paying his bills, including but not limited to: his mortgage (Junior got his mortgage caught up last week), water, electricity, and internet. Internet isn't as big a deal, because that means he can't access the IRS site. And he thinks the rest of them (us, lump me in) are bullying him when they (we) say he should never, ever do taxes again.
Diamond Jim gets lost going to the basic of places and forgets who he is meeting. One biggie was a few months ago, old family friends called Junior. These folks hadn't talked to Diamond Jim in years. However, Diamond Jim was 40 miles from home and called them, wanting to know exactly which restaurant they were meeting at. Last week he went to visit a client (actually a past client,) to help him with his taxes. He was sixty miles out of town, going the wrong direction, before he called them and asked for directions. No meeting had been scheduled.
On top of all this, his pride gets in the way. So, in moments of lucidity, he will make up yarns to cover his tracks. It is frustrating, because I can't always tell if he believes his fibs or if he is doing it because he thinks he has duped me. He's a terrible liar. Junior and I have talked about this extensively. He can't decide either.
I was supposed to put his house on the market next week, but I am not going to do so with him there--besides, the place he was supposed to move into next month, Diamond Jim called and cancelled so he has nowhere to go. There is no point on trying to sell his home (I have a legal agreement to do so) under the circumstances because I can't guarantee I could even get in or bring a buyer in. Besides, where would Diamond Jim go now? He just lost his assistive care apartment family members pulled strings to get him into. Most likely if this goes on much longer, the home will go back to the bank because he keeps forgetting to pay his bills.
When Junior called Tuesday, he told me he needed to step back. I can't say I blame him. He and his wife flew out here, sorted all of his stuff, found registered letters from bill collectors, lots of rotten food and tons of other items that don't make the case for him being on his own. He said he needed a couple of days. I told him to take a week. I am going to. There is no way I am calling Diamond Jim under these circumstances. I do have a call into adult services to get some advice but that's all I am doing right now. My heart aches for Jim but it is probably best if we all step back. Hopefully when cooler heads prevail, it won't be too late to help him.
Thursday, January 25, 2018
The Unicorn
There are a couple of property management companies in town who give me rental clients. For the most part, these clients aren't felons and don't have dubious backgrounds, which is nice when you are trying to help someone rent a property. I appreciate them thinking of me, generally. Usually, I manage to help them out and in a few cases, I have even sold these folks a house. So, there are times rentals work out.
Today I got a call from a woman who has an 80 year old mother-in-law. Mom lives in an apartment down the street, and this coming June they want to combine households. She told me two statements that were of vital importance. First, she is a Gemini. She wanted to know my birthday and was thrilled I was an Aries. Apparently Aries and Gemini are compatible. I guess.
Second, and this was much more of an issue to me, she "needs" a two bedroom, 2,500 square foot home with a separate casita/guest quarters, in Chandler or Gilbert and it must be under $2000 a month.
Sure, there are homes that meet all of the above, except for her one and only deal breaker: guest quarters. There are homes out there which have guest quarters, but they tend to be high-end. And--and this is very important--THEY TEND TO HAVE OWNERS LIVING IN THEM NOT RENTERS. I mean, I did find one home with guest quarters. However, it is 9 bedrooms and located in Mesa. It was also $4,000 a month. However, this woman was hell-bend on NO Mesa ("It is just too unseemly a place, don't you think?" I didn't. I live in Mesa. I think it is a very well-run city with low crime and lower taxes, but I didn't tell her that.)
In these situations, with such a narrow criteria, I asked her if she would rather buy. After all, she can probably purchase something under those circumstances within her price range. But truly, the whole guest quarters aspect in a rental is making this search a bit difficult. I suggested two master bedrooms--there are floor plans with that as an option. She wasn't sure as a Gemini, she and her mother-in-law (who is also a Gemini) would have enough space.
We left it with me sending her homes and she opting to look on Zillow where "tons" (tons I tell you!) homes with the guest quarters/casitas exist. They are all right next to the unicorn farms.
Today I got a call from a woman who has an 80 year old mother-in-law. Mom lives in an apartment down the street, and this coming June they want to combine households. She told me two statements that were of vital importance. First, she is a Gemini. She wanted to know my birthday and was thrilled I was an Aries. Apparently Aries and Gemini are compatible. I guess.
Second, and this was much more of an issue to me, she "needs" a two bedroom, 2,500 square foot home with a separate casita/guest quarters, in Chandler or Gilbert and it must be under $2000 a month.
Sure, there are homes that meet all of the above, except for her one and only deal breaker: guest quarters. There are homes out there which have guest quarters, but they tend to be high-end. And--and this is very important--THEY TEND TO HAVE OWNERS LIVING IN THEM NOT RENTERS. I mean, I did find one home with guest quarters. However, it is 9 bedrooms and located in Mesa. It was also $4,000 a month. However, this woman was hell-bend on NO Mesa ("It is just too unseemly a place, don't you think?" I didn't. I live in Mesa. I think it is a very well-run city with low crime and lower taxes, but I didn't tell her that.)
In these situations, with such a narrow criteria, I asked her if she would rather buy. After all, she can probably purchase something under those circumstances within her price range. But truly, the whole guest quarters aspect in a rental is making this search a bit difficult. I suggested two master bedrooms--there are floor plans with that as an option. She wasn't sure as a Gemini, she and her mother-in-law (who is also a Gemini) would have enough space.
We left it with me sending her homes and she opting to look on Zillow where "tons" (tons I tell you!) homes with the guest quarters/casitas exist. They are all right next to the unicorn farms.
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Update on Jane
I consider it part of a Grand Design that I met Mrs. Hufflepuff. Jane is now working at her brokerage and thriving. The two of them are very much alike and their personalities work well together. Jane even got a listing!
I still see Jane regularly, just as if we still worked for El Jefe. But now, Jane is in such a better place! She has had more training in the past two weeks than El Jefe and Senora ever gave her in the past 10 months. Mrs. Hufflepuff is teaching Jane how to do all the right things.
I am so happy for Jane. One is never a profit in their own family, and I struggled to help Jane be accountable and grow outside her comfort zone. Mrs. Hufflepuff is doing what I couldn't and El Jefe didn't.
I still see Jane regularly, just as if we still worked for El Jefe. But now, Jane is in such a better place! She has had more training in the past two weeks than El Jefe and Senora ever gave her in the past 10 months. Mrs. Hufflepuff is teaching Jane how to do all the right things.
I am so happy for Jane. One is never a profit in their own family, and I struggled to help Jane be accountable and grow outside her comfort zone. Mrs. Hufflepuff is doing what I couldn't and El Jefe didn't.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Love Thy Neighbor
The listing I have is a home that was custom built. The owner built is for her ministry helping a segment of society most of us deem undesirable. However, my client did not check the right boxes with the city and county. Besides that, her ministry did not sit well with the neighbors, who (rightfully) escalated the situation to get her to shut it down. My client then moved to a new location, with the blessing of the new city she lives in. However, the neighbors are a bunch of whiny bitches who need to get a life.
First, the neighbors made up a bunch of crummy stories about my client and her ministry. To be fair, I am not a fan of what my client is doing, and the truth alone about her ministry is pretty ugly. But on top of that, because at the time the news was getting a bit bored with the topic, the neighbors added hyperbole and a bunch of ugly lies. No, my clients weren't running a child pornography ring. No, their grandchildren were not being sold as sex slaves. And lots of other bizarrely horrible comments that the local media did not bother to vet before airing.
Second, my client has moved. In fact, she moved more than six months ago. But I still get ugly text messages and hostile phone calls (my sign is in the yard). Seriously Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor. THEY ARE GONE. Get on with your life.
Sunday I had an agent ask to show the home. He did. Then he sent me a bizarre message saying because of what my folks (who do not live there) believed in with their ministry, their client isn't interested. The agent then got very detailed about his opinions of my clients, the folks they help and me, for taking the listing. Ok, that's fine. I have a few opinions too about people who feel they need to provide seriously unkind unsolicited comments. But more to the point, I am curious why he bothered to show it at all if he knew the history. I didn't ask but I have an imagination, coupled with experience. And that put me on edge. It wouldn't be the first time the neighbors took out their frustrations on me or my clients.
What I am concerned about is if this agent was a neighbor. Or, perhaps his client is a neighbor. The agent texted me a few pictures of the news stories from two years ago. So, he (or his client) readily knew what they were seeing. And that begs the question, was Sunday's showing by this agent (or client) a sabotage on the home?
As I didn't have time to go over and make sure quick-crete wasn't poured down the potties, I called my client and asked her to jet over to make sure the home is secure. Who knows, maybe these folks left a window unlocked so they could go back later on? At any case, someone needed to make sure the home was still intact. I also asked my client to call the sheriff's office to check on the property later this week. Perhaps I have an imagination. Or perhaps I have experience. Either way, it is time to get the neighbors to chill out. My folks moved on. I wish the neighbors would too.
First, the neighbors made up a bunch of crummy stories about my client and her ministry. To be fair, I am not a fan of what my client is doing, and the truth alone about her ministry is pretty ugly. But on top of that, because at the time the news was getting a bit bored with the topic, the neighbors added hyperbole and a bunch of ugly lies. No, my clients weren't running a child pornography ring. No, their grandchildren were not being sold as sex slaves. And lots of other bizarrely horrible comments that the local media did not bother to vet before airing.
Second, my client has moved. In fact, she moved more than six months ago. But I still get ugly text messages and hostile phone calls (my sign is in the yard). Seriously Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor. THEY ARE GONE. Get on with your life.
Sunday I had an agent ask to show the home. He did. Then he sent me a bizarre message saying because of what my folks (who do not live there) believed in with their ministry, their client isn't interested. The agent then got very detailed about his opinions of my clients, the folks they help and me, for taking the listing. Ok, that's fine. I have a few opinions too about people who feel they need to provide seriously unkind unsolicited comments. But more to the point, I am curious why he bothered to show it at all if he knew the history. I didn't ask but I have an imagination, coupled with experience. And that put me on edge. It wouldn't be the first time the neighbors took out their frustrations on me or my clients.
What I am concerned about is if this agent was a neighbor. Or, perhaps his client is a neighbor. The agent texted me a few pictures of the news stories from two years ago. So, he (or his client) readily knew what they were seeing. And that begs the question, was Sunday's showing by this agent (or client) a sabotage on the home?
As I didn't have time to go over and make sure quick-crete wasn't poured down the potties, I called my client and asked her to jet over to make sure the home is secure. Who knows, maybe these folks left a window unlocked so they could go back later on? At any case, someone needed to make sure the home was still intact. I also asked my client to call the sheriff's office to check on the property later this week. Perhaps I have an imagination. Or perhaps I have experience. Either way, it is time to get the neighbors to chill out. My folks moved on. I wish the neighbors would too.
Monday, January 22, 2018
Indiginities
I met with Diamond Jim, Diamond Jim Junior and Mrs. Junior Saturday afternoon. You see, Diamond Jim is at a point in his life where he needs to live somewhere else. The place that has been selected is an assisted living center in Mesa. Diamond Jim has been pretty stoic about the entire thing, but I can tell he is upset.
The fact of the matter is, Diamond Jim is fading fast. It pains me to say so. This past week alone, he was certain I am driving his car. Then this same car he told me was at the dealership being worked on. The truth is Diamond Jim totaled his car months ago. Diamond Jim is also not paying his bills any more. (Which was my tattletale to his son this week). I don't think he is eating well. Marty (who tagged along) saw six or seven Snicker's bars sitting next to Diamond Jim's chair. Sadly, he won't go to the doctor, so there is no "official" diagnosis of dementia or other memory issues.
Anyway, Junior was in town this weekend to help convince his father other arrangements must be made. And this involves me. The truth is, Diamond Jim, though I adore him, has been the absolute worst client I ever had. Twice. In fact, the way I got to know Junior, was because the first time I was selling his house, Diamond Jim refused to sign the closing documents. Then he refused to move. I won't even tell you about the second time he was my client, other than to say, I told him he was NEVER moving because I was not going through that again. EVER! And I meant it. I even told Junior this.
But, Diamond Jim is moving. This time Junior has a power of attorney. I would have insisted, except we were able to convince Diamond Jim a power of attorney was a grand idea. Saturday, I brought the necessary real estate documents over for Junior to sign. So, while Marty and Mrs. Junior were busy packing, Junior and I were going through the small rain forest of paperwork (including my new wire fraud advisory).
At this time, the home is not going up for sale just yet. I can't have people going through the place with Diamond Jim living there. For one reason, it is very likely he will forget his home is for sale. Also, he may not want to leave when prospective buyers show up and he may say things that could jeopardize his sale. Actually, I guarantee he won't leave--even if I personally paid for an Uber to drive him around the block. From what I understand, the apartment Diamond Jim is moving into won't be ready for another month. In the meantime, there is a plan in place for him to go visit his daughter on the East Coast until the place is ready.
The worst part of Saturday was to see how visibly upset Diamond Jim was. He knows he is having trouble. He is losing his freedom. He is losing his mental faculties. That must be so frightening. He watched Junior and I go through the paperwork, making decisions for his future. I involved him as much as possible, hoping to preserve Diamond Jim's dignity. Because he still has that. And I want him to keep it as long as possible.
The fact of the matter is, Diamond Jim is fading fast. It pains me to say so. This past week alone, he was certain I am driving his car. Then this same car he told me was at the dealership being worked on. The truth is Diamond Jim totaled his car months ago. Diamond Jim is also not paying his bills any more. (Which was my tattletale to his son this week). I don't think he is eating well. Marty (who tagged along) saw six or seven Snicker's bars sitting next to Diamond Jim's chair. Sadly, he won't go to the doctor, so there is no "official" diagnosis of dementia or other memory issues.
Anyway, Junior was in town this weekend to help convince his father other arrangements must be made. And this involves me. The truth is, Diamond Jim, though I adore him, has been the absolute worst client I ever had. Twice. In fact, the way I got to know Junior, was because the first time I was selling his house, Diamond Jim refused to sign the closing documents. Then he refused to move. I won't even tell you about the second time he was my client, other than to say, I told him he was NEVER moving because I was not going through that again. EVER! And I meant it. I even told Junior this.
But, Diamond Jim is moving. This time Junior has a power of attorney. I would have insisted, except we were able to convince Diamond Jim a power of attorney was a grand idea. Saturday, I brought the necessary real estate documents over for Junior to sign. So, while Marty and Mrs. Junior were busy packing, Junior and I were going through the small rain forest of paperwork (including my new wire fraud advisory).
At this time, the home is not going up for sale just yet. I can't have people going through the place with Diamond Jim living there. For one reason, it is very likely he will forget his home is for sale. Also, he may not want to leave when prospective buyers show up and he may say things that could jeopardize his sale. Actually, I guarantee he won't leave--even if I personally paid for an Uber to drive him around the block. From what I understand, the apartment Diamond Jim is moving into won't be ready for another month. In the meantime, there is a plan in place for him to go visit his daughter on the East Coast until the place is ready.
The worst part of Saturday was to see how visibly upset Diamond Jim was. He knows he is having trouble. He is losing his freedom. He is losing his mental faculties. That must be so frightening. He watched Junior and I go through the paperwork, making decisions for his future. I involved him as much as possible, hoping to preserve Diamond Jim's dignity. Because he still has that. And I want him to keep it as long as possible.
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Franny Goes Phishing on a Flotilla in Florida
So I went to this class on wire fraud. It was taught by the FBI special agent in charge of cyber crimes in Arizona. I wasn't really interested in attending, but Sarah, my marketing rep was pushing hard for me to go. Besides, it was only an hour.
Here are a few take-aways from my hour for all'y'all.
Here are a few take-aways from my hour for all'y'all.
1. The longer the password the better--a six character password can be cracked in 1 hour or less.
2. The Dark Web is a thing. If you want to visit it, you need to sign up for the correct browser. Anything you want, legal or otherwise, is there. Want to hire a hit man? Yep, that too. The FBI guy said it is popular among the criminal and Libertarian-types.
3. Wire fraud is a HUGE deal. FNF Financial, one of the largest title ensurers is getting thousands of attempts each day.
4. Phishers are targeting real estate agents and checking their e-mails to see when homes close. They will then contact their client with an e-mail that looks legit saying something like "New wiring instruction" and add a different bank account.
5. If you get a ransomware, you can google the access key.
5.a. BACK UP YOUR COMPUTER ON A REGULAR BASIS
6. And I doubt this needs to be said, but don't open weird e-mails or suspicious e-mails.
7. Hackers can break into phones and tablets. I did not know this.
And finally, to drive this point home, a story was told by one of Sarah's colleagues. This past Wednesday, a real estate agent, who was the one buying a home, signed all of her loan documents. She then went to the bank to have her funds wired to the title company. This way she would have her new home by Friday.
On the way to the bank, an e-mail came to her saying, "new wiring instructions." The e-mail said it was from her title company, and it even had the same e-signature with a different phone number. Anyway, the e-mail said that she should wire the funds to a different bank account. And, if there were any questions, she could call the title rep (the one who allegedly sent the e-mail). The phone number, by the way, had been changed to a number in Florida.
Seeing as the buyer had just been to the title company, she didn't think twice about this. So, she instructed her bank to wire $750,000 to the new bank account. Yep, she sent THREE QUARTERS OF A MILLION DOLLARS to a phsisher in Florida instead of to pay for the home she was moving into two days later.
Fortunately, the wire transfer was caught in time and the person on the other end was arrested. The buyer will get her money back. Eventually. But maybe not in time to make the seller of this home happy.
Another quick story: a seller waiting for his proceeds got a call from the title company. They had wired the seller's money over. However, this particular title company had gotten a "new wiring instructions" e-mail allegedly from the seller, asking for the money to go to a different bank account. The title company obliged and did not contact the seller to verify.
The seller never saw the money. The title company (a small one in town) is saying, "whoops, sorry about that." And that is apparently all. I am sure there will be some legalities sorted out somewhere. But THAT seller was using the money they were expecting to close on the house they were buying.
So, wire fraud is real. And it is a big business. Please be careful.
Friday, January 19, 2018
Resume Building
Because I am starting a new brokerage, I need marketing collateral. That's a fancy way of saying, I need to print a few things out that say what I do and why everyone should choose me--especially because the ol'e Web site is still not completed.
When I sat down to work on this task, I did whatever one normally does when they have to describe their skills. I stared at a blank computer screen for a while and looked for other meaningful ways to become distracted. Finally, looking for some inspiration, I dusted off my resume. Surely that would give me a few writing prompts!
Or not.
Unfortunately, the last time I updated my resume was 2003.
In 2003:
I lived in a different house.
I had a 2 year old and a baby at home.
I owned one rental. (ONE!!!)
I wrote for a real estate magazine.
Life was simple. Very simple. Dang! I miss my 2003 resume.
However, it is now 15 years later and a lot has happened. And once I realized I hadn't updated my resume, I kind of felt compelled to spend a few minutes doing so.
In the past 15 years I have (not in any order):
Got a real estate license
Moved to my current home
Almost moved to Seattle
Opened an Accidental Business
Ran an Accidental Business
Owned a gazillion rental homes
Got a broker's license
Faced financial ruin (and for that matter, financial success)
And on the personal front, in the past 15 years I have:
Raised my children.
Lost a sister-in-law, mother-in-law and bonus mother.
Gained a sister-in-law, two nephews and a niece.
Developed significant food allergies (from stress from running an Accidental Business)
And so, so, much more.
The personal stuff aside, how do I condense this? I remember when I first needed a resume I was told to be as specific as possible with nauseous prose such as, "experienced with joint ventures," which meant the company I worked for partnered with another company and we did something together. I think it was a trade show. Oh yea, in my 2003 resume, for some reason--probably at the advice of a recruiter--I mention all of the MS office products I am proficient in.
Fast forward fifteen years. I have no idea how to summarize running an accidental business into a paragraph. I have made high-level decisions (that sounds nice) that directly impact the profit and loss statement or some other such blather. Rhetoric aside, from what I can tell, my experience for the past fifteen years really comes down to making choices--think of it as a Choose Your Own Adventure book. If I do this, what will the outcome be? If I do that, how will that look? I challenge you: make that sound interesting on a resume. I double-dog dare you.
Fortunately, at this time, I really don't need a resume. But I did need some way to tell people I am qualified to sell their house. The resume is done (with a few more adjectives and action-oriented words that basically say, "Yea, I did that.") and hopefully I won't need to look at it again for another fifteen years.
When I sat down to work on this task, I did whatever one normally does when they have to describe their skills. I stared at a blank computer screen for a while and looked for other meaningful ways to become distracted. Finally, looking for some inspiration, I dusted off my resume. Surely that would give me a few writing prompts!
Or not.
Unfortunately, the last time I updated my resume was 2003.
In 2003:
I lived in a different house.
I had a 2 year old and a baby at home.
I owned one rental. (ONE!!!)
I wrote for a real estate magazine.
Life was simple. Very simple. Dang! I miss my 2003 resume.
However, it is now 15 years later and a lot has happened. And once I realized I hadn't updated my resume, I kind of felt compelled to spend a few minutes doing so.
In the past 15 years I have (not in any order):
Got a real estate license
Moved to my current home
Almost moved to Seattle
Opened an Accidental Business
Ran an Accidental Business
Owned a gazillion rental homes
Got a broker's license
Faced financial ruin (and for that matter, financial success)
Closed an Accidental Business
And on the personal front, in the past 15 years I have:
Raised my children.
Lost a sister-in-law, mother-in-law and bonus mother.
Gained a sister-in-law, two nephews and a niece.
Developed significant food allergies (from stress from running an Accidental Business)
And so, so, much more.
The personal stuff aside, how do I condense this? I remember when I first needed a resume I was told to be as specific as possible with nauseous prose such as, "experienced with joint ventures," which meant the company I worked for partnered with another company and we did something together. I think it was a trade show. Oh yea, in my 2003 resume, for some reason--probably at the advice of a recruiter--I mention all of the MS office products I am proficient in.
Fast forward fifteen years. I have no idea how to summarize running an accidental business into a paragraph. I have made high-level decisions (that sounds nice) that directly impact the profit and loss statement or some other such blather. Rhetoric aside, from what I can tell, my experience for the past fifteen years really comes down to making choices--think of it as a Choose Your Own Adventure book. If I do this, what will the outcome be? If I do that, how will that look? I challenge you: make that sound interesting on a resume. I double-dog dare you.
Fortunately, at this time, I really don't need a resume. But I did need some way to tell people I am qualified to sell their house. The resume is done (with a few more adjectives and action-oriented words that basically say, "Yea, I did that.") and hopefully I won't need to look at it again for another fifteen years.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Squee!
 |
| This Ain't It |
Anyway, if you are my Insta-buddy, they are posted there. If you aren't, and are mildly curious, hit me up and I will happily brag.
The signs were the, "Yea, this is real" moment for me. I have been giddy ever since.
Sunday, January 14, 2018
A Rant
There is something that truly bugs me about Mrs. Worrier.
There are seven people in her family. She is not independently wealthy, nor has she taken any steps to create financial freedom, much less become independently wealthy. She has told me more than once how both her brother and sister have half a million dollar homes. That's all well and good, but as Mr. Worrier has explained to her (and me), they made different choices. He happens to be ok with that.
My issue with Mrs. Worrier is that she is hell-bent on having the nicest and biggest house money can rent at the expense of her family. And from what I can tell, it is more about looking good in the eyes of others and less about taking care of her family. Essentially, she wants to keep up with the Jones siblings. As much as I detest professional victims, I am even more annoyed by those who feel entitled.
For the past sixteen out of seventeen years, the Worriers lived in a family rental where they were given under-market rent so they could save a little and buy a home. It was three bedrooms, modest, 1,500 square feet. Yea, that may be cramped, but it was a place to live. It was within their means, and frankly, it was a gift. And by the way, even though they were paying next to nothing, they never saved anything for that future dream home.
Last year, the Worriers rented a home and that was a bit of a disaster. When their lease was up, with no foresight, Mrs. Worrier moved her kids into her parent's house. Her husband lives in a hotel. Her parents weren't keen on this and now she and the kids are living in a different city in Central Arizona. Mr. Worrier is still paying $100 a night for a hotel. He works two jobs so his wife doesn't have to (desk job and Uber). Her job is to take care of her babies. A noble profession and vocation.
Taking a snapshot of today, they are homeless. They can find a home to live in. But instead, she is looking for Buckingham Palace and no other place will do. I am offended by this because it doesn't have to be this way. All she has to do is put her family first.
Both Marty and I grew up extremely poor. Marty grew up with the same number of people as the Worriers in an 800 square foot, three bedroom, one bath, single-wide in the middle of the desert. I can't imagine my late mother-in-law lamenting over needing a separate room just to fold clothes in. Needing new and fancy wasn't an issue.
Growing up, there were only five of us. When I was a teenager, because we were homeless, we moved to the slums in Burlington Vermont. Our 100 year old home was smaller than the one Marty lived in. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom My brothers had the master bedroom and my parents crammed a full-sized mattress and a small chest of drawers into the small secondary bedroom and still had to move the bed six inches from the wall to make everything fit. I slept in the attic. My "dresser" and "book shelf" were milk crates stacked against the wall. Issues such as, did we have enough counter space to make our dinner, was the farthest thought from my mother's head. I loved my time in Vermont. Incidentally, I preferred the slums over the month or so we were homeless. When we were homeless it really stank. Having a house and our family together was all I really cared about as a kid.
I say this and I know I am lucky. I live in a sizable home. I saved for a down payment. I kept my credit clean to get a reasonable interest rate. I paid attention and bought at the right time. We have more than enough space--but I guarantee, the size of the house does not equate to my happiness. I also know if we had to, and we were homeless, and Marty was maxing our (hypothetical) credit card out on a hotel and it was keeping our family apart, I wouldn't be so selective. As wives and mothers, it isn't about us. We are grateful for our lives. I wish I could explain this to Mrs. Worrier.
The big picture is about family. We can create our own happiness and it doesn't come from a big, fancy home. Marty and I don't feel entitled. We are grateful, because we know it is only a house and it doesn't dictate our self worth.
There are seven people in her family. She is not independently wealthy, nor has she taken any steps to create financial freedom, much less become independently wealthy. She has told me more than once how both her brother and sister have half a million dollar homes. That's all well and good, but as Mr. Worrier has explained to her (and me), they made different choices. He happens to be ok with that.
My issue with Mrs. Worrier is that she is hell-bent on having the nicest and biggest house money can rent at the expense of her family. And from what I can tell, it is more about looking good in the eyes of others and less about taking care of her family. Essentially, she wants to keep up with the Jones siblings. As much as I detest professional victims, I am even more annoyed by those who feel entitled.
For the past sixteen out of seventeen years, the Worriers lived in a family rental where they were given under-market rent so they could save a little and buy a home. It was three bedrooms, modest, 1,500 square feet. Yea, that may be cramped, but it was a place to live. It was within their means, and frankly, it was a gift. And by the way, even though they were paying next to nothing, they never saved anything for that future dream home.
Last year, the Worriers rented a home and that was a bit of a disaster. When their lease was up, with no foresight, Mrs. Worrier moved her kids into her parent's house. Her husband lives in a hotel. Her parents weren't keen on this and now she and the kids are living in a different city in Central Arizona. Mr. Worrier is still paying $100 a night for a hotel. He works two jobs so his wife doesn't have to (desk job and Uber). Her job is to take care of her babies. A noble profession and vocation.
Taking a snapshot of today, they are homeless. They can find a home to live in. But instead, she is looking for Buckingham Palace and no other place will do. I am offended by this because it doesn't have to be this way. All she has to do is put her family first.
Both Marty and I grew up extremely poor. Marty grew up with the same number of people as the Worriers in an 800 square foot, three bedroom, one bath, single-wide in the middle of the desert. I can't imagine my late mother-in-law lamenting over needing a separate room just to fold clothes in. Needing new and fancy wasn't an issue.
Growing up, there were only five of us. When I was a teenager, because we were homeless, we moved to the slums in Burlington Vermont. Our 100 year old home was smaller than the one Marty lived in. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom My brothers had the master bedroom and my parents crammed a full-sized mattress and a small chest of drawers into the small secondary bedroom and still had to move the bed six inches from the wall to make everything fit. I slept in the attic. My "dresser" and "book shelf" were milk crates stacked against the wall. Issues such as, did we have enough counter space to make our dinner, was the farthest thought from my mother's head. I loved my time in Vermont. Incidentally, I preferred the slums over the month or so we were homeless. When we were homeless it really stank. Having a house and our family together was all I really cared about as a kid.
I say this and I know I am lucky. I live in a sizable home. I saved for a down payment. I kept my credit clean to get a reasonable interest rate. I paid attention and bought at the right time. We have more than enough space--but I guarantee, the size of the house does not equate to my happiness. I also know if we had to, and we were homeless, and Marty was maxing our (hypothetical) credit card out on a hotel and it was keeping our family apart, I wouldn't be so selective. As wives and mothers, it isn't about us. We are grateful for our lives. I wish I could explain this to Mrs. Worrier.
The big picture is about family. We can create our own happiness and it doesn't come from a big, fancy home. Marty and I don't feel entitled. We are grateful, because we know it is only a house and it doesn't dictate our self worth.
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Promises
I am struggling with a promise I made four months ago when I told Mrs. Worrier I would help her find a place to live. At the time I did not realize she was looking for a Malibu mansion, overlooking the ocean but located in the Saraha.
This past week, after changing my strategy, I sent a list of homes to Mr. and Mrs. Worrier (before Mrs. Worrier had insisted I not bother with her husband). Mr. Worrier contacted me immediately with "If it isn't too much trouble, may I see this one at 5:15 tonight? And thank you." Which may I say, the "thank you" was a nice add. A bit seasoned in this process, I innocently asked if I should meet Mrs. Worrier a bit earlier to make sure she had ample time to process everything?
It turns out Mrs. Worrier and her five children had been kicked out of her parent's home and are now living with a relative in Prescott (about an hour and a half north of Phoenix). Mr. Worrier is still paying a nightly rate for a hotel, as he has been for the past three months. What I was told (by the Mrs.) was that unless there were so "issues" Mr. Worrier can handle it. And that, my dear two readers, is when I started pounding my head against the wall.
Mr. Worrier showed up on time to this gorgeous four bedroom, 2,500 square foot home. He took a video. He examined every room, six times, all the while nodding his head. Yes, this would definitely do. Then, he put his wife on the phone to show her the lovely house he found and perhaps they could move in this week! However, she had a couple of objections. Here are a few snippets of the 3,871 concerns she had.
Her: "I'm worried there isn't enough food preparation space."
Him: "If the sixteen feet of counter top isn't enough, we can always chop our veggies on the kitchen table, which will also fit in the kitchen."
Her: "It needs a kitchen island."
Him: "We can buy one. After we move in." (he may have added that last sentence through gritted teeth.)
Her: "I'm worried there isn't room for my three sets of dishes."
Him: "We only have seven in our family, maybe we can put the other two sets in one of the storage cabinets." (We--as if I were part of this--settled on another cabinet from Ikea or wherever when they buy the island).
Her: "It has hardwoods. I am worried the dog will pee on them."
Me: "Is that normally a problem?"
Him to me: "No. Never."
Him to her: "There is the dog door."
Her: "It is too big. I'm worried someone can crawl in when you aren't home and attack us."
Him: "The dog will protect you. Plus, that's the size of dog door is what we need for Killer."
Her: "Where am I going to fold my clothes?"
Him (patiently) "Maybe the girls can help you with that? And they can always use the kitchen table."
Her: "You know I can't have them folding laundry while I am chopping veggies on there!"
And the list of weirdness continued. In the end, the house was a bust. The deal killer was the very old and faded teensy old water stain in the garage ceiling that might suggest (somehow) there was toxic mold in the house.
Sometime later in the week Mrs. Worrier asked me for another list of homes. I sent them directly to her husband. He can deal with her. I promised to find them a house. He promised her a lot more than that.
Note: To be fair, I spend one hundred times more time writing about the Worriers than actually driving places to show them homes. However, Mrs. Worrier has passed up three exceptionally wonderful houses because of her own self-sabotage. She is a very sweet woman, but I recognize she is a professional victim.
If she weren't my client, I might even be willing to sit down over iced tea and visit. Well, maybe not. Perhaps I might be willing to be Facebook friends. She came as a referral which is why I haven't outwardly fired her. But, I am not making much of an effort at this point either to help her out. And after all, let's face it, this is blog fodder.
This past week, after changing my strategy, I sent a list of homes to Mr. and Mrs. Worrier (before Mrs. Worrier had insisted I not bother with her husband). Mr. Worrier contacted me immediately with "If it isn't too much trouble, may I see this one at 5:15 tonight? And thank you." Which may I say, the "thank you" was a nice add. A bit seasoned in this process, I innocently asked if I should meet Mrs. Worrier a bit earlier to make sure she had ample time to process everything?
It turns out Mrs. Worrier and her five children had been kicked out of her parent's home and are now living with a relative in Prescott (about an hour and a half north of Phoenix). Mr. Worrier is still paying a nightly rate for a hotel, as he has been for the past three months. What I was told (by the Mrs.) was that unless there were so "issues" Mr. Worrier can handle it. And that, my dear two readers, is when I started pounding my head against the wall.
Mr. Worrier showed up on time to this gorgeous four bedroom, 2,500 square foot home. He took a video. He examined every room, six times, all the while nodding his head. Yes, this would definitely do. Then, he put his wife on the phone to show her the lovely house he found and perhaps they could move in this week! However, she had a couple of objections. Here are a few snippets of the 3,871 concerns she had.
Her: "I'm worried there isn't enough food preparation space."
Him: "If the sixteen feet of counter top isn't enough, we can always chop our veggies on the kitchen table, which will also fit in the kitchen."
Her: "It needs a kitchen island."
Him: "We can buy one. After we move in." (he may have added that last sentence through gritted teeth.)
Her: "I'm worried there isn't room for my three sets of dishes."
Him: "We only have seven in our family, maybe we can put the other two sets in one of the storage cabinets." (We--as if I were part of this--settled on another cabinet from Ikea or wherever when they buy the island).
Her: "It has hardwoods. I am worried the dog will pee on them."
Me: "Is that normally a problem?"
Him to me: "No. Never."
Him to her: "There is the dog door."
Her: "It is too big. I'm worried someone can crawl in when you aren't home and attack us."
Him: "The dog will protect you. Plus, that's the size of dog door is what we need for Killer."
Her: "Where am I going to fold my clothes?"
Him (patiently) "Maybe the girls can help you with that? And they can always use the kitchen table."
Her: "You know I can't have them folding laundry while I am chopping veggies on there!"
And the list of weirdness continued. In the end, the house was a bust. The deal killer was the very old and faded teensy old water stain in the garage ceiling that might suggest (somehow) there was toxic mold in the house.
Sometime later in the week Mrs. Worrier asked me for another list of homes. I sent them directly to her husband. He can deal with her. I promised to find them a house. He promised her a lot more than that.
Note: To be fair, I spend one hundred times more time writing about the Worriers than actually driving places to show them homes. However, Mrs. Worrier has passed up three exceptionally wonderful houses because of her own self-sabotage. She is a very sweet woman, but I recognize she is a professional victim.
If she weren't my client, I might even be willing to sit down over iced tea and visit. Well, maybe not. Perhaps I might be willing to be Facebook friends. She came as a referral which is why I haven't outwardly fired her. But, I am not making much of an effort at this point either to help her out. And after all, let's face it, this is blog fodder.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Up and Running-Ish
Did I mention the Arizona Department of Real Estate gave me 90 minutes to get my business up and running? 90 MINUTES!
I was told four weeks. Experience suggested it would be six weeks. The three weeks, six days and twenty-two and a half hours might have made a difference. Just saying.
Instead my logo wasn't done. My business e-mail address wasn't ready. My web site still isn't done. My business cards and signs were contingent on my logo. My listing agreement for my house I have wasn't completed. My bank account wasn't open. And the list goes on.
Above all that, I have taxed the patience of Scott my graphic artist, Sarah my marketing rep and I have no idea what the girl at the sign company might be saying about me, but I am sure it isn't pleasant. Usually I am pretty easy going, but because this is for my brand, I am super-fussy. "Can I see this sign with the blue on the bottom. Would you please bold only my name and make sure my phone number is a font smaller. May I see the same piece with green instead? Please use a serif font for my tagline and a sanserif font for my logo. Now may I see that the text the other way please? I just want to verify.
I am a true delight.
None of this of course comes for free, though Scott didn't charge me nearly enough for the work he did. The sign company throws in the cost of the artwork for "free." I owe my marketing rep lunch, dinner and babysitting at this rate. If I had the extra three weeks, six days and twenty-two and a half hours, I could have budgeted for this much better. Instead, I had emergency start-up costs. Necessary, but geeze! Isn't bureaucracy supposed to take longer than promised not shorter? I suppose this is a happy problem.
I have given myself through the end of this week to get my business up and running. Then I need to go make some money.
I was told four weeks. Experience suggested it would be six weeks. The three weeks, six days and twenty-two and a half hours might have made a difference. Just saying.
Instead my logo wasn't done. My business e-mail address wasn't ready. My web site still isn't done. My business cards and signs were contingent on my logo. My listing agreement for my house I have wasn't completed. My bank account wasn't open. And the list goes on.
Above all that, I have taxed the patience of Scott my graphic artist, Sarah my marketing rep and I have no idea what the girl at the sign company might be saying about me, but I am sure it isn't pleasant. Usually I am pretty easy going, but because this is for my brand, I am super-fussy. "Can I see this sign with the blue on the bottom. Would you please bold only my name and make sure my phone number is a font smaller. May I see the same piece with green instead? Please use a serif font for my tagline and a sanserif font for my logo. Now may I see that the text the other way please? I just want to verify.
I am a true delight.
None of this of course comes for free, though Scott didn't charge me nearly enough for the work he did. The sign company throws in the cost of the artwork for "free." I owe my marketing rep lunch, dinner and babysitting at this rate. If I had the extra three weeks, six days and twenty-two and a half hours, I could have budgeted for this much better. Instead, I had emergency start-up costs. Necessary, but geeze! Isn't bureaucracy supposed to take longer than promised not shorter? I suppose this is a happy problem.
I have given myself through the end of this week to get my business up and running. Then I need to go make some money.
Friday, January 5, 2018
The Logo
Earlier this week, when I thought I was starting a brokerage in March, I pulled up my old logo. I kept my old business name from years gone by (It closed in 2011) because I like the name, I own the domain name and frankly, it is kinda catchy. Anyway, I looked at the logo--a logo I used to really like and said, "meh." It would work. But the more I stared at it, the more I had reservations. The logo was created in a time when American culture was in a different space. And so was I. The logo reminded me too much of that. To me it screamed "backwards." I want forwards.
Doing what I always do when I need something designed, I called Scott. Scott and I first worked together when I was freelancing at a magazine long ago. Then, one of the publishers branched out and stole us away. And then I opened an accidental business, wrote a book that needed a cover and got a real estate license. So, I have pretty much kept Scott busy ever since.
On Tuesday, I sent the logo to Scott--he designed it, actually--asking him to do something with it. "Fix it or something," was the concrete direction I gave him. After a few several e-mails of me saying "something," he and I had a phone call where he begged for direction. Apparently in the past 18 years, Scott hasn't learned to read my mind.
The true issue is I have no artistic inclination whatsoever. I know what I like and what people tell me I like. I understand Comic Sans font is out (was it truly ever in?). I understand certain colors on the spectrum go together. But that's where my artistic understanding ends. And now, Scott, my go-to guy in these types of situations was asking me to tell him what to do! This role reversal unnerved me. I gave him what I thought was reasonable guidance. I said things like, "Why not make one of the letters a key?" Because, you know, real estate = keys. Right? Here is part of what Scott gave me.
In his defense, I also mentioned I would like the colors green and purple in part of the logo. I did not mean not these greens and purples. Apparently Scott proudly belongs to a class of people who think "eggshell," "ecru" and "tan" are the same colors.
I then gave Scott some Pantone colors--including blue and gold. This is what I got. You can kind of see the green Pantone I gave him in the graphic below. I accidentally cut it off.
Doing what I always do when I need something designed, I called Scott. Scott and I first worked together when I was freelancing at a magazine long ago. Then, one of the publishers branched out and stole us away. And then I opened an accidental business, wrote a book that needed a cover and got a real estate license. So, I have pretty much kept Scott busy ever since.
On Tuesday, I sent the logo to Scott--he designed it, actually--asking him to do something with it. "Fix it or something," was the concrete direction I gave him. After a few several e-mails of me saying "something," he and I had a phone call where he begged for direction. Apparently in the past 18 years, Scott hasn't learned to read my mind.
The true issue is I have no artistic inclination whatsoever. I know what I like and what people tell me I like. I understand Comic Sans font is out (was it truly ever in?). I understand certain colors on the spectrum go together. But that's where my artistic understanding ends. And now, Scott, my go-to guy in these types of situations was asking me to tell him what to do! This role reversal unnerved me. I gave him what I thought was reasonable guidance. I said things like, "Why not make one of the letters a key?" Because, you know, real estate = keys. Right? Here is part of what Scott gave me.
In his defense, I also mentioned I would like the colors green and purple in part of the logo. I did not mean not these greens and purples. Apparently Scott proudly belongs to a class of people who think "eggshell," "ecru" and "tan" are the same colors.
I then gave Scott some Pantone colors--including blue and gold. This is what I got. You can kind of see the green Pantone I gave him in the graphic below. I accidentally cut it off.
Then I sent him a palette with a few color selections that caught my eye. Coincidentally, Google said these colors were "trendy." Because I was still hell-bent on something quasi-purple, I suggested the Tawney Port might be a nice idea. He gave me Autumn Maple.
The major accomplishment on Wednesday was to decide (via committee of Scott, Marty, Buckaroo and myself) the key wasn't working in the logo. So, we went with a house icon. After all, I am selling houses, so there might be a correlation. Here is the house he gave me.
Now to be fair, Scott is all kinds of awesome. Marty has been lamenting that the poor guy was seeing an ugly side of me today, as I micromanaged this process with nano-changes (how about a door mat or flowers?). Incidentally, Scott mentioned the orange "popped." He is right, it does. I still hate it.
There were a few micro-issues with the font too, but once we got those worked out (solid color, no shadowing please,) we went back to the icon. Truly, the house felt incomplete. Buckaroo said it needed walls. It made me think of the burned out buildings I have seen. No, this would not do. So, I set Scott to work on a few house designs, including ones I drew on my phone with my jeans as the backdrop (I was parked at a red light).
Scott responded with the following pictures and an optimistic "How are these? Is this your vision?"
It was not my vision. Buckaroo shook his head. Marty offered his pity to Scott. I mentally tallied how many hours he had worked on this and how much I was going to owe him.
We had all liked the concept of a house. It was the first house I just didn't like. When I looked at it again, I realized what I didn't like was that it just looked incomplete. So after we dithered about the house design all day Thursday, I told him to please put eaves and a doorknob and please send it back.
In three minutes flat, Scott sent me this.
And it was perfect.
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Full Steam Ahead
Tuesday, while I was taking my classes online to finish up the last requirements I needed, I talked to El Jefe. He was supportive. He told me to come on back when I got bored from doing this myself. I am always welcome at his office.
I had talked to Jane earlier in the week and she actually interviewed (from my introduction) with Mrs. Hufflepuff yesterday. I believe she is going to join them. Also, she and Mrs. Hufflepuff are now Facebook friends. Jane also admonished me for being nervous in talking to her. Turns out she was planning on leaving El Jefe anyway.
Yesterday, I turned everything into the Department of Real Estate at 11 and was approved by 12:45. Just the approval process from the Department alone I am told takes three weeks. It didn't even take three hours! Since then I have been moving non-stop. Everything electronic with my name on it has to be changed to reflect I am a Designated Broker. Technically this blog too, if I used my name. But let's resolve this right now: Me writing this and you reading this in no way implies agency. Are we good?
Later today, I get my listing back. El Jefe signed it over to me but there is some paperwork involved that requires a small extortion fee from the realtor association. Today I also open a bank account and (hopefully) get business cards and a couple of signs made. That is, if my graphic artist and I can hash something out. Its been fun collaborating, but I am afraid he is going to charge me a PITA fee if this goes much longer. Eventually I will have an e-mail address and a web site.
The last item on my list for today is just to breathe.
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
New Brokerage Update
A few interesting opportunities presented themselves on Monday. First, El Jefe, sent out a new employment agreement for me to sign. This one is favorable, but I don't want to sign it. I want to leave. Nothing made me want to get going more than reading over the though-favorable-not-what-I-wanted employment agreement.
Second, it turns out, external "back up" hard drives break. And never let it be said they do it when you are in a chill mode. "Yea, I need that file, but if I never see it again, no biggie." It doesn't work like that. Instead--as a friend told me--it is more like "I hope I saved that file from 2004 because the world will end if I don't have it." Incidentally, my logo was originally created in 2004.
And as a side note, apparently not everything put on the Internet is still on the Internet. Including my logo. But, because I am a bit of a computer file hoarder, I found the old logo on my former laptop (now Marty's laptop). When I saw the logo, I thought, "Meh, I don't love it as much as I thought I did." so I sent it out to my graphic artist friend who will hopefully be inspired. If he isn't, well, I will deal with it for now. But it won't be my permanent logo.
Monday I also called my client, the one listing I have. She said she would cancel at a moment's notice and go with me. I explained she might need to say this in writing that she feels this way, because I don't see El Jefe being so cooperative me taking a $539,000 listing from him. "Whatever you need," she said. I so appreciate that.
Everything about the "let's start a brokerage" hobby is moving faster than I anticipated. That isn't a complaint, but an observation. And for the most part, it is falling into place easily.
Second, it turns out, external "back up" hard drives break. And never let it be said they do it when you are in a chill mode. "Yea, I need that file, but if I never see it again, no biggie." It doesn't work like that. Instead--as a friend told me--it is more like "I hope I saved that file from 2004 because the world will end if I don't have it." Incidentally, my logo was originally created in 2004.
And as a side note, apparently not everything put on the Internet is still on the Internet. Including my logo. But, because I am a bit of a computer file hoarder, I found the old logo on my former laptop (now Marty's laptop). When I saw the logo, I thought, "Meh, I don't love it as much as I thought I did." so I sent it out to my graphic artist friend who will hopefully be inspired. If he isn't, well, I will deal with it for now. But it won't be my permanent logo.
Monday I also called my client, the one listing I have. She said she would cancel at a moment's notice and go with me. I explained she might need to say this in writing that she feels this way, because I don't see El Jefe being so cooperative me taking a $539,000 listing from him. "Whatever you need," she said. I so appreciate that.
Everything about the "let's start a brokerage" hobby is moving faster than I anticipated. That isn't a complaint, but an observation. And for the most part, it is falling into place easily.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
She's Back
Well, Mrs. Worrier is back. She has found a lovely home (on Zillow--because she is refusing to allow me to send her listings) for $1950 a month. It is managed by a property management company, so I don't know how far along this process will go. I do know I am not getting out of my comfy chair to show her this home until this, and her other unrealistic requests are addressed.
I looked at the photos and I can already see lots of dangerous issues. There are built in shelves--she will be worried her kids will climb them and fall. There is a landing at the top of the staircase, where her children may tumble to their demise. There are windows the littles can fall out of. There is a bathtub the cherubs can drown in (after they fill the tub up, of course). There is a stove, sidewalk, and locks on the doors. And the list of potential hazards goes on.
The home is 3,800 square feet, five bedroom and has a three car garage. I think the place should rent--easily--for $2200 if it weren't the first week of January. The Worriers simply cannot afford that much money for rent. So, Mrs. Worrier asked me if I could please check and see if the owner would be willing to take $1700 a month for a two year lease. Honestly even if they were to get a rent reduction, they still can't handle the water, utilities and maintenance costs. The house is huge.
I have to tell you, I have no idea why potential renters think this is a bargaining tool. You are offering less money--which means, most likely, you can't afford the rent--for an opportunity to stay longer. Why would a landlord do this? Let's see... they can take a one year lease and make roughly $23,400 for the year, and then next year raise the rent if necessary, or take a two year lease for less money and be locked into a business relationship for longer and for less proceeds.
In the metro Phoenix area, we have not been in a tenant's market since 2010 and I don't see it changing soon. Tenants really have little bargaining power and I don't know for any reason--even when there are more homes to choose from--why a landlord would willingly agree to this.
There are homes available in Mrs. Worrier's price range. But they aren't good enough. They are "too small" (Marty and I grew up in significantly smaller--and Marty lived in a larger family than the Worriers) and not "new" and "modern" enough. I honestly wish someone would be able to explain to the tenants and buyers of the world, if it is new and modern today, it won't be in three years. There truly is an argument for functional and utilitarian.
I looked at the photos and I can already see lots of dangerous issues. There are built in shelves--she will be worried her kids will climb them and fall. There is a landing at the top of the staircase, where her children may tumble to their demise. There are windows the littles can fall out of. There is a bathtub the cherubs can drown in (after they fill the tub up, of course). There is a stove, sidewalk, and locks on the doors. And the list of potential hazards goes on.
The home is 3,800 square feet, five bedroom and has a three car garage. I think the place should rent--easily--for $2200 if it weren't the first week of January. The Worriers simply cannot afford that much money for rent. So, Mrs. Worrier asked me if I could please check and see if the owner would be willing to take $1700 a month for a two year lease. Honestly even if they were to get a rent reduction, they still can't handle the water, utilities and maintenance costs. The house is huge.
I have to tell you, I have no idea why potential renters think this is a bargaining tool. You are offering less money--which means, most likely, you can't afford the rent--for an opportunity to stay longer. Why would a landlord do this? Let's see... they can take a one year lease and make roughly $23,400 for the year, and then next year raise the rent if necessary, or take a two year lease for less money and be locked into a business relationship for longer and for less proceeds.
In the metro Phoenix area, we have not been in a tenant's market since 2010 and I don't see it changing soon. Tenants really have little bargaining power and I don't know for any reason--even when there are more homes to choose from--why a landlord would willingly agree to this.
There are homes available in Mrs. Worrier's price range. But they aren't good enough. They are "too small" (Marty and I grew up in significantly smaller--and Marty lived in a larger family than the Worriers) and not "new" and "modern" enough. I honestly wish someone would be able to explain to the tenants and buyers of the world, if it is new and modern today, it won't be in three years. There truly is an argument for functional and utilitarian.
Monday, January 1, 2018
Happy 2018
In other news, the Arizona Corporation Commission sent me an e-mail Friday. I am approved!
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