Yesterday I spoke in front of 50 agents for my local association's Critical Needs Fund. The Critical Needs Fund is the true reason I joined the Hell Committee (aka the "Community Outreach Committee.")
This fund is 100% funded by agents and 100% of the money is given to agents and their families who may have a need. I know of an agent who unexpectedly passed away last year, leaving a wife and two children. I contacted the local association and some of their immediate expenses were met. It is a hand up, not a hand out.
Real Estate is not a dog-eat-dog type of vocation. We have to work together to get sales made and houses closed. We also need to be able to rely on each other when times are tough. For that reason, and that reason only, I was thrilled to have a chance to speak and earn money for this cause.
Update: My fundraising efforts got more than $250. Apparently that was a lot for one class. Glad it is going to a good cause.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Monday, April 29, 2019
Oh... The Irony
I only wish I could make this up.
Mel, the realtor association's liaison to the Community Outreach Committee took me aside today. She said I have great ideas and bring a lot of "positive energy" to our Community Outreach Committee meetings. She was genuine and I was pleased someone, anyone, at those meetings felt I could make a contribution.
Then, she dropped this bombshell: would be willing to serve as Vice Chair for the 2020 Community Outreach Committee? What an opportunity! I could be Muffy's right-hand minion!
Unfortunately, as I delicately explained to Mel, I don't think I would be a good fit.
Mel, the realtor association's liaison to the Community Outreach Committee took me aside today. She said I have great ideas and bring a lot of "positive energy" to our Community Outreach Committee meetings. She was genuine and I was pleased someone, anyone, at those meetings felt I could make a contribution.
Then, she dropped this bombshell: would be willing to serve as Vice Chair for the 2020 Community Outreach Committee? What an opportunity! I could be Muffy's right-hand minion!
Unfortunately, as I delicately explained to Mel, I don't think I would be a good fit.
Sunday, April 28, 2019
Why I Hate My Job
I absolutely hate the lack of respect my clients have for my boundaries. I am not alone, this is a complaint for agents everywhere. Even when we outline our boundaries, clients don't think it applies to them. They have no idea how obnoxious they can be. Which is too bad, because they wouldn't treat their doctor, lawyer, nail technician or kid's teacher this way.
There are many examples in my years in real estate. Here aretwo three four that come to mind.
1. I was helping a woman find a rental home. She needed it in eight weeks. I told her repeatedly she was looking too soon. So what does she do? She calls me at 2 a.m. When I don't answer, she calls again. And again. Then, she texts me to tell me she has found three houses she needs to see and she is free two days later to view them. I wrote her back and told her she was rude and would never treat any other working professional this way, and for that reason, she was fired. The next day her mother called, yelling at me because I wouldn't help her adult daughter find a rental home. Perhaps I wasn't the first agent to fire her?
2. I once had a buyer call me at 5 a.m. because he found a house to see. I pointed out it was 5 a.m. and he said, "If you don't show it to me, I will find someone who will!" I hope that worked out for him.
3. Inga sent me a weird text at 11 p.m. this past Friday night. It made no sense, partially I am sure because of autocorrect and perhaps partially because English isn't her first language. Her text was missing verbs and had way too many pronouns.
I wrote her back telling her I didn't understand and perhaps we could discuss whatever issue she was having in the morning. That started a firestorm of texts from her telling me how sorry she was to have bothered me with her personal problems and not to misunderstand her intentions. Nowhere in her messages did it say anything about the fact she contacted me at 11 p.m. (granted, I wrote her back). I wrote back saying, "It's fine, let's talk tomorrow. Good night." which did nothing to mollify her, so I turned off my phone. In the morning I found seven more messages from the night before her saying she was sorry for bothering me and not to misinterpret what she wrote.
A couple hours later, on Saturday morning she wrote me another message asking me to disregard all of her text messages the night before and how sorry she was to get me involved. I wrote her back and said, "I have no idea what the first message said. I still don't. Please note, I am off this weekend. I am happy to take your calls on Monday."
4. Ari called me while I was at lunch with my family Saturday morning. He was losing his mind because he was afraid the loan would fall through. I told him I had spoken in-depth with the loan officer the day before, and I did not get that vibe. We certainly weren't closing on time (because of the loan officer Mama picked). But, falling through seemed to be a bit of a stretch. That did nothing for Ari's meltdown. I offered to call the loan officer and clarify, maybe I missed something. The loan officer said Ari is overreacting and if worse comes to worse, Ari's folks will co-sign. But we certainly aren't at that point. I also called the selling agent just to make sure he was on board with a late closing. The loan officer had called him the day before and told him what was going on. So, there was nothing new as of 3 p.m. Friday afternoon.
The entire phone tag exchange took more than 45 minutes. The ordeal was a result of Ari's imagination or his phone calls with his know-it-all mother. In the end, I said to Ari, "You have loan questions, and those really should be addressed to your loan officer. Why don't you call him?"
His reply, "I didn't want to bug him. He is probably doing family things on his day off."
There are many examples in my years in real estate. Here are
1. I was helping a woman find a rental home. She needed it in eight weeks. I told her repeatedly she was looking too soon. So what does she do? She calls me at 2 a.m. When I don't answer, she calls again. And again. Then, she texts me to tell me she has found three houses she needs to see and she is free two days later to view them. I wrote her back and told her she was rude and would never treat any other working professional this way, and for that reason, she was fired. The next day her mother called, yelling at me because I wouldn't help her adult daughter find a rental home. Perhaps I wasn't the first agent to fire her?
2. I once had a buyer call me at 5 a.m. because he found a house to see. I pointed out it was 5 a.m. and he said, "If you don't show it to me, I will find someone who will!" I hope that worked out for him.
3. Inga sent me a weird text at 11 p.m. this past Friday night. It made no sense, partially I am sure because of autocorrect and perhaps partially because English isn't her first language. Her text was missing verbs and had way too many pronouns.
I wrote her back telling her I didn't understand and perhaps we could discuss whatever issue she was having in the morning. That started a firestorm of texts from her telling me how sorry she was to have bothered me with her personal problems and not to misunderstand her intentions. Nowhere in her messages did it say anything about the fact she contacted me at 11 p.m. (granted, I wrote her back). I wrote back saying, "It's fine, let's talk tomorrow. Good night." which did nothing to mollify her, so I turned off my phone. In the morning I found seven more messages from the night before her saying she was sorry for bothering me and not to misinterpret what she wrote.
A couple hours later, on Saturday morning she wrote me another message asking me to disregard all of her text messages the night before and how sorry she was to get me involved. I wrote her back and said, "I have no idea what the first message said. I still don't. Please note, I am off this weekend. I am happy to take your calls on Monday."
4. Ari called me while I was at lunch with my family Saturday morning. He was losing his mind because he was afraid the loan would fall through. I told him I had spoken in-depth with the loan officer the day before, and I did not get that vibe. We certainly weren't closing on time (because of the loan officer Mama picked). But, falling through seemed to be a bit of a stretch. That did nothing for Ari's meltdown. I offered to call the loan officer and clarify, maybe I missed something. The loan officer said Ari is overreacting and if worse comes to worse, Ari's folks will co-sign. But we certainly aren't at that point. I also called the selling agent just to make sure he was on board with a late closing. The loan officer had called him the day before and told him what was going on. So, there was nothing new as of 3 p.m. Friday afternoon.
The entire phone tag exchange took more than 45 minutes. The ordeal was a result of Ari's imagination or his phone calls with his know-it-all mother. In the end, I said to Ari, "You have loan questions, and those really should be addressed to your loan officer. Why don't you call him?"
His reply, "I didn't want to bug him. He is probably doing family things on his day off."
Friday, April 26, 2019
Ari's Sale
Ari's sale isn't going so hot. We are supposed to close next week. However the loan officer--I did not pick him, Ari's mom did--is not exactly Johnny on the spot. The dates in the purchase contract seem to be mere suggestions to him, which is unfortunate because I am one heartbeat away from an aneurysm.
Additionally, and I am no loan expert here, the underwriter is asking for things that I truly feel the loan officer should have anticipated. In fact, I recall having chats with this guy six weeks ago asking if the underwriter might have a problem or two with a few particulars in Ari's documents. "Why would he?" the loan officer asked.
Why indeed?
I have called the loan officer every day this week. After three days of him not replying, with my text, voice and e-mail messages saying things like, "I hope all is ok. It seems unusual that I haven't heard from you," I called his boss, just to make sure the loan officer was alive. It is simply miraculous how quickly a non-responsive loan officer can learn to communicate under those circumstances.
Anyway, here we are. We are supposed to close next week and we are nowhere near what I would comfortably say is a certain this is happening. I am loathe to tell the other agent because the house wasn't on MLS and I know the seller can get more money for the place. So, before I go begging the other side for grace, I want to have some concrete answers.
It is a source of general frustration when clients use loan officers I don't know. Loan officers aren't all cut from the same cloth. This guy is not terrible, but he doesn't handle unusual situations with any amount of creativity. Nor do I find him to be proactive, which is something I value in my business partners.
I believe Ari's home will close--provided the sellers don't decide to call us out and cancel. But it probably won't close on time. And that's a shame, because I think if this loan officer had been a little more attentive, it would have.
Additionally, and I am no loan expert here, the underwriter is asking for things that I truly feel the loan officer should have anticipated. In fact, I recall having chats with this guy six weeks ago asking if the underwriter might have a problem or two with a few particulars in Ari's documents. "Why would he?" the loan officer asked.
Why indeed?
I have called the loan officer every day this week. After three days of him not replying, with my text, voice and e-mail messages saying things like, "I hope all is ok. It seems unusual that I haven't heard from you," I called his boss, just to make sure the loan officer was alive. It is simply miraculous how quickly a non-responsive loan officer can learn to communicate under those circumstances.
Anyway, here we are. We are supposed to close next week and we are nowhere near what I would comfortably say is a certain this is happening. I am loathe to tell the other agent because the house wasn't on MLS and I know the seller can get more money for the place. So, before I go begging the other side for grace, I want to have some concrete answers.
It is a source of general frustration when clients use loan officers I don't know. Loan officers aren't all cut from the same cloth. This guy is not terrible, but he doesn't handle unusual situations with any amount of creativity. Nor do I find him to be proactive, which is something I value in my business partners.
I believe Ari's home will close--provided the sellers don't decide to call us out and cancel. But it probably won't close on time. And that's a shame, because I think if this loan officer had been a little more attentive, it would have.
Realtor for Life
About 11 months ago, Diamond Jim announced he was killing himself. I was nowhere near him at the time but I had my phone and I dialed 911. When the authorities got there he denounced me as a liar and said I made up the whole entire scenario for some sick ploy for attention. Then his sister, whom I had never met in the 15 years I knew Diamond Jim, called me and laid into me for "not minding my business." It was the icing on the cake of a lot of other Diamond Jim dramas over the week prior.
I have not spoken to him since.
Yesterday I got a voice mail from Inga. She said she had looked over my paperwork and she, "just couldn't deal with it." She then said she was going to take two pills and sleep. She thanked me for everything and told me that Liam has a key to the home. The message was 59 seconds long. It had been left an hour prior. I listened to it twice before I called Liam.
When Liam answered the phone, I explained to him the message and did that mean she was taking a nap, perhaps? He assured me it did. The medication was for the pain in her leg.
I tried to casually ask if perhaps Inga had other underlying issues going on that might need some immediate attention and he assured me he spoke with her just ten minutes earlier and she was perfectly fine. She was just tired from packing and she couldn't concentrate. I thanked him, knowing I would have felt just terrible if didn't get clarification and ignored what could have been a serious situation.
Liam didn't say I irrationally jumped to a silly conclusion, but I sure wish he would have.
I have not spoken to him since.
Yesterday I got a voice mail from Inga. She said she had looked over my paperwork and she, "just couldn't deal with it." She then said she was going to take two pills and sleep. She thanked me for everything and told me that Liam has a key to the home. The message was 59 seconds long. It had been left an hour prior. I listened to it twice before I called Liam.
When Liam answered the phone, I explained to him the message and did that mean she was taking a nap, perhaps? He assured me it did. The medication was for the pain in her leg.
I tried to casually ask if perhaps Inga had other underlying issues going on that might need some immediate attention and he assured me he spoke with her just ten minutes earlier and she was perfectly fine. She was just tired from packing and she couldn't concentrate. I thanked him, knowing I would have felt just terrible if didn't get clarification and ignored what could have been a serious situation.
Liam didn't say I irrationally jumped to a silly conclusion, but I sure wish he would have.
Wednesday, April 24, 2019
The Nephew
So here's the deal: in February, Inga had two boarders. Shane the felon, and if you want the story behind that, feel free to look in the archives. Shane is gone. His parole officer got involved. The police got involved. And after a thinly veiled threat to Inga (in writing, no less!), the judge got involved. I don't know where the dude is and I don't care.
Inga's other boarder has been living in her home since some time last summer. I have never seen him, but he just happens to be Shane's nephew. He also has not followed his lease. Inga has a soft heart for such lost souls, and has been letting the Nephew off the hook when it comes to the basics of the lease, like paying the actual rent.
When life with Shane got unpleasant, the Nephew stayed with Inga--though I don't really think he took her side. As I may have inappropriately pointed out to Inga, why would he move? The price is right and he doesn't take her threats of eviction seriously.
Anyway, Inga and Liam (her estranged husband) have done everything to get rid of the Nephew short of the only legal course of action: serving him with eviction papers. This, of course, is what I have been telling her to do for months. When Liam called me earlier this month, he said that he gave the Nephew ANOTHER 30 day notice. But not to worry! This time Liam was absolutely super-duper sure the Nephew would oblige.
Now then, for all of you who have gone to my crash-course landlord school, what do you think happened? Take your time. I will wait here while you look through your notes. I believe in open-book quizzes.
To the surprise of only Liam and Inga, guess what!? The Nephew is still there. And yes, things have gotten ugly. The police were called this week. A police officer even took her aside and told her to get an immediate order of protection. And from what I understand Inga actually called an attorney--something I have told her to do for months. However, I don't think she has gotten the order of protection.
All this crazy backstory is to tell you about the text I just got. I am guessing there has been some action on the whole eviction front because she wrote me, wanting to know what to do. You see someone has advised her not to go near the Nephew's personal belongings. However, the Nephew's cat is in his bedroom and appears to be in (her words) "distress." She wanted to know what she should she do?
My true feeling is it would be acting as a reasonable person by peeking open the door, checking on the cat and make sure it has water.
As history shows, Inga doesn't listen to me anyway. And if she did, I would have no blog fodder, so win-win, right? What I told her was to immediately call her attorney. Pay the $200 an hour for this phone call and find out what he thought she should do. I wasn't touching this one. Perhaps she will listen to someone whose advice she is willing to pay for.
Inga's other boarder has been living in her home since some time last summer. I have never seen him, but he just happens to be Shane's nephew. He also has not followed his lease. Inga has a soft heart for such lost souls, and has been letting the Nephew off the hook when it comes to the basics of the lease, like paying the actual rent.
When life with Shane got unpleasant, the Nephew stayed with Inga--though I don't really think he took her side. As I may have inappropriately pointed out to Inga, why would he move? The price is right and he doesn't take her threats of eviction seriously.
Anyway, Inga and Liam (her estranged husband) have done everything to get rid of the Nephew short of the only legal course of action: serving him with eviction papers. This, of course, is what I have been telling her to do for months. When Liam called me earlier this month, he said that he gave the Nephew ANOTHER 30 day notice. But not to worry! This time Liam was absolutely super-duper sure the Nephew would oblige.
Now then, for all of you who have gone to my crash-course landlord school, what do you think happened? Take your time. I will wait here while you look through your notes. I believe in open-book quizzes.
To the surprise of only Liam and Inga, guess what!? The Nephew is still there. And yes, things have gotten ugly. The police were called this week. A police officer even took her aside and told her to get an immediate order of protection. And from what I understand Inga actually called an attorney--something I have told her to do for months. However, I don't think she has gotten the order of protection.
All this crazy backstory is to tell you about the text I just got. I am guessing there has been some action on the whole eviction front because she wrote me, wanting to know what to do. You see someone has advised her not to go near the Nephew's personal belongings. However, the Nephew's cat is in his bedroom and appears to be in (her words) "distress." She wanted to know what she should she do?
My true feeling is it would be acting as a reasonable person by peeking open the door, checking on the cat and make sure it has water.
As history shows, Inga doesn't listen to me anyway. And if she did, I would have no blog fodder, so win-win, right? What I told her was to immediately call her attorney. Pay the $200 an hour for this phone call and find out what he thought she should do. I wasn't touching this one. Perhaps she will listen to someone whose advice she is willing to pay for.
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
Inga Update
Inga thinks she selling her house again. I feel horrible for her. She is in a tough place emotionally and physically. Honestly, she cannot afford to continue down this path she is on, so it was just a matter of time before she called me or some other unsuspecting real estate agent. The good news is that the values in her neighborhood have gone up, so what I was planning on selling the house for back in January just took a boost. Go Inga!
Today I sent the paperwork to her and Liam. I haven't heard anything back yet, but that isn't a surprise either. This is really painful for her. This house is her home but it also symbolizes a lot more. She is of an age and from an area of Europe where owning property was unheard of before 1989.
Will I actually list the house? I have no idea. I guarantee I am not calling the sign company for a third time and paying to have them place a sign in the yard until the day it goes on the market. Also, I told her I am going on vacation soon, so she will need to keep that in mind if she waits too long. I don't think she believes me. But then again, I don't necessarily believe Inga is ready to let go.
Today I sent the paperwork to her and Liam. I haven't heard anything back yet, but that isn't a surprise either. This is really painful for her. This house is her home but it also symbolizes a lot more. She is of an age and from an area of Europe where owning property was unheard of before 1989.
Will I actually list the house? I have no idea. I guarantee I am not calling the sign company for a third time and paying to have them place a sign in the yard until the day it goes on the market. Also, I told her I am going on vacation soon, so she will need to keep that in mind if she waits too long. I don't think she believes me. But then again, I don't necessarily believe Inga is ready to let go.
The Dead-End Uncertainville Road
Well, Marty's interview went off without a hitch. In fact, he is being recommended from whomever he spoke with for a second interview. However, I already know this one is a dead end.
The job is in a major metropolitan area, not a metro area of 200,000 like we originally thought. Not our fault. Their web site says they are in Nowhereville. However, the company recently had a wild hair to pull out of Nowhereville and move their corporate headquarter to Capital City. The other reason this is not going anywhere is, even though it is in a major metro area that has a higher cost of living than Phoenix, the pay is 75 percent less than what he currently makes now.
Marty was hedging when I spoke with him today. He isn't sure if he is interested or if he is not interested. After 21 years of marriage, I know he really isn't--even if he hasn't figured it out.
The rule in our marriage is that only one of us is allowed to have an identity crisis at a time. And to be fair, Marty has waited patiently for his turn. However, the other spouses's job when this occurs is to be the voice of reason. So, even if his mid-life crisis puts him over the brink and he wants to continue down this road with this particular company, he will have a hard time convincing me this is a good idea.
Plus, I hate the local-ish MLB baseball team. He will have to do better.
The job is in a major metropolitan area, not a metro area of 200,000 like we originally thought. Not our fault. Their web site says they are in Nowhereville. However, the company recently had a wild hair to pull out of Nowhereville and move their corporate headquarter to Capital City. The other reason this is not going anywhere is, even though it is in a major metro area that has a higher cost of living than Phoenix, the pay is 75 percent less than what he currently makes now.
Marty was hedging when I spoke with him today. He isn't sure if he is interested or if he is not interested. After 21 years of marriage, I know he really isn't--even if he hasn't figured it out.
The rule in our marriage is that only one of us is allowed to have an identity crisis at a time. And to be fair, Marty has waited patiently for his turn. However, the other spouses's job when this occurs is to be the voice of reason. So, even if his mid-life crisis puts him over the brink and he wants to continue down this road with this particular company, he will have a hard time convincing me this is a good idea.
Plus, I hate the local-ish MLB baseball team. He will have to do better.
Saturday, April 20, 2019
A No-Brainer
By the way, I totally understand Ari's frustration. He is thisclose to owning his house. Why not just use the vacant garage to put his things in? What could possibly go wrong with storing a few personal items in a home one doesn't own?
Well, because you are just dying to know:
1. The very first listing I ever had, the garage caught fire three days before close of escrow.
2. I once listed a vacant home and two days before close of escrow the buyer's agent called me, absolutely furious. There was a problem and what was my seller going to do about it? You see, the buyers bought new appliances and the buyer's agent let them into my client's home to install said appliances. No permission was granted on the selling side. In fact, nobody bothered to tell me or my client this was happening at all--including the thug who broke in and stole the brand new appliances shortly after the buyer left. The buyer's agent was demanding my client reimburse his client for the appliances and fix the broken window and door.
3. Once, very early in my real estate career, my client had permission from the seller to go in and "fix a few up things" in what was going to be his new rental home. This was supposed to be just a few days before we were closing and there was paperwork drawn up to allow my client in the home. It turns out, my client moved his tenants in instead. Because of loan issues, the sale was delayed and the old owners ended up being landlords for a few weeks. They weren't happy. Neither was my client when he had to pay the old owner the rent from his tenants.
4. This one didn't happen to me! A colleague of mine got permission from the seller to allow the buyer to move the buyer's furniture and worldly into the garage a week before the buyers were closing. The pipe going to the hot water heater (located in the garage) burst. There were a lot of ruined items in that garage.
5. I have walked in on more than one "vacant" home to find squatters. So imagine if squatters had the means to someone else's personal documents, prized heirlooms or other pawnable items of value? Plus, with Ari still in the justice court system, he doesn't need police officers called to his soon-to-be home for something he is involved in, no matter if he is the victim or not.
There are more stories like this. I am not sorry I told Ari no. It is for his own good, whether he likes it or not.
Well, because you are just dying to know:
1. The very first listing I ever had, the garage caught fire three days before close of escrow.
2. I once listed a vacant home and two days before close of escrow the buyer's agent called me, absolutely furious. There was a problem and what was my seller going to do about it? You see, the buyers bought new appliances and the buyer's agent let them into my client's home to install said appliances. No permission was granted on the selling side. In fact, nobody bothered to tell me or my client this was happening at all--including the thug who broke in and stole the brand new appliances shortly after the buyer left. The buyer's agent was demanding my client reimburse his client for the appliances and fix the broken window and door.
3. Once, very early in my real estate career, my client had permission from the seller to go in and "fix a few up things" in what was going to be his new rental home. This was supposed to be just a few days before we were closing and there was paperwork drawn up to allow my client in the home. It turns out, my client moved his tenants in instead. Because of loan issues, the sale was delayed and the old owners ended up being landlords for a few weeks. They weren't happy. Neither was my client when he had to pay the old owner the rent from his tenants.
4. This one didn't happen to me! A colleague of mine got permission from the seller to allow the buyer to move the buyer's furniture and worldly into the garage a week before the buyers were closing. The pipe going to the hot water heater (located in the garage) burst. There were a lot of ruined items in that garage.
5. I have walked in on more than one "vacant" home to find squatters. So imagine if squatters had the means to someone else's personal documents, prized heirlooms or other pawnable items of value? Plus, with Ari still in the justice court system, he doesn't need police officers called to his soon-to-be home for something he is involved in, no matter if he is the victim or not.
There are more stories like this. I am not sorry I told Ari no. It is for his own good, whether he likes it or not.
Friday, April 19, 2019
Nope, No, Nada, NO
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| I Use This Button Often. |
So Ari called me. You see, his next storage payment is due on the 27 of the month. Because we aren't closing until after the 27th, Ari wanted to know if he could pretty-please, move his furniture into the garage of his soon-to-be home.
Now, I hate to be the bad guy here, but the answer is NO. But of course, that didn't stop Ari from pushing further. "Where will I put my furniture?" he asked. That's easy, in your storage unit--where it already is.
"But nobody is using the garage right now," he added.
That's true, but it isn't his garage. Ari's argument continued but I didn't budge. The seller in this case is out of the country and is self-insured. There are probably other keys floating around from the former tenants who may have friends. There could be squatters hanging out when we aren't there, too. The neighborhood is so scary that once I was there alone with Seth the felon one morning. He insisted on walking me out the front door and to my car IN THE DRIVEWAY, because he didn't feel the street was safe for me. Frankly, I agreed.
I didn't go into great detail with Ari but gave him a reasonable enough explanation for him to figure out this wasn't happening no matter how many different ways he phrased it. He may be disappointed, but his worldly belongings are in good hands.
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Uncertainville Update
It appears the job is actually in a very large, crowded city where alligators fear to tread. So, it doesn't look like it is happening.
Not saying I am giving a sigh of relief, but at least I don't have to ride this interview roller coaster this week.
I hope.
Plus, I hate the "local" baseball team, so I wasn't a fan of this one anyway.
Not saying I am giving a sigh of relief, but at least I don't have to ride this interview roller coaster this week.
I hope.
Plus, I hate the "local" baseball team, so I wasn't a fan of this one anyway.
Costco Update
The Costco and Trader Joe's are mere minutes from each other.! However, they are more than an hour away from this new place where Marty is interviewing.
Don't even get me started on the baseball team.
Don't even get me started on the baseball team.
Another Mental Trip to Uncertainville
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| The Road To Uncertainville |
As it turns out, the interview is now moved to next week, which is unfortunate because I had purposely not put much effort into researching this new place, and now I have way too much free time and a healthy curiosity. So I suppose it is time to figure out where the closest Costo might be located.
This particular location has a few perks. First--and this is a biggie--it is not South of the Tropic of Cancer. Nor is it in the swamp, though it turns out there have been a few sightings of swamp-like critters in this particular town (Ok, yes I did do some research on alligator sightings. There have been three that made the news in the past year. All of which were more than five feet long and scare the hell out of me). Second, this particular job is located in a rather smallish metro area with lower cost of living and similar wages to Mesa. I can get on board with that. And third, the air quality seems to be cleaner there from what I am reading, which is something along the lines of spectacular, especially as I listened helplessly to Polly gasping for air this morning, while her asthma got the best of her.
Speaking of Polly, she finds the idea of living what is roughly the Plains appealing because, as she explained to all of us, it is prime tornado land. To be fair, Polly has never been in a tornado and I have assured her they are more fun to watch on TV than in the top floor of a hotel in Birmingham, West Georgia.
At any rate, Marty has an interview next week. It will either go poorly and this alligator-infested area will be off the list. Or it will go well and he will move on to the phase of the interview stage--which will mean absolutely nothing has changed except he will have yet, another conversation at a later time--and I will be thinking of all sorts of other microscopic and potentially inconsequential details to address.
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
Muffed part 2
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| Muffy* telling me, once again, my idea wouldn't work. She says that a lot. (*Ok, that's not really Muffy but it looks like her and the facial expression is perfect) |
Issue 2: The Community Outreach Committee handles providing key boxes to the community. These key boxes are put on the homes of the elderly and disabled, so that if the resident of the home calls 911 and is unable to answer, the police and fire don't have to break down the door. They can use the key in the box. This program is wildly popular and there is a long waiting list for these key boxes. We (the Committee) work with the fire departments of the local cities and distribute these boxes. It is an ongoing service project. Each box costs about $10. Before the key box is given to the fire department, we affix a sticker on the back, with the local realtor association information--like a commercial. The question was how do we raise awareness about this project and how do we raise money to purchase more boxes.
My two ideas:
1. Ask the local fire fighting high school if they are interested in a service project. If so, perhaps we can get these kids on board to help us raise money for this program. In fact, I was heading to meet with the head of that department an hour after the meeting was ending and I would be happy to discuss it with him (after we finished the meeting with him regarding Buckaroo that I was initially going to see him for).
2. (Actually, this one was originally my realtor pal, Sally's idea with a few modifications). Because we are already affixing a sticker to the back of these things anyway for no discernible reason (I asked), why not ask agents if they want to sponsor a box. We can charge an agent $10 per box and put a sticker on the back saying, Courtesy of Mary Jones, ABC Realty, 480-999-9999. Additionally, because it is this committee that provides the Web content to the fire departments and municipalities about this program, could we not give a nod to those agents who sponsored this? "Lock boxes courtesy of Mary Jones, ABC Realty, 480-999-9999, etc." It would go on each city's Web site and provide advertising for these agents. I am pleased to say a few other Committee members thought this was a great idea. Muffy only said, "It won't work" and refused to discuss it further.
Muffy nixed both of my ideas but gave no reason whatsoever why they couldn't happen. But she assured me they couldn't. End of discussion. In fact, when another member of the committee wanted to revisit my sponsor a box idea, she said, "We just discussed this. It won't work." But there was no discussion. It was just me throwing out an idea.
Muffy's Minion's idea: And I swear I am not making this up. Make a video. Don't use actual fire fighters (or even get the local fire fighter public affairs offices involved at all) or a "real" elderly person (their words). Instead, two agents from our committee would portray a fire fighter and an elderly person. The viewer would not see the faces of these people. Instead it would be "incognito" as if they were informants on tonight's six o'clock news and need to remain anonymous to protect themselves. They would then have a conversation about the importance of a key box. All the viewer would see is a dark screen.
This video would then be put exclusively on the realtor association's Facebook page for any agent to click on. When I told this to Sally, she said, "There's a Facebook page for the realtor association?!" That was my reaction too. Wait, there's more! The Committee would then be shown said video at the next meeting and we could vote on whether or not to use it going forward.
Because I have decided not to go the the next meeting, I won't be voting. Perhaps I will swing by the association's Facebook page and show it to you two if I get around to seeing it.
Incidentally, without Muffy's blessing, I gave a flyer to Buckaroo's teacher and discussed the program with him. I suggested eliminating the middleman and just going directly to his contacts in the fire departments. The fire departments seem to have their act together more than this committee.
As I write this, I am seeing my true issue is I was hoping to be in a place where I made a difference. Even if my ideas aren't good, that's fine. But it seems Muffy and her minions are finding job security in this (unpaid) committee by keeping it alive with busy work.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Muffed part 1
It took 51 years, but today I can honestly say I may, possibly, maybe mastered self-control. Possibly. The lucky recipient of today's monumental display of self-discipline was Muffy, the Chair of today's Community Outreach Committee. However, if I had throat punched her, a jury of my true peers would have completely understood.
Needless to say, I am not long for this committee. In fact, I am begging off from an event next month. Additionally, I am making myself unavailable for the next two meetings. Why? Because.
Please understand, this is not about hurt feelings or ego. It is about stupid ideas and the lack of logic when my reasonable ideas were ignored without any explanation other than, "it won't work." Which is what I heard. A lot.
There were two primary agenda items that pushed me to the brink.
Issue 1: The ongoing letter writing campaign for our overseas soldiers has hit a roadblock. The last association-wide get-together was from 5 to 7 p.m. on a Thursday and had zero participants other than the committee members. We have another letter writing day scheduled for October, but the goal is to be able to send out letters every quarter to our servicemen and women. The question on the table was how were we (the Community Outreach Committee) going to keep this campaign going and keep it top of mind to our fellow agents?
My suggestion: Why not set up a basket in the realtor association's classrooms with provided stationary (which we have) and a quick blurb about what we are trying to accomplish. There could be a second basket where completed letters could be placed. With three classes per day, and each classroom holding about 100 people, perhaps folks would take a moment to fill out a letter once in a while. We could place the basket next to the bottled water and perhaps ask the instructors to mention this to the students at the beginning of each class. If baskets were a problem, how about boxes? I would be willing to spring for WHATEVER DEVICE NECESSARY to hold said stationary and completed letters. Even if we got a 1 percent response that would be 90 people a week.
Muffy said no. It was too, "labor-intensive" to have baskets in the classrooms in the same building where the committee meets monthly and our paid liaison's office happens to be. She refused to open the idea up for discussion in the committee, only saying we needed to move on to a more "realistic" idea.
Muffy's Suggestion (I am not making this up): There is a blood drive next week. There are 40 spots in the blood drive. While these 40 people would be stuck, with needles in their arms, committee members would hand them a pen and stationary and order them to write a letter. They would then figure out another way to "catch" people and have them write letters in the next meeting.
This blog will be too long if I go into the other stupidity I dealt with, so that will be tomorrow's post.
Needless to say, I am not long for this committee. In fact, I am begging off from an event next month. Additionally, I am making myself unavailable for the next two meetings. Why? Because.
Please understand, this is not about hurt feelings or ego. It is about stupid ideas and the lack of logic when my reasonable ideas were ignored without any explanation other than, "it won't work." Which is what I heard. A lot.
There were two primary agenda items that pushed me to the brink.
Issue 1: The ongoing letter writing campaign for our overseas soldiers has hit a roadblock. The last association-wide get-together was from 5 to 7 p.m. on a Thursday and had zero participants other than the committee members. We have another letter writing day scheduled for October, but the goal is to be able to send out letters every quarter to our servicemen and women. The question on the table was how were we (the Community Outreach Committee) going to keep this campaign going and keep it top of mind to our fellow agents?
My suggestion: Why not set up a basket in the realtor association's classrooms with provided stationary (which we have) and a quick blurb about what we are trying to accomplish. There could be a second basket where completed letters could be placed. With three classes per day, and each classroom holding about 100 people, perhaps folks would take a moment to fill out a letter once in a while. We could place the basket next to the bottled water and perhaps ask the instructors to mention this to the students at the beginning of each class. If baskets were a problem, how about boxes? I would be willing to spring for WHATEVER DEVICE NECESSARY to hold said stationary and completed letters. Even if we got a 1 percent response that would be 90 people a week.
Muffy said no. It was too, "labor-intensive" to have baskets in the classrooms in the same building where the committee meets monthly and our paid liaison's office happens to be. She refused to open the idea up for discussion in the committee, only saying we needed to move on to a more "realistic" idea.
Muffy's Suggestion (I am not making this up): There is a blood drive next week. There are 40 spots in the blood drive. While these 40 people would be stuck, with needles in their arms, committee members would hand them a pen and stationary and order them to write a letter. They would then figure out another way to "catch" people and have them write letters in the next meeting.
This blog will be too long if I go into the other stupidity I dealt with, so that will be tomorrow's post.
Sunday, April 14, 2019
That Would Be a Big NO
Ari's house is in escrow. The appraisal was last week. And what do you know! Ari is buying this house at $17,000 under the appraised value. AND this is with it being slightly distressed. The lender asked me if he should tell the selling agent.
"NO!" I said.
It was hard enough to get Ari to be willing to pay this much for a house and for the selling side to be willing to sell this house for this low price. The agent kept saying, "I think we can get more for it. I knew he could. I am glad he went with Ari.
Incidentally, I am totally shocked at the appraised price for this home in the 85007 zip code.
"NO!" I said.
It was hard enough to get Ari to be willing to pay this much for a house and for the selling side to be willing to sell this house for this low price. The agent kept saying, "I think we can get more for it. I knew he could. I am glad he went with Ari.
Incidentally, I am totally shocked at the appraised price for this home in the 85007 zip code.
Saturday, April 13, 2019
The Member Appreciation Picnic
Last night, I dragged Jane to the local association's member appreciation picnic. From what I can tell, members from the West Virginia side of the association weren't invited. I was there because I am part of the (rolls eyes) Community Outreach Committee and guess which committee was delegated to handle business?
Originally I had invited Polly, Marty and Buck to come. I had also heard my realtor pal Sally was coming with her grand kids. Plus, Mrs. Hufflepuff was thinking about showing up. In the end, the only ones I recognized at the picnic were Jane and Muffy, the Committee Chair of the (rolls eyes) Community Outreach Committee. She looked at me, puzzled--as if she knew me from somewhere but not exactly sure where--when I said hello to her.
The "picnic" consisted of a few wine and beer stations, a grill, a bouncy house and several vendors giving away free pens or beer cozies. I did find a lender who was passing out bottles of water and that was nice. Jane found the animal rescue booth (how are dogs and real estate related?). Actually she found ALL of the animal rescue booths. I think there were four of them. I found the firemen and the fire truck, and was able to chat with them about Buck's career path. The other major activity seemed to be siblings needling siblings because they were bored of the bouncy house.
So honestly, unless you were under the age of 7, there really wasn't much to do.
Halfway through the picnic, I went to take my shift with the two other (rolls eyes) Community Outreach Committee members. We were to man the registration booth, Our collective jobs included putting different colored wristbands on the kids and adults. We were to give the grownups adult beverage tickets so they could imbibe. We were also to steer them towards the Critical Needs donation box and ask for member assistance.
As I am sure you will be shocked to read, nobody else from the committee bothered to show up for their shift. Muffy couldn't even be bothered to come by and say hello. I am debating if I am going to make it a year with these bozos.
Jane was a peach. Or perhaps she was bored. Either way, she was a lifesaver. She sat with me and put wristbands on the littles so they could go into the bouncy house (why? I imaging a bouncy house operator would figure out they were the right age to go in). Every so often, she would sneak away and go find the rescue dogs, but that was a small price to pay for her gracious assistance.
I hit every one up--coming or going--for a Critical Needs donation. I am not sorry. When we finally closed up the registration table for the night, the donation box was full and some families will be blessed by the generosity of others. And that was truly the best part of the entire picnic.
Originally I had invited Polly, Marty and Buck to come. I had also heard my realtor pal Sally was coming with her grand kids. Plus, Mrs. Hufflepuff was thinking about showing up. In the end, the only ones I recognized at the picnic were Jane and Muffy, the Committee Chair of the (rolls eyes) Community Outreach Committee. She looked at me, puzzled--as if she knew me from somewhere but not exactly sure where--when I said hello to her.
The "picnic" consisted of a few wine and beer stations, a grill, a bouncy house and several vendors giving away free pens or beer cozies. I did find a lender who was passing out bottles of water and that was nice. Jane found the animal rescue booth (how are dogs and real estate related?). Actually she found ALL of the animal rescue booths. I think there were four of them. I found the firemen and the fire truck, and was able to chat with them about Buck's career path. The other major activity seemed to be siblings needling siblings because they were bored of the bouncy house.
So honestly, unless you were under the age of 7, there really wasn't much to do.
Halfway through the picnic, I went to take my shift with the two other (rolls eyes) Community Outreach Committee members. We were to man the registration booth, Our collective jobs included putting different colored wristbands on the kids and adults. We were to give the grownups adult beverage tickets so they could imbibe. We were also to steer them towards the Critical Needs donation box and ask for member assistance.
As I am sure you will be shocked to read, nobody else from the committee bothered to show up for their shift. Muffy couldn't even be bothered to come by and say hello. I am debating if I am going to make it a year with these bozos.
Jane was a peach. Or perhaps she was bored. Either way, she was a lifesaver. She sat with me and put wristbands on the littles so they could go into the bouncy house (why? I imaging a bouncy house operator would figure out they were the right age to go in). Every so often, she would sneak away and go find the rescue dogs, but that was a small price to pay for her gracious assistance.
I hit every one up--coming or going--for a Critical Needs donation. I am not sorry. When we finally closed up the registration table for the night, the donation box was full and some families will be blessed by the generosity of others. And that was truly the best part of the entire picnic.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Birthday Weekend
In my defense, Bliz came into town last Friday.
It was a girl's weekend--there were four of us at a hotel in Scottsdale. There was a lot of laughing. A lot. And a baseball game with a dramatic walk-off win. There was wine for breakfast one day and enchiladas for breakfast another morning.
On Sunday, there was a road trip to some remote town in Southeastern Arizona, where I got to talk baseball with Bliz's dad. We also picked up matching Damnit Dolls (Bliz's doll is blue). We almost met up with my fifth grade teacher who retired somewhere in Cochise County--but alas! And Bliz had some of the best chicken fried steak in the world, which sadly wasn't at Rick's Cook Your Own Steak.
There was the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame--which is in the back side of the Rex Allen Museum. The Rex Allen Museum costs $2, but the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame is free, so if you want to see the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame, please avert your eyes at all the Rex Allen paraphernalia you will pass as you get to the back room. There was also a Cochise County Museum in downtown, where I could have spent a couple more hours absorbing everything. I need to go back.
And so much, much more. It truly was my very best birthday ever. Jane told me after looking at the evidence on Facebook that she had never seen me so relaxed. And Jane has known me since I was six.
It has taken me me two days to recover from my girl's weekend. And I guarantee though there were adventures, there were no adventures in real estate.
It was a girl's weekend--there were four of us at a hotel in Scottsdale. There was a lot of laughing. A lot. And a baseball game with a dramatic walk-off win. There was wine for breakfast one day and enchiladas for breakfast another morning.
My little brother might have transported all of us to a biker bar in a questionable neighborhood in East Phoenix one night in his 2007 minivan. The other day Bliz and I went there we drove and I met Kal, who swapped "best obscure restaurant in Arizona stories" with me (Me: any pie at Bear Wallow Cafe in Alpine, Kal: Rick's Cook Your Own Steak in Wilcox).
Bliz's brother happens to own the biker bar. The food is great, by the way. The punk rock bands this past Saturday night, not so much. But if you go when Harry Luge's non-punk rock band is playing, you are in for a treat. Too bad he wasn't there this weekend.
On Sunday, there was a road trip to some remote town in Southeastern Arizona, where I got to talk baseball with Bliz's dad. We also picked up matching Damnit Dolls (Bliz's doll is blue). We almost met up with my fifth grade teacher who retired somewhere in Cochise County--but alas! And Bliz had some of the best chicken fried steak in the world, which sadly wasn't at Rick's Cook Your Own Steak. 
There was the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame--which is in the back side of the Rex Allen Museum. The Rex Allen Museum costs $2, but the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame is free, so if you want to see the Arizona Cowboy Hall of Fame, please avert your eyes at all the Rex Allen paraphernalia you will pass as you get to the back room. There was also a Cochise County Museum in downtown, where I could have spent a couple more hours absorbing everything. I need to go back.And so much, much more. It truly was my very best birthday ever. Jane told me after looking at the evidence on Facebook that she had never seen me so relaxed. And Jane has known me since I was six.
It has taken me me two days to recover from my girl's weekend. And I guarantee though there were adventures, there were no adventures in real estate.
Monday, April 1, 2019
Denise's Future Plans
Last week, while talking with Denise, she told me she was unhappy with her brokerage. After stopping to consider my words for about 30 seconds, I said, "Do you want to hang your license with me?"
It is true, I don't necessarily want to take on other agents. But, I would make an exception for a few seasoned folks who know what they are doing and turn their paperwork in correctly and on time. Denise is one of the few.
However, Denise dropped this bombshell on me and all bets were off. "I am currently doing property management."
My little brokerage does not handle property management for a myriad of reasons. However, the two big reasons are, first I don't have a broker's trust account--a requirement from the State for property management. I am not sure the Department of Real Estate would let me have one, given I just went through a horrific bankruptcy that included rental properties.
Second, even if I were able to have a trust account and wanted to pay someone to handle the accounting of the trust account I have no desire to ever do property management again. Been there, done that and now I'm trying to recapture lost bits of my soul. Thank you very much.
There are other reasons too. Though Denise would ultimately be in charge of her clients as the broker, I am still the buck-stops-here person in charge. I don't want to chase down rents. I don't want to deal with move-ins and move-outs. I don't want to deal with the legalities involved with tenants who don't pay or move out in the middle of the night and leave all their stuff behind. There are a million other things that are coming to mind as well as to why I don't want to do property management. If you are curious, hit me up, I can give you years of reading.
Denise understood. Property management isn't for everyone. She has a secondary plan though. She started broker school and is going to open her own brokerage. That's awesome! She will be great at it.
Broker school takes a lot of time and energy. I did offer to help her out while she is living, breathing and eating this education. If she needs a home opened up for a buyer, an errand or some other real estate task, just call me. I didn't have that kind of support from El Jefe when I went through my classes and I wished I did.
It is true, I don't necessarily want to take on other agents. But, I would make an exception for a few seasoned folks who know what they are doing and turn their paperwork in correctly and on time. Denise is one of the few.
However, Denise dropped this bombshell on me and all bets were off. "I am currently doing property management."
My little brokerage does not handle property management for a myriad of reasons. However, the two big reasons are, first I don't have a broker's trust account--a requirement from the State for property management. I am not sure the Department of Real Estate would let me have one, given I just went through a horrific bankruptcy that included rental properties.
Second, even if I were able to have a trust account and wanted to pay someone to handle the accounting of the trust account I have no desire to ever do property management again. Been there, done that and now I'm trying to recapture lost bits of my soul. Thank you very much.
There are other reasons too. Though Denise would ultimately be in charge of her clients as the broker, I am still the buck-stops-here person in charge. I don't want to chase down rents. I don't want to deal with move-ins and move-outs. I don't want to deal with the legalities involved with tenants who don't pay or move out in the middle of the night and leave all their stuff behind. There are a million other things that are coming to mind as well as to why I don't want to do property management. If you are curious, hit me up, I can give you years of reading.
Denise understood. Property management isn't for everyone. She has a secondary plan though. She started broker school and is going to open her own brokerage. That's awesome! She will be great at it.
Broker school takes a lot of time and energy. I did offer to help her out while she is living, breathing and eating this education. If she needs a home opened up for a buyer, an errand or some other real estate task, just call me. I didn't have that kind of support from El Jefe when I went through my classes and I wished I did.
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