The Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice

I have these clients who are buying a home. For reasons too long to go into for this patch of cyber space, they used a specific lender requested by the seller. I don't know this company. My clients don't know this company. But it was in my clients' best interest to work with this lender.

Last week, there were approximately 3 zillion back and forth e-mails with the loan officer. I know this because I was copied on all of them. Each e-mail from my normally reasonable and pleasant clients were more terse than the last, with the loan officer back-pedaling and making assurances that frankly, if she had done her job the first time, wouldn't have needed to be made. 

I jumped in at one point and asked if the process was going as promised, because there are some hard deadlines that cannot be messed with. I was given the same veiled, "I don't see a problem," from the loan officer. However, the back and forth continued and it became clear my folks were on their last nerve. 

Finally, I called the loan officer's boss and left a voice mail. I used my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice on the voice mail, bandying around words such as, "disappointment," and "uncomfortable" and "accountability." I ended my message to her with an, "I look forward to hearing from you and finding out what solutions you have so my clients can determine whether or not to move forward with your company," which was only a half-bluff, because I was already making phone calls to some of the rock star loan officers I know and seeing if they would match the terms and conditions my clients were promised by this company. 

In truth, I hate confrontation. Frankly, I am really bad at it too. I totally rock passive-aggressive, which unfortunately this situation did not call for. Having to call someone's boss and get things straightened out is really out of my comfort zone. However, sometimes it is necessary. I don't care if my clients are spending $1.00 or $10,000,00.00 it is their money and it is my job to make sure they are protected. And sometimes that means confrontation--even if it gives me nightmares for weeks afterwards. 

The Loan Officer's Boss, by the way, did call me back. She acknowledged there was some missteps and explained to me what was going on. That is all well and good. I speak the language. I understand what got everyone to the point we are in now. My clients don't understand and it doesn't change the fact they are pissed off and they aren't pissed off kind of people. 

"What do you plan to do to make this a smooth transaction moving forward?" I asked the boss. Because, why use my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice if I am not going to challenge her to right the issue? To her credit, she took charge and fixed the situation. She called my clients, apologized and said there shouldn't be more problems moving forward. 

Sometimes all people want is an apology to make things better. An, "I'm sorry," can save the relationship when nothing else can at times. There is nothing the loan officer boss could do to fix the past, but I think she put the future in the right direction. Would this have happened if I hadn't called her? I don't know. But I would like to think maybe my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice had something to do with it. 

Myth Vs Reality

The Burrito Was Gone
By the Second Break. 

So I was asked to take a class on prelicensing by Beth, the real estate school's owner and essentially my boss. The six hour class was held at the Arizona Department of Real Estate. And I have to tell you, I was stoked! Not only was this the first class I ever took at the Department, but teaching real estate has been on my bucket list and now, not only can I teach but after this class, I would be able to teach the unknowing public how to be rock star real estate professionals. So, this class was like winning the instructor lottery!

Now then, for the last 16+ years, when I have taken a 6 hour class for real estate, it comes with lunch, or a menu where I can pre-purchase lunch. The students all dress in jeans or something casual, while the instructor dresses up. Materials are generally provided and we have an idea what we are in for.

So, here I was, going down to the ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF REAL ESTATE and I was in full-nerd mode. I dressed up, because after all, I was an instructor and this was instructor training. Because it is required to be on time for these classes, I left twenty minutes earlier than I probably needed to. It was raining. So I rummaged through until I found the only existing umbrella in Mesa, AZ. I also packed a protein bar--just in case lunch was lobster. And then, I drove in rush hour, in the rain, on my merry way for a delightful day of instructor preliscensing joy!

I arrived early enough, but found out my car was not welcome anywhere close--did I mention it was raining? I ended up muddling my way through downtown Phoenix, bladder full, looking for somewhere I didn't have to walk too far. I am not making this up when I say Dee and her Merry Band of Felons live directly three blocks North of where I was. I thought about parking at her house, and perhaps one of her Felons could escort me through the scary neighborhood, but I didn't want to be late. After all, THIS WAS INSTRUCTOR TRAINING AT THE ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF REAL ESTATE!

28 Pages and 6 Hours of This

After the medal detector (which went off and I got a "go through, you look safe,") and a bathroom, I found my class. The seven other folks were dressed in jeans and were playing on their phones. Lance, the class monitor said, "Good morning. If you need the bathrooms they are out the door. We will only take two 10 minute breaks. For lunch, there's a vending machine downstairs. And then we will leave a little bit after 2."

Instructor training consisted of sitting through a video of a bunch of folks being trained last year. Six hours of this. The person running the camera was a mouth breather and it sounded like six hours of training with an obscene phone call as an audio underlayment. Somewhere in the video the audience had a quasi-lively debate of whether the Dodgers or the Red Sox would win the 2018 World Series. They were obviously having a better time than those of us yesterday.  There was no new material introduced. It was "When you teach prelicenseing, make sure to touch on these points." And there were--and I am not making this up--28 pages of "points." And yes, four people tag-teamed the reading of the 28 pages of points to cover when teaching prelicensing.

Our second 10 minute break turned out to be the Real Estate Commissioner dropping into the conference room for a quick hello, that lasted about 25 minutes. It was informative, and one doesn't excuse themselves for the potty or for the last burrito in the vending machine when Madame Real Estate Commissioner comes in to chat. As soon as she left, the video started up again and I opted to deal with the consequences of me being out of my seat as I ran out of the room to answer nature's call. Lance, however, took one look at my face and decided he could let this one minor transgression go.

We ended at 3, with me now in possession of a fancy certificate saying I can teach prelisensing. As soon as I was out the door, I hangrily texted Bonus Dad and told him I was on my way! We had a nice dinner at Pei Wei in Central Phoenix, which made me forget all about the craziness of the past few hours.

Double Shucks

The most significant event at this week's Community Outreach meeting was that they voted not to have a December meeting.

Life just keeps getting better and better.

Well, Shucks

Ms. Rabbit

Today is the Community Outreach Meeting. Unfortunately, I managed to get a last minute doctor's appointment for the exact time as the meeting. What are the odds I could call the doctor yesterday and insist they find an opening for exactly 9 a.m. today?

Fate!

Fate I tell you!

I am sure I can find a creative way to miss next month's meeting too, so I am unofficially done with this bunch of yahoos. If this means I can't teach at the Association in the future, I will just have to figure it out. But as my favorite coffee/tea-date friend said on Sunday, "Life is too short for toxicity."* She has always been right and there is no reason to doubt her wisdom now.

For as excited as I was to make a difference with this committee, it has been a total letdown. I think the mission is wonderful. On the plus side, I got a lot of fodder for stories and life experiences I can use.

One last note, I mentioned a few months ago they had a grant they had to use for the common good. I had thrown out there perhaps using it to shade a few playgrounds. However, the woman in the meeting who looked like Jessica Rabbit (Butch never looked at her face the entire time, but he was smiling!) said that some random intersection was ugly and they could use the grant money for a few art pieces to make it beautiful. Butch was totally on board with that, and without a vote, the suggestion passed.

I missed last month's meeting and took a moment to read the minutes. Apparently last month Ms. Rabbit came up with an even better idea. She suggested they find a way to shade a playground and what do you know!? The committee voted and passed the idea unanimously! Awesome!



*I may be paraphrasing, but you get the point.

Coded

After 18 months, I finally took my last classroom GRI class today. I have an independent study I still have to do (I am given 14 days to complete it, so I haven't started just yet). Today's class was 6 hours of the Realtor Code of Ethics, which ironically, was similar material to last week's Grievance Committee training. Except in this class, my Realtor pal, Sally, sat next to me and we passed notes all day. That made it more fun. However, there is only so much Code of Ethics one can absorb in a month. It isn't like the material changed from five days ago. 

I am Coded out. 

Awe!!!! 

When I arrived home, my family greeted me with a fancy hat and a card. I could probably finagle a dinner out of it too, but I think I will wait until my independent study is completed. 

There are lots of doodles in today's book. 

By the way, GRI stands for Graduate, of the Realtor Institute. It is a hard-core and intensive program. We have five years to complete the program. I finished the classroom portion in 18 months. It isn't because I am an over-achiever. I just wanted to get this off my plate as soon as I could. 

Incidentally, less than 5 percent of all real estate agents get the GRI designation. It is pretty special. I don't have it yet, but I am super close. 

The Room of Requirement

It was a bittersweet kind of day. I finally cleaned out the room of requirement. Before it was the room of requirement (aka "junk room") it was the toy room. Before that it was the homeschool room. And long before that, it was the future bedroom for for another child or two down the road before I found out that just wasn't going to be a possibility.

The room of requirement held everything that didn't seem to have another place to live. Everything from the CD bookcase to the vacuum resided in there. Plus, all of the Legos, K'Nex, costumes, DVDs, extra electronic equipment and a a boat load of art supplies. No really, think over-the-ocean freighter ship, kind of boat load. Essentially, it is the room everything went to when we had a quick company-is-coming clean. Over the years, the room turned into a hoarder's best dream.

When we were looking to move to Florida, I knew I would have to tackle that room and I wasn't looking forward to it. After all, we couldn't exactly tell a potential buyer, "Look! The chin-up bar and the 16 white boards come with the home with a full price offer." (Or could we??) As it turned out, it was a huge relief when Marty turned down the job, just so I didn't have to deal with cleaning out this room.

Today, I mustered up the courage, grabbed a few boxes and Polly and I cleaned out the room. Ollie's dog bed was donated. The broken music stand was thrown away. The Nerf darts were collected and given back to Buckaroo, who still has Nerf wars with various friends. And all the art supplies were placed on the kitchen table, all the chairs, floor and counters while Polly and I argued lively discussed how many sketch pads does she really need.

"I need as many sketch pads as you need jigsaw puzzles," was her answer. Touche'.

Incidentally, I donated a few jig saw puzzles.

We kept the Legos and K'Nex. They are now neatly placed in the closet, waiting for my nephew and a few of the other kids who sometimes come over.

A good portion of the art supplies, construction paper, markers, crayons, paint brushes, paint, colored pencils, glue sticks, fabric paint, more construction paper, party decorations, beads, costumes and more (much, much more) were put into a giant box and brought across the street to the new neighbors who have four children under the age of six. It made me smile to think these kiddos could get some leverage out of these things that gave my children so much joy.

No Thank You

While the mandatory training was going on at the association, at the same time the Community Outreach Committee was holding a shred-a-thon, where folks could bring valuable but old documents to the assocation and they were shredded. Because I had this schedule conflict, I did not sign up to help with the shred-a-thon.

However, at one of the breaks I walked out to check on how things were going and say hello. One of the committee members approached me. I smiled and said hello. And what do you know? He--a member from the SAME committee I am on!--thrusted a basket in front of me and asked me for a donation for the critical needs fund.

When I blankly looked at him with a confused, "Wait! You don't recognize me? We are on the SAME committee," look, he mistook it as I didn't know what the critical needs fund was, so he started explaining. Then, ANOTHER member of this SAME committee joined in, because she though OUR committee member was tanking with his pitch and I clearly didn't understand.

I just replied with a, "no thank you," and walked back in.

Mandatory Training

Because I volunteer on the Grievance Committee, I am required to take a professional standards training course once a year. I took one in February. The Association offered the 2020 training course yesterday, so I was there. If you look at a calendar and are confused, don't worry, it isn't you. Next year's course was offered in 2019--as was the 2019 course. Incidentally, it was taught by some nationally recognized instructor who flew in from New Jersey. She told the same jokes and gave the same examples last February too.

Mock Grand Inquisitor Squad at our Working Lunch

Because I am just a peon, I didn't have to sit through two days of this training (booyah!). Kaye did because she has some higher ranking than peon. As much as I like the Grievance Committee and what we do, there is a lot of motivation never to hold a spot above Peon just so I can miss the second day of this once a year-ish training.

What I found the most interesting was the folks in the class. Apparently only Type-A's volunteer for the grievance/Grand Inquisitor positions. Most of us are in positions of leadership in our brokerages and with 16+ years under my belt, I was one of the newer agents. I'm not exaggerating about the Type-A thing either, we, the audience, had a bit of a mutiny and took a vote for a 10 minute lunch so that we could get out early.

The class was informative (the first time) and mandatory (both times). It was a nice refresher of what is required filing an ethics complaint, starting with the procedural process of filing a grievance through the Grand Inquisitor Squad hearing and resolution. In fact, we had a mock Grand Inquisitor Squad tribunal with Mr. Barney Rubble claiming his agent broke the code of ethics requirements. Kaye was one of the Inquisitor Squad panel members. And because this was the afternoon after a long day, most of the folks up there weren't exactly able to stay on the script, which made things a little more lively. However, I am told by one of the members of the actual Squad, the complainants and respondents can make the actual hearing pretty lively, so it was good practice.

Squee!

I am kind of giddy about this. Ok, I am totally giddy about this.

Beth just submitted my paperwork to the Department of Real Estate for me to be approved to teach my first class: Contract Writing! Booyah!

Freedom

Squee!

I didn't expect to feel wonderful about firing Landon and Dawn. But I do. There's a lot of freedom that comes from choosing. I chose to let them go and move on to better.

No regrets.

Turns Out My Dignity is Worth An Awful Lot

So my realtor pal, Sally called me. She had a dilima and asked my opinion.

Once we got through her story, she then asked how I was doing. At the time, I was reviewing Dawn and Landon's comps, wondering if they would even believe me if I showed them how much their home was worth. There are other properties nearby that sold for much more, but they are much, much nicer. I knew when I broke the news, they wouldn't belive me and probably fire me or keep me on and let the chips fall where they may. But no matter, they wouldn't believe me and they would act like asses about it. I told Sally as much.

The more I talked about it, the more I realized there was no good ending if I went forward with these yahoos. We aren't dependent upon my income. I don't need them as my clients. Plus, how much is my dignity worth?

As soon as I got off the phone, I wrote the following letter.

Dear Landon and Dawn,

It has become increasingly clear that our goals are not mutual. In order to best be of service, I am respectfully stepping back as your agent so that you can find someone who can better serve your needs. Per the Real Estate Agency and Election Agreement you signed, all that you have told me is confidential for perpetuity, but the rest of my duties are hereby terminated.

As you have entrusted me with your keys, I have removed them and my lockbox from your property and am sending them back to you so that you can effectively determine your best course of action.

Thank you for allowing me this opportunity. 

Chosing Clients

I am currently working on one sale and discerning whether or not to take Dawn and Landon's listing. The one I am working on is strange, but fun. There are no guarantees and nothing has moved in a direction I expected. However, the people are great. That makes a difference.

My other current clients, Dawn and Landon, aren't that great to work with. They are frustrated. They had tenants scoot out in the middle of the night and are left, 3000 miles from their home, with costly issues. They are scared. They are uncertain. And mostly they are extremely unpleasant. 

It is reasonable to be distrusting, especially given their poor decisions in the past have gotten them to where they are now. It is not reasonable to have your only credible (I am not "credible") sources be the Internet and reality television shows. Raw data doesn't count--especially when it comes from any source I give Dawn. I don't even mind being countered at every turn, as much as I mind the nasty vitriol that comes with her disagreeing with my position.

Jane was with me last week when I had Dawn on speaker phone. Jane's eyebrows shot up at the way this woman acted. Agree with me. Don't agree with me. I don't care. But hell! Don't be a certifiable snot about it! 

Originally, when we first talked last summer, Dawn said, "I have to tell you, the last few experiences I have had with a realtor have been horrible." At that point, the little voice in my head said, "run." I haven't run (yet) because this client has ties to my extended family members. Dawn will be punitive if I fire her. It will get political within my family. I am aware. Nobody will agree with me (after all, I am just being pissy and I NEVER have a legitimate complaint because it is my family.).  

Part of me would like to keep this client because if I could get her under control, it would be a nice chunk of change to end off the year. However, I question whether I can really keep an uber-snide seller with interpersonal relationship gaps "under control." How much is my dignity worth? 

Last week I texted Dawn and asked for her address. What I didn't tell her was the reason I wanted her address is that if I choose to fire her, I am going to take my vendor box off her house and mail back her keys. I will make a decision soon as to what I want to do. 

Rethinking This One

I have a client who is making me crazy. Every time she asks for advice, I provide it. And then she argues that I am wrong. Plus, she doesn't quit until I give in. I don't think she means to be arguing, but yea, she is. Example:

Client: Do think I should remove the shelves in the office.

Me: Yes, it makes the room look small. Plus, you have termites in this room. And you need to replace the flooring in there anyway, so they will have to be moved out for this to be done. Additionally, the painter will need to remove them when the walls are painted.

Client: I like the shelves. We put them in. They are useful. Plus, the handyman said they look good.

Me: If you want to keep them there, that's fine. It is your call.

Client: I don't want to remove them. Do you think I should?

This bit of swirling dialog went on too long until I finally just agreed, yep, keep the termite infested shelves in there and pay a carpet installer to move them out of the way when they replace the flooring and have the painter paint around them.

When this looks like garbage, who will she blame? Plus, she isn't really all that nice about it. Her counter comments come with phrases such as, "I would think someone in YOUR position would know better than to take shelves out..." Other such barbs are often and never masked by her. Yep, she's a bitch.

She asks me for advice on everything related to her home. However, every consideration from me is wrong, because her experts are fix and flip shows and her cousin's best friend's brother-in-law. What's worse, is I am seeing every decision she can make as a bad one. Today, while at her house (she is 3,000 miles away) I commented that the ceiling fans are old and rickety. She said they are "industrial grade and we put them in when we bought the house 20 years ago," and therefore I don't know what I am talking about.

To be fair, I am on the verge of firing her. Because I am not feeling well, I have opted to wait until next week to make this determination. I need more space between this latest bit of lunacy and when I talk to her again. But I happen to know not all clients are created equal. And if she is this much work in the honeymoon phase, I doubt it will get better.

Recuperating

What's that line? No battle plan outlives the enemy?

This week I have had four (FOUR!) classes to take and one grievance committee meeting on my plate. There is also coffee with a friend, and another friend. And let's not forget a few other mom-type duties.

But nope. The allergies I had been touting for a week were really not allergies but some sort of yuckiness running through my system. And finally I sat down long enough and my body took over. I haven't moved since. Everything since Saturday has been cancelled. I haven't even read the grievance complaints, but I will--even if I won't be at the meeting.

I am still optimistic about the Thursday, Friday and Saturday classes. I already cancelled tomorrow's class. I am not sure Thursday and Friday class are refundable anyway. Saturday's class is with my new employer, so I need to show up. Plus, I have a coffee date rescheduled for this weekend. It is a must.

Experience tells me I am on the mend. Polly is taking over some of the taxi duties. Nobody is starving. The dog and cat are fighting over who get to sleep on top of me. They aren't convinced the answer should be "neither."  I have read a book and watched a crap-ton of Hallmark movies. Plus, I have slept. Glorious sleep.

I am hoping only one more day of this nonsense. I am way too bored to do this long term.