Realtor Kids

Painting Open House Signs Last Year

I have two kids who have been in the real estate business--involuntarily--for their entire lives. As Realtor kids, my children don't walk on other people's grass. They wipe their feet before they enter. They know during a showing not to make a disparaging comment about even the most ghastly house--because you never know who may like it. They don't talk about the safety of the neighborhood even if they see a drug bust going down right next door.

Polly and Buckaroo have done their fair share of helping me fold flyers, entertain client's children and all sorts of other tasks. Because Buckaroo is more interested and he has more time, he gets the brunt of the work. Even El Jefe has hired him out. This past week I dragged him to Jane's new listing where he, Jane's daughter, Jane and I moved furniture and staged the home in time for the photographer to show up and do his magic.

Buckaroo has also been known to put out flyers for my open houses. When he was younger, I could recruit him and a few friends who would go through the neighborhood on their scooters, passing out pamphlets for Saturday's open house. Their price: ice cream sundaes.

One time I brought Buckaroo with me because my clients had a precocious six year old who would never let his parents have a moment of peace when they were looking at properties. Let's face it, when one is looking to spend a quarter of a million dollars on a home it might be a good idea to be able to think in peace. So, in exchange for two decks of Pokemon cards (he insisted he earned TWO decks) and lunch with Mom (Olive Garden), Buckaroo donned a collared shirt and walked up to my clients, a smile on his face and with an extended hand and said, "Hello Mr. Miller, My name is Buckaroo. May I play with Tony in the park right over there?" And then he pointed to the park, within view. Mr. and Mrs. Miller exchanged glances, that suggested perhaps Buckaroo's politeness might possibly rub off on Tony and then bid them both farewell. (Note, it did not rub off on that kid. Unfortunately).

When Polly was about three, I took her with me for a friend's showing (with the permission of the parents). They had a daughter Polly's age and the two girls were good friends. Polly and I arrived early, turned on the lights and previewed the house. When my clients arrived Polly ran right over to Katie and grabbed her hand. Dragging her through the driveway ("Don't walk on the grass Katie. It isn't your house.") Polly said, "Do you like pink? There is a pink bedroom." And then stopping at the front door, she ordered, "Wipe your feet." Once inside, both girls raced to the back of the house where Polly proudly showed off the pink bedroom.

Buckaroo has told me he thinks being a firefighter would be really cool, and on his off days, he could sell houses. The firefighter income pays the bills. The real estate income is for investing. Polly has made it abundantly clear she will never, ever, EVER sell homes. (Never say Never Polly!). When I asked her why she wouldn't consider joining the family business she said, "I don't think I want to deal with the crazies." Well, there is that.

Letting Go

I am writing this after 5 p.m. on Wednesday. I am predicting now Ari's sale will fall out of escrow in the next few hours, through no fault of Ari's. Ari and I have talked this afternoon. I have spoken to the loan officer. Now I am waiting with ample frustration for the notice to let this go. Because it is coming.

It is only a few hours after Inga and Liam decided--once again--not to sell their home. I was so devastated by that loss, that I merrily called my 81 year old father and asked him to drive right over to their home and remove my sign so I can order the post down. To be fair, Dad lives about 5 miles away from Inga's. My sign can breathe easily now that it is out of that dysfunctional environment.

My rule in real estate is if a sale is so tough that it doesn't go together smoothly, it probably wasn't meant to be. These two are no exception. Ari will not be homeless--though his mother will probably have Ari fire me and the loan officer. Inga isn't homeless, but probably will be through choices she is making. But I am ok with that.

I am gong for a walk now. I need a karma cleanse.

Pbth...

I hadn't heard from Inga in a few days. I had called and texted, but no response. Given she has a few health issues and a felon making ugly comments, I was concerned. So, I called her estranged husband Liam, just to make sure. With no return call from him, I went on my merry way, figuring someone would notice a sign in their front yard and eventually I might hear back.

Well, I did. It was Liam, the estranged husband. He started his phone call with the, "How are you...?" emphasizing the "you" as about sixteen syllables. Frankly, at that point nothing else needed to be said.

Well wouldn't you know! Liam was calling to tell me Inga has decided, once again, not to sell the house. And would I kindly take down my sign? Also, they want to "reimburse" me for my time and expenses. But, he hastily added, they have no money, so as long as my time and expenses were free, they could pay up.

I probably should feel worse about this, but I kind of figured this was a train wreck. I liked having my sign in the yard because it was free advertising. Now I need to figure out a way to find a high-functioning client instead.

Ari's Sale

This sale for Ari the Felon has never sat well with me. Call it a gut-feel. Or indigestion. Or experience, masking as intuition.

Anyway, let me start by saying--and I checked yesterday so I know this to be true--there is nothing else for sale that meets Ari's criteria and in his price range at this time. We found the unicorn. And now he is buying it.

However, the unicorn in question has come with its own set of challenges. First, the selling agent has been a bit dishonest and sloppy. We started off on a bad note that has only gotten more stiffly polite as time has moved forward. After sending him a Cure Notice early on (a Cure Notice being a vote of no confidence and an incredible insult), I crossed my fingers I would never need a favor from this dude.

Second, I did not pick the loan officer for this sale. Ari's mama did. She worked for this bank at one time in the mortgage department and called in a few favors. When it was time to meet the loan officer, I asked a few pointed questions to make sure he knew what he was doing. In general, agents don't care to work with mortgage officers who work for banks because banks don't really care about contracts and they work at their own speed in their own time. This loan officer is no exception. However, the contract clearly states if certain tasks aren't done in a timely manner, Ari will loose his earnest money at the very least and could end up losing his unicorn.

Third, Mama bear is a nosy busybody. She is mostly taken care of, as I completely ignore her. The loan officer isn't so lucky. She and her minions are breathing down his back. Plus she seems to control the marionette strings attached to Ari. Ari thinks the world of her.

We are a few days away from Ari losing his earnest money because the loan officer did not handle some basic tasks. Maybe it is just me, but if the appraisal was done on February 15 and I was the loan officer, I wouldn't have spent three weeks staring at the ceiling wondering when it would drop in my lap. It isn't as if I didn't call the dude twice a day and ask where it was. It isn't as if the other agent wasn't asking the loan officer where it was either. Seriously, I don't get it.

Additionally, the loan officer was trapped up by a (to me) minor chore that is REQUIRED ON EVERY SALE. The task didn't happen last week and it took the selling agent yelling at me (twice, once on Friday and once on Monday) and the loan officer for the loan officer to figure out how to make it happen.

Because of all of the above, this sale isn't closing on time. That means Ari's earnest money is about to be non-refundable. It also means I am going to be slapped with a cure notice in a couple of days. In addition to the implied meaning of a cure notice, it also allows the seller to cancel the sale. So, I need that favor from the other agent--have his client sign a contract extension.

After talking to the agent today, I am not sure they are willing to do this. The seller doesn't have to. He can force the earnest money to become non-refundable. And because the selling agent isn't very happy with me he is being punitive. "No my client isn't going to sign the addendum," he barked.

I have spoken with all parties and gotten nowhere. I feel helpless and frustrated. And I keep wondering if there was a way to have listened to my gut-feel weeks ago and have saved Ari from this mess. Hopefully if this sale closes, his home will be be just as magical as he wants it to be.

Public Service Announcement

If you know your brother's wife is the type to defraud and has countless lawsuits and arrests, might be best not to go into business with her. And maybe if you are the wife of a man whose husband you don't get along with, maybe you should consider living far, far away. Then all sides could be happy.

In other news, I have just spent the last 287 hours reviewing 9 million pages of evidence for two cases the Grievance Committee will be hearing this week.

Frustration

One of the reasons I did not invite Jane to join me when I opened up the brokerage was I did not feel like I could sufficiently train her and coach her into being the agent she wanted to be. I had tried this when we both worked for El Jefe, and the results were marginal. After 44+ years of friendship, it was safe to say there was no way I could hold her accountable. After all, nobody is a profit in their own home.

But, when I left El Jefe, I did look for a place for Jane to go. And hence, I introduced her to Mrs. Hufflepuff. It has been a great match for both of them. They are friends and their talents compliment each other. In the year Jane has been at Mrs. Hufflepuff's brokerage, she has bloomed. She is also now in charge of paperwork for various agents, so she is doing some value-added work (for which she is compensated). Plus she is held accountable as a sales agent and has been given a lot of formal training that I would not have been able to provide her.

Jane recently--without any mentoring from Mrs. H., found a listing. I personally was super-proud of her. It is a big deal when one gets that first client who isn't a family or friend. Some stranger is saying, "hey I trust you!" This past week she met with her potential seller to get everything signed and get the house on the market. And this is where I have a problem.

I was the one who looked over Jane's paperwork. I found a few errors and omissions--rookie mistakes, actually. But ones Mrs. Hufflepuff should have caught, if she had been bothered to look at Jane's paperwork in the first place, which she didn't.

Yesterday, Jane met with her seller. Mrs. Hufflepuff was too busy to attend Jane's first "big girl" listing presentation. So, with Mrs. Hufflepuff's blessing (after all she is the broker of Jane's company), I tagged along. I didn't mind doing so, except it wasn't my job. Their friendship aside, it was in Mrs. Hufflepuff's best interest to be there because she owns the liability if Jane makes a mistake. If I advise Jane in a way that is not what Mrs. Hufflepuff wants, I am fine. Jane won't be.

Jane did great at the listing appointment. She stumbled on a few minor things, turned to me and I filled in the blanks, much to her client's satisfaction. The paperwork was signed. I helped Jane start marketing the place and told her what she needed to do next. All of this is Mrs. Hufflepuff's job.

All of it.

These issues aside--although I am frustrated at Mrs. H., it must be ok to both her and Jane--I am really pleased that Jane managed to do this. Real estate is a tough business and it truly does take some time to become established. Most of my business these days are repeat clients and referrals. Rarely do I seek new clients. Jane isn't in a place where she has that luxury. So, this is a huge win for her.

I just wish her broker would have had her back.

Bad MLS Pictures

This house keeps coming up in my feed. It is time to share it with you folks.

Every picture tells a story. This one tells me there is no storage. Nor is there a roof on the shed.