Another Mental Trip to Uncertainville

The Road To Uncertainville

Today Marty Sunshine was supposed to have an interview. I was thrilled he timed it perfectly with my client meeting so I wouldn't have to be at home, listening. While I was with my client, I wondered off-hand, would this be my last sale? If we moved, would I be flying back here for the closing? Or driving? This type of minutia is nothing new. I have discovered there are all sorts of micro-possibilities that run through my head when I'm in in the middle of 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.

Muffed part 2

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)

So yesterday's Community Outreach Meeting made me want to drink heavily. I didn't. I stuck with iced tea while I commiserated with my realtor pal, Sally. To be fair, Sally warned me six ways from Sunday what I was in for. I knew going in this was a popularity contest. Naively, I believed the folks on this committee actually wanted to accomplish something more than just getting together once a month to gripe about how they aren't getting the committee's goals met.


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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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.