This One Was Dismissed

I read all two gazillion pages of the grievance files for our meeting this week. TWO GAZILLION,  PEOPLE!!!!

One case--thank God!--I don't have to peer review was from a tenant who felt that her Property Management company had acted "inappropriately" by evicting her.

The Tenant also accused the Property Management broker of several other heinous crimes because the Broker was having her evicted for, "no reason." Oh, and the Tenant also filed a complaint with the Department of Real Estate. And, for grins she also filed a complaint with the AZ BAR Association against the lawyer who handled the eviction.

Never mind the repeated letters to the Tenant from the Property Management company saying rent was late and there was a sizable balance stacking up against the Tenant. Never mind the multiple e-mails from the Property Management company offering solutions to work with the Tenant so that she could stay in the house when she was continually behind on rent. Never mind the letters and pictures from the Property Management's handyman to the broker saying the tenant was willfully destroying the house on a regular basis. And please! Never mind the order of protection from one of the Property Management's agents against the Tenant because the Tenant physically threatened the Property Management's agent. Nope, that never happened--at least according to the Tenant--but there was a paper trail two gazillion miles long proving the Tenant was lying.

I read this complaint and my head ached.

February's Grievance Committee

Currently, there are bits o' brain scattered around my office. You see, apparently every single disgruntled client in the last months of 2019 filed an ethics complaint. And the fun part is that they are all being heard this week by the Grievance Committee. It is not an exaggeration to say that if I were to print out every February grievance file given to me I could cover the floor of a major arena and still have enough to paper to spread thoroughly around three football fields.

Part of my job is to peer review (thankfully) one case. Somehow word got out that I know a thing or two about property management and I suspect for that reason, I was given a disgruntled potential renter. Yay me. I have skimmed a few of the cases and so far (hence the bits of brain), all I really know is that I am grateful I didn't get the 83 page grievance to peer review.

Tomorrow I have blocked my entire morning to read through the 13 cases so I can come to the meeting with some sort of cogent and logical thought. Hopefully a few hours is all I am going to need.

Back to Work

My self-imposed time off came to a screeching halt yesterday. But that was to be expected, after all, it was February 1. One month-ish should hopefully be enough time to unwind and get back into the swing of things. There might be those who scoff at idle time, but Folks, burn-out is real.

In my relaxation, I managed to acquire two cedar chests to someday refinish. Also, I am making an ottoman out of a sewing machine bench. I read five books (plus half of another book that was too dreadful to finish). There was some parenting and too many kid-doctor appointments. And then there was a fun road trip to the Dragoon Mountains you can read about in my prior blog. So, my time off time was well spent.

January wasn't all fun and games. I taught my first class! I did send out some comps to past clients--maybe about one-eighth of the ones I normally do. I managed to make it to my Phoenix Metro Real Estate data class (spoiler: there is a huge inventory shortage, it is driving up the price of homes). I attended my first professional development committee meeting. I had one buyer meeting that turned into a renter. I had another buyer meeting that was cancelled because my client doesn't have a down payment. She will also be a renter. And I wrote a lease for a client, who (thankfully) had her own tenant. And oh yes, I finally turned in my paperwork to Beth, allowing me to teach at her school. That's kind of a perfunctory chore, as I have already taught at her school and I am scheduled to teach again.

And yes, that was while taking a month off.

I still have a boatload of work to tackle. This week I have another buyer meeting scheduled with well-qualified folks who have a down payment and a high FICO. I have a meeting with my marketing rep, Sarah. There are more comps to take care of for clients. A grievance committee meeting, with about 500 pages to read through is also on my list. I have a newsletter to write. Plus I have two rental clients now (see above paragraph) and a buyer on my plate. And oh yes, I am teaching at the end of the month.

Loan Adventures

The Dragoon Mountains

Recently, I went on a quick trip to Southern Arizona. My destination was a quiet little patch of the world where a delightful 80 year old woman lives. I had been invited to visit for a couple of days--which turned into a bit longer. And I had an absolute ball! But enough about my free time. There is a point to this post.

While I was visiting Mrs. Meadows (a widow), I discovered she was in the process of refinancing her home. She had asked her treasured nephew, a Phoenix real estate agent, for a "reliable" loan officer and had been working with Ted (loan officer) ever since. Ted, however, pretty much didn't do much other than take a loan application over the phone and send her a small rain forest of paperwork he wanted her to sign. There was no explanation. No directions. In fact, Ted, to "help her" actually asked her to electronically sign everything. Of course, the subtext was, there was no reason to read it first, just click on the "signature" tab and move along.

It turns out Mrs. Meadows was holding on to this for a week because she was overwhelmed and wasn't sure what to do. While I was there, I sat with her one evening and went through each and every paper. Twice.

Just a little patch of wonderfulness

I also called Bulldog (my loan officer of choice) and asked her if the closing costs were reasonable and the rate was good. Bulldog, predictably, begged me for a chance to match this loan and earn the business. However, I couldn't do that. I am not treasured nephew and was not asked to provide a loan officer name. Nor did I need Mrs. Meadows' children calling me wanting to know why I was interfering in the finances of their mother. I have a license and there could be serious perceived ethics infractions if I let Bulldog get hold of this. So, I told her no, but asked her for help anyway.

I sometimes wonder why Bulldog takes my calls.

Anyway, in the end, I found out the rate was good (great, according to Bulldog). The loan wasn't what Mrs. Meadows thought she was getting and--more to the point--she thought the amount was wrong. The closing costs were reasonable, with a few exceptions. There was a small issue of the outrageous fee for a credit report. Plus, Mrs. Meadows is refinancing about 40 percent of the value of her home. Why did she need an appraisal for an amount so low? Also, why on earth was Ted expecting an 80 year old woman, with little computer experience to electronically sign anything?

I took care of the last part and set her up with an electronic signature, that she can use if she wishes in the future. But for now, she signed everything by hand and instructed me to deliver it to her loan officer in Phoenix when I returned. She wasn't messing with the whole "computer signing thing."

A great view out the front window

That evening, I also called Ted, used my Big-Girl Broker voice and left a few messages. When he finally got around to calling me back the next morning, I had just left the Hacienda in the Middle of Nowhere and was heading home. While we saying hello, I turned back around and headed back to Mrs. Meadows. Ted wasn't a fool. He knew he had no business talking to me--I wasn't his client. What we were discussing was confidential to the two of them. However, he was polite enough to hang on while I drove over the dirt roads a mile or two back to the house.

The first part of our chat was where I confirmed: he had no idea Mrs. Meadows, his client, was confused about the zillions of papers he sent her. Seriously, did he not think to call her and walk her through everything ahead of time? By the time I got around to questioning the professionalism of someone who would just send someone a boatload of documents under the circumstances I was back in her driveway.

Before I got back out of the car, Ted referred to Mrs. Meadows by her first name. Windows still up and his client out of earshot, I said very matter of fact, "From this point forward, when you talk to her, her first name is 'Mrs.'." I heard Ted sigh, but he got the message. I just spent three days with her and I don't even use her first name--and I have known her 40+ years!

Sunrise at the Hacienda

So the three of us had a conference call, out in the middle of nowhere Arizona. Ted, in Phoenix me and Mrs. Meadows in her kitchen, overlooking the Dragoon Mountains. Ted called her "Mrs. Meadows," and that was fine by everyone else. I assured Mrs. M., that her loan was good and the interest rate was a dandy. Ted was doing everything right (Bulldog verified it). However, what was with an appraisal on a loan amount so low? Ted hemmed and hawed, and through a variety of calls and negotiations with me over the next two days, I managed to get him to drop this. I also told him the amount he is charging for a credit report is highway robbery. He didn't disagree, but I convinced to get him to remove the $600 appraisal so I am not sure I am going to have much luck on the credit report.

Mrs. Meadows said from this point forward Ted is to send everything to me first, and only then she will sign. Ted countered back, saying that was impossible. I told him I would be happy to show him how to use his own computer system where there is an option for someone else to review if he truly had a problem with this. And that took care of that.

The paperwork got back to Ted in time for him to process the loan. Additionally, because the property is in a trust, Ted is willing to use my escrow officer (nobody else in this party had one readily available so I suggested one). Also, I am willing to make the 3+ hour drive back South to sit with Mrs. M. when she signs her loan documents. I will probably get a thank you and a Wendy's lunch out of it. But I know she will be protected and more importantly, it will give her a piece of mind.

As for Ted, he and I have been chatting about Mrs. M's loan for the past few days. We are good. Ted even volunteered he will make sure his clients are educated in the future. Plus we have been talking shop about a few other items. He just happens to have a loan program Bulldog doesn't have. If he takes care of Mrs. Meadows right, I could see my way to sending him a potential buyer some time in the future. But he better explain all of the documents he wants my clients to sign FIRST and not charge them an outrageous amount for a credit report.

The Professional Development Meeting

So yesterday was my first meeting on the Professional Development committee. At the end of last year, I asked to be join this committee and gratefully resigned my role on the Community Outreach committee.

I am not sorry.

The Professional Development committee oversees all of the adult education at the local realtor association. They bring in guest speakers and interview future teachers. I wanted to be part of this group because I want to (eventually) teach at the association.

My greatest fear was the group would be as unprofessional and cliquish as the Community Outreach committee was. I needn't had worried. I probably could have walked into a junior high school cafeteria during hazing week and had a more welcoming experience at any Community Outreach meeting I ever attended.

Anyway, this group was professional. I knew a a few folks and they were pretty cool. When introductions came along, several mentioned they were involved in the leadership group I opted not to interview for. I felt a twinge of regret in not going for it, but truly, I would have been over-committed. Perhaps next year.

Overall, I really liked the group and I liked the meeting. The Chair was pleasant, didn't make snide comments or cut people down when they had an idea (unlike the Community Outreach committee Chair). Nobody was blatantly leering into the chest of any woman wearing a low-cut top (unlike the Community Outreach committee Vice-chair). In fact, conversation, discussion and questions were encouraged.

Except once. And please--let me just die and fade into the sunset.

So we had two potential instructor interviews as part of this meeting. The first guy walks in, starts his spiel on the essence of leadership and talks for 15 minutes. The Chair says to all of us on the panel watching the interview: "Mary, Patty, Paul and I will ask questions in the interest of time." Mary, and Paul ask a couple of questions.

However, nobody asked the burning question I wanted to know: Why did this guy who had no real estate experience whatsoever and was a licensed pharmacist want to teach at the Association?

Come on! Doesn't that sound like a reasonable question? I mean, we are interviewing REAL ESTATE INSTRUCTORS, right?

So Mary and Paul ask their questions. The Chair and Patty have no questions. Then the Chair looks at the rest of us and says, "Any other questions?" Which, to me, means he is inviting others to make logical queries. So I asked the guy who was interviewing why he wanted to teach real estate agents. Seems like a legit question to me. But then again, I have only been on this committee 90 minutes.

Anyway, apparently, what the Chair really meant was, "Nobody else damn well better ask a question," but my crystal ball wasn't working.

After the meeting I was politely taken aside and sweetly straightened out. No matter, I figured out my faux pas before the second dude interviewed. Hopefully nobody else will remember that moment--that I still can't figure out. I mean, why say, "Are there any more questions?" if you don't mean it? And why bring in a pharmacist to teach leadership to real estate agents?

By the way, the panel agreed to have the pharmacist teach a class. Don't ask me why. I didn't vote yes. I was still processing why this guy wants to teach real estate agents.

My Business Model

I have a new buyer. She is a referral from a friend, whom has never used me as her agent. When I talked to this new buyer, she asked why she never heard of my brokerage. I gave her my spiel:

"We are a boutique brokerage. We pick and choose our clients and only work with a select number of clients at a time and don't take on more than we can handle. Think of it like the exclusive restaurants in Beverly Hills. There is no sign on the place, six tables inside and you have to make reservations six months in advance."

Though it sounds like bunk--and trust me, I am the queen of bunk--there is some truth to it. "We" do pick and choose my clients. I am too seasoned in this business to take on toxic people. I don't take on more clients than I can handle. My max is six, and that will still drive me ragged. I once closed nine homes in one month, my family didn't see me for weeks and when they did, I was in a fetal position, cowering in the corner.

I do have a sign at my home, announcing I am a real estate brokerage. It is outside by the front door. It is required by the Arizona Department of Real Estate. But, with the exception of a Facebook page that someone else offered to design for me, I have zero Web presence. I am ok with that. It won't take my clients six months in advance to get an appointment with me, but I am fine passing off folks I don't have time for to other agents I know and trust.

My small brokerage does just fine with this model. I am not a Max/Re, or a 21st Century company. I don't want to be. I have low overhead and high sanity. That's the way I like it.

Greener Pastures

We sat down with the teens last week and discussed the future. Marty is back to wanting to leave the Valley as soon as possible. Polly is on board*. Buck, who has another year and a half of fire fighting school, is on board once he is done. Though it was pointed out to him that other parts of the world have fire fighting schools.

Honestly, I am sort of done with the entire Marty-looking-for-a-job-somewhere-else ordeal and just wish Marty could figure this out and tell me if I am packing. And if so, could we not move to a town with alligators, please?

There are many reasons to leave: we are paying more for basic car insurance than the value of the Flinstone mobile. Housing prices are astronomical. Traffic here and Los Angeles are the same. Honestly, I can't tell the difference--except (dare I say), the drivers in LA are politer. Polly can't breathe very well. The heat. And a myriad of other reasons too numerous for this patch of cyber space.

There are reasons to stay too. Our fathers are in their 80s. I have serious concerns about leaving my dad. He sleeps a lot right now and he isn't driving very much. Plus, we own our house. Moving anywhere else means housing issues with a bankruptcy that will "officially" be a year old next month. We are established here. I have friends and family I love and cherish. Granted I will still love and cherish them if I move but then I will also miss them. I like connection.

Thus far, on this latest adventure, Marty has only talked with the kids about their buy-in. He hasn't broken out the ol'e Indeed account and dusted off the resume. So, at this point, it is just talk. That said, I want Marty to figure out what will make him happy. I think he deserves to explore this. He has done this for me. It is time to return the favor.



*To be fair, I half expect if we get around to actually doing this, the kids will be old enough and established enough they will stay, but that's just a theory.