Keeping Up When Sales Are Down
This is the real estate market, they say, that will separate the men from the boys. The women from the girls. The players from the sideliners. As Bette Davis said, “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
More than a few realtors will be left in the dust, others will decamp for greener pastures. But for those of us who intend to weather this market, the head-set is simple: Don’t get mad, get busy. Very busy.
You’ve probably already noticed some of the new come-ons in your daily travels.
“Twilight opens” signal open houses for the going-home-from-work set. “Saturday opens” are on the rise, too. Ditto door-knocking and cold-calling. Don’t forget the regular entreaties in your mail: contest giveaways for trips, plays and fancy dinners. Realtors lure fellow agents to broker’s open houses with champagne, caviar, drawings and lottery tickets.
As practically every homeowner knows, there is a point at which the realtor stops being hard-working and aggressive and just becomes . . . a pain. The person whose idea of establishing a relationship is bulldozing you into timid compliance. Who hounds and hounds you even after you’ve made it clear that you’re not interested. Who takes you to houses that cost too much--or only to properties represented by them or their office. Eek!
Let’s put that type of agent aside. Far aside. Those of us who went into real estate with our morals intact are not going to turn into slobbering back stabbers just because business is a little off.
I know that people enlisting the services of a realtor appreciate quality when they see it. A good reputation goes a long way, too. The people who’re doing well in this market (that is, keeping up the payments on their Mercedeses) have paved the way in goodwill.
Granted, there is a perception problem.
You have a TV show such as Fox’s “Open House,” which, beyond portraying realtors as major maladroits, would have you believe that one becomes an agent by walking into an office.
Guess what? First you have to take a 45-hour course in real estate principles. Then you get to take a 3 1/2-hour test administered by the state Department of Real Estate. Then you wait two months while the state shuffles paper work--and sends your fingerprints to the Justice Department.
That nets you a temporary license. Two more courses, and it’s a full license, good for four years; in the interim, you must complete another 45 hours of continuing education courses, including a class in ethics, professional conduct and legal aspects of real estate.
You also have to keep your nose clean: The state board regularly sends out newsletters listing the names of realtors who’ve had their licenses yanked (some criminally prosecuted) for various improprieties.
Granted, none of this seems to mean much to the general populace, many of whom continue to regard us with the contempt usually reserved for used-car salesmen.
Two ladies from my office were recently “walking their farm” (i.e., saying hello to homeowners in their designated sales area) when they came upon an older fellow clipping his hedges. Immediately, the man jumped behind the bushes, refusing to come out. “Are you two realtors ?” he croaked in terror.
Sometimes, you’ve got to wonder why a sensitive, sensible, seemingly intelligent person would put himself in this profession.
Yes, you’re right. Money. And for someone like me, who came to real estate after growing up on the Westside appreciating the great houses around me, it’s an opportunity to surround myself with a lot of beauty.
Granted, every home we handle isn’t Architectural Digest material. Still, there’s always something to enjoy: fabulous light, fine tiles, a lovely garden. A house I saw a few months ago in Beverly Hills (price: $15.5 million) was so gorgeous, it left me quite limp.
But, this is as much a people business as a property business. Finding the right house for the right person--click!--is great. So is client rapport. And believe it or not, one of my favorite things is the camaraderie between agents.
When we are not bad-mouthing and cheating each other (ho-ho), you can find us schmoozing at a broker’s open, commiserating about our latest nightmare deal, munching Mexican food and sipping margaritas on a sunny Tuesday morn.
When the happy buzz wears off, of course, there are annoyances to attend to. Realtors have long worn the sleaze mantle as a societal rap, but we have to put up with our share of untoward behavior.
Such as looky-loos who dismiss us with a fake name and number. Such as buyers who misrepresent their bank accounts (as if it won’t come out!) Such as all the sundry princes, sheiks and heads of state who wander into our office off Santa Monica Boulevard--on foot. Best excuse: “It’s my chauffeur’s day off.”
Sometimes the deceptions aren’t so benign.
A realtor in our office was once asked by a client to float him a loan--he’d left his checkbook at home--and he’d pay him right back. Agent Doug dutifully wrote out a check, figuring he was covered anyway since it was an inactive account. The next day, the client announced he hadn’t had to use the check after all and had torn it up.
So imagine Agent Doug’s surprise when, a few nights later, he received an at-home visit from an unhappy drug dealer seeking recompense for the bounced check.
Usually the scams are of a less threatening nature. Many an agent has wined and dined (and even housed) a supposed visiting high roller, only to wake up and find The Moneyed One gone in a puff of smoke. A recent Westside “buyer” claiming to be the stage manager for “Phantom of the Opera” actually got a number of otherwise bright agents to fork over money for “special” tickets.
And who can forget the house-sitter who tried to sell his family’s home while they were vacationing in Europe.
Am I giving the impression that realtors have cornered the market on halos? Not so. They haggle over commissions, cancel appointments, ride roughshod over clients, forget their facts, show up with a run in their stockings.
At least one agent has had the nerve to drop dead in the middle of showing.
Generally, however, the daily drama of a realtor’s life is low on high jinks, high on hustle. It has to do with a lot of time on the road and at the computer, and always on the phone.
Emotionally and financially, you’ve got to be a self-starter. Although major companies pick up the tab for advertising and office costs, many other expenses (multiple listing books, liability insurance, membership in the Board of Realtors, all those client freebies) come out of the agent’s pocket. In other words, you get to spend a lot of money being a realtor.
So, realtor wanna-bes, be warned. This is not an easy business on the ego. The hours are very long. You will never spend another lazy Sunday again. You will never run out of things you should be doing--or people pushing to get there before you.
Every week you will meet someone who’s sure their $250,000 condo is worth $350,000. Every other day someone will ask you to keep an eye out for a bargain--say, a house in Bel-Air for under $500,000. And every day, you will notice a new gray hair. I’m wearing mine like battle stars.
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