The Rambling Realtor

When I was growing up, my parents brought a couple of dogs through the house. There was Patches, who, at the sight of daylight, would dart for the door and play a sweet little game of “catch the super fucking fast dog” for about 90 minutes. And there was Shasta, a blip on our radar but was around long enough to get very, very stoned at one party I threw while my parents were in Las Vegas.

That, really, was the extent of my pet ownership. I didn’t bathe, feed, or nurture them. I was psyched that they were around but didn’t have the wherewithal to understand why someone should be pissed that one of them ate a hole into the carpet or gnawed at the staircase (both Patches).

In 2007, I met Marcy. She was dating a fella and I was dating her roommate. Her boyfriend had bought her this hand sized pug for her birthday. Over at their place, I began to play with Sloan, pitch black and full of vigor. So, I would toss her across the floor and she would come scurrying back to me, ready for her next adventure. She was just about the sweetest thing I had ever seen.

It was 13 years between interactions between me and Marcy. Life was chaotic, she married the guy and I got married, as well. I never stopped thinking about Marcy, but I never stopped thinking about Sloan, either. In 2020, Marcy and I began speaking again and I couldn’t help but wonder how Sloan was doing. Marcy would tell me that she was the same as always, chasing extra kibble and fighting for space on her lap.

Marcy and I had both gotten divorced and began dating. 18 months later, we bought a house. Sloan was officially my dog. She was my responsibility to take out every two hours, to feed, to bathe (kinda, when absolutely necessary), to ensure that the kids weren’t sitting on her. This was a responsibility that I took very seriously. This was the first dog that I considered mine. And she was exceptional.

Sloan barked maybe, MAYBE, once every 18 months. She would bark then go back to laying down, almost unrealizing of the fact that she had just done so. She was never upset at anyone and kept to herself. In her teens, if my legs were up on the couch, she would go between them and scratch at them, signifying that I needed to spread them so she could lay there. It’s the equivalent of a bar patron laying their empty pint glass on its side to signify a need for another, but I didn’t care. I very much loved it.

Three years ago, Sloan, at the tender age of 14, took a traipse into our wooded back yard. Two days into our desperate search, I organize a final recovery mission, certain of the outcome. Lo and behold, my new best friend, Stephanie, came out with Sloan, just hanging out by the creek for two days, maybe getting some sun, maybe just escaping the domestication. I don’t know.

When your dog is 15 year old, you don’t really take them to the vet. There is a 0% chance that the vet is going to give you good news. In fact, they’re very likely to let you know that you have to pay $7000 for your little fur baby to leave the office. Well, we had our hesitations, but Sloan needed some meds to deal with some excitement stuff she was working through, so our hands were tied, and so we went. While there, the doctor told us that Sloan had this growing mass next to her heart and that she had limited time left. We got the pills to help her with the excitement and counted the days.

Immediately, thinking we had a few months, we vowed to give Sloan everything that she wanted. Want to piss and shit in our lovely home? Your call. Care to nab food out of guests hands? Treat Yoself. All is forgiven. Then a year went by. Then two…

And she was still here. Was she happy? I really don’t know. But she kept showing up and was happy to lay in our laps. As she was into her 16th and 17th year, you could tell that she wasn’t super psyched about going through the day. She had really great moments, but on the whole, she just seemed…tired. Her tail didn’t perk up as often and she preferred her bed over the couch. If I picked her up and put her next to me, she would do it, but I got the sense it was much more for me than her.

Sloan began having seizures after eating and she was having little “accidents” in her bed, which was something new for her. We had to make the difficult decision that we knew was coming but were terrified to make. We were just hoping that she passed away in her sleep. But Sloan would never do that. She was an absolute warrior. And so we had to ask ourselves the difficult question: are we selfishly keeping her alive for us? The answer was yes. If Sloan had a voice, I think she would have politely asked us to put her down.

We went to the vet to do the procedure. We were absolutely messy. This was our girl that we were deciding to end. Are we sure it’s right? There’s no turning back. Maybe she’s just having a tough month. Ultimately, we put Sloan down. We were sitting in the room with her and the vet. They gave her anesthesia then euthanized her. The vet was assuring us that it would just be a few seconds. Then a few minutes passed and our girl was just having a good snooze. After 5 minutes or so, the vet decided that Sloan wasn’t going down without a battle, so they had to give her a second dose. Our 11 pound pug needed two doses of the death juice to take her down. That’s my lady.

Marcy and I wept harder than we had in years. She peeled me off the ground outside of the office to get me in the car so we couple bawl privately. It was the saddest I had felt in many, many years.

There is no replacement for a dog like Sloan. She’s 1 of 1. This gal was so tough, so loving, so independent, so selfless. We’re going to miss her for a very long time. The house feels quieter and less colorful without her around. I hope, wherever she is, she’s understanding and proud of what she created and gave to this family. Our lives are forever changed because of her.

Rest easy, boney. You were the straw in this family.

I get asked a lot what realtors do when they’re not looking at houses. Well, I thought it would be fun to take a trip through a weird day for me. Is it atypical? Yes. But it’s not crazy abnormal. Just kinda. And I own a restaurant. Without further ado…

7:47 AM- Awaken by a smack on the forehead by my 7 year old son who feels as if I may have been overdoing it in the sleep department.

9:00 After getting breakfasts in front of them (chocolate chip muffins), putting together the dudes’ backpacks, water bottles, and Pokemon folders and ensuring they had socks on, getting them safely into their mom’s Outback. Cross that off.

9:08 Shower, clean up, leave for showing, forget wallet, turn back around, grab wallet, concern about being late, hit the road.

10:00 First showing of the day. Small chance they’ll buy it. It’s in the middle of nowhere and has a nice roof and solid kitchen.

10:30 Hop back in the car. Talk to clients on cell and let them tell me how this isn’t the house for them. Middle of nowhere so service cuts out twice.

11:10 Second showing of the day. From the moment I scheduled it, there was no chance they would buy it, but I like the agent and it will be nice for the buyers to see what that price point will buy them in that area, so we take a courtesy look. I thank the listing agent. He looks me in the eye and we both know this isn’t going to end well.

11:38 I scurry over to The Riverworks for a bartending shift. I’m late but I own the place and that’s just how it goes. Marcy and I work on Sunday afternoons together and she’s holding down the fort just fine.

12:00-3:58 Bartending. Good times. It allows me to turn my brain off and always kinda feels like we’re just hosting a party, which is always fun. Good crew, good customers. In this window of time, I’m being told that my clients want to put an offer in that has a deadline of 6 PM. Also, I had an open house that was covered by another agent so I’m keeping one eye on the phone for questions and one eye on Table 15.

4:00 Fantasy baseball draft starts. We were going to do it in the restaurant but everyone is busy with life and we get late cancellations. It’s a blessing because I don’t have the bandwidth to communicate. I didn’t have time to get home so it’s a draft at the restaurant. I still have to figure out a time for to throw together the offer in the next two hours, so this will be a concurrent effort. While pondering who I’ll select for a catcher, I have to do paperwork for a purchase that will ultimately be the biggest one of another human’s life. I choose to lean my attention towards the offer. As the draft is happening, a friend of mine is sitting at the table with me and telling me which new player is being bid on. I’m interested but incapable of action.

5:54 The draft completes. I feel relieved. My catcher is decent but my outfield is atrocious. Looks like I’ll be hitting the waiver wire. Alas…

6:04 I get the offer in, late by a mere 4 minutes. It’s incomplete but it will have to do for now. It’s not going to be the final draft anyway so as long as they get the idea of the major points, we’ll clean it up tomorrow.

6:12 Marcy and I get a drink in and decide that we won’t be cooking dinner tonight.

7:08 We go to La Festa for a couple of delicious slices of sausage, pepper, and onion pizza and a big Moat Mountain Blueberry beer. I need my brain to cool off for a minute. Marcy tells me she’ll see me on Tuesday. I don’t know what that means. She tells me it means that I ignore everything around me when I’m in real estate mode.

8:15 Finally got home. I get to put another offer together. Marcy has a soak in our new tub. I very much don’t want to do this tonight but I said I would and that’s how it goes.

9:01 Offer done, clients have signed, paperwork submitted to listing agent.

9:09 Watching White Lotus, trying to minimize the things on my mind, preparing for tomorrow, having an oversized Ketel One and soda.

This was my day. It was overwhelming, fun, chaotic, energizing, and exhausting. Technically, I made $150 for my efforts (all courtesy of my bartending shift) and I have a disappointing fantasy baseball team. I’ll take it every day.

So, you and your wife/husband/buddy/life partner have been taking for a few months about selling the house and the time has finally come. You call your agent to tell them that you’re ready to list it and would like it on the market in a week. Unfortunately, there’s likely no way it will be ready to go in that time frame.

When I get hired to list a home, there’s a general misconception that I just throw a couple of photos up on the good ole interwebs and 45 days later, I get to cash in. It’s a little more involved than that. If you hire a good agent, there’s a lot that goes into this process. For instance, all of my listings come with a house cleaning and professional photos. These need to be scheduled but they can’t happen until my client goes through the house and removes (or hides) all personal artifacts and aggressively simplifies the whole place. Depending on which of my packages that a client chooses, I may also have a pre-inspection for general safety and a pre-inspection for electrical, as these help the seller with any requests the seller might get from buyers during the inspection process. And sometimes stuff needs to be fixed or painted or, depending on the time of the year, there may have to be some landscaping that needs to be done. All houses can be improved upon to earn the seller more money on the sale and it’s a good agent’s job to point those things out and to map a plan for how to get them done.

If you’re considering selling your home, contact your agent at the beginning of the thought process rather than when you’re ready to go. I promise you that, no matter how meticulous you are, there’s work to do.

Because I’m a Realtor (see previous post for the significance of that designation, please), I just assume that everyone, in all avenues of life, has heard about all of the real estate rule changes and shifts. Well, if you’re not well versed on the August 2024 settlement between the people of Missouri and the National Association of Realtors, grab a little Pop Secret and your favorite box wine and let The Rambler fill you in.

For as long as anyone can remember (unless their memory extends beyond the early 1990s), listing agents negotiated a commission percentage with their sellers for services provided to sell their home. As part of the listing agreement, the listing agent disclosed how much of the commission percentage would be allocated to the buyers agent. In some instances, a listing agent would write stipulations in the provisions for instances when the buyer was unrepresented. Either way, the details were clearly laid out and the seller(s) signed off on it.

The problem, of course, is that they kinda had to. Because the offered buyer agency commission is openly displayed on the Multiple Listing Service for all realtors to see, any seller unwilling to offer a buyer agent a commission for helping their clients to buy the home would immediately have their home dismissed from consideration, with good reason. After all, this ain’t UNICEF. So, if sellers decided it was crazy to essentially pay for the agent of the buyer, their property would become a pariah, unworthy of a look. So what was a seller to do?

And so it went for 30+ years. The sellers would willingly pay the commission of both sides, the fee would essentially be cooked into the sales price, the buyers would be cool with paying for that fee over the course of 30 years, and we all continued to go to work. Then…

In 2019, a group of people in Missouri decided enough was enough. They said that the idea that sellers were paying all the commissions violated antitrust and sued the flatfooted National Association of Realtors to the tune of $1.8 BILLION dollars, with a B. That money would go to all those poor folks throughout this nation that had the misfortune of paying buyer agency commissions for all those years, the argument being that the sellers had no other recourse but to fork over the dough for everyone involved in the transaction. With that lawsuit, we were off to the races.

For the next 5 years, attorneys from both sides battled and battled and…had some phone calls and…some lunches ensued and…battled and battled and…probably had some negotiation conversations and…well, they had a lot of billable hours. At the end of it all, the NAR and the kind people of Missouri settled on $418 million to aid in America’s ongoing suffering. The grand majority of that money went to the attorneys for both sides. The remaining $30k (give or take) was divvied up between the 9 million (give or take) people who sold a home in the past 30 years.

For three months after the settlement, brokerages everywhere scrambled around trying to understand how to comply with this new reality. What forms should we use? What are the right words to say to buyers? You want an agency agreement when?? And the problem was that the states didn’t really know, either. Each state was different and they were all figuring it out on the fly. My agency had many, MANY meetings to discuss how they wanted each scenario to play out, including how they wanted our language in the buyer and seller agreement provisions to read, mostly because New Hampshire didn’t do a stellar job of being thorough. Nobody wanted to be wrong and nobody knew what was right.

I had some fears. I feared that a large number of buyers would go at it alone without the assistance of a buyer’s agent. This fear wasn’t drenched in greed, but compassion. I thought that buyers would feel it would be the only way they could buy properties they really desired. I feared, if they were to do that, it would lead to many, many lawsuits. Against sellers because of an unsatisfactory living situation and against listing agents for not offering their opinions to the buyers, something those agents aren’t able to give due to their fiduciary responsibilities to the sellers. I thought of all the things that can go wrong. Look, I’m not under some weird disillusion that real estate agents are modern day messiahs, but I can say that we’re here for the good, looking out for everyone’s best interests.These are huge purchases for people and we want them to be protected. This felt wrong.

Eventually, things settled down. We’re now nearly 6 months into this transition and what I’m finding is this: sellers are offering commissions to the buyers agents because if they don’t, their property would be at a disadvantage. Sound familiar? Sellers certainly aren’t required to offer these things and all would be right with them if they didn’t, but buyers interested in their property would either have to go without an agent or would have to come up with the commissions themselves, a herculean task for some that are struggling to come up with down payments and closing costs in the first place. So, a buyer might love a particular property but may feel as if that property falls out of their reality due to their needs, either representative or monetary. Thus, sellers are willingly offering proceeds towards buyer agency commissions or closing costs, not out of seeming necessity, but in an effort to make their properties more desirable. As it was before, it’s baked into the purchase price and everyone seems OK with it. Sellers seem to be at peace because it feels like their decision.

So who won and who lost? Well, attorneys cashed, so that’s cool. The NAR is probably feeling a little bit of a sting, but they get my $800 a year so they’re doing just fine. I would imagine the whistleblowers in the Ozarks are a little bummed that their big stand turned into a turkey sandwich for all of the tortured, voiceless victims they were standing up for (even though nobody asked them to in the first place). Agents lost a little because of the mild chaos. Seemingly, buyers and sellers are exactly the same.

When this started in 2019, it felt like it was a solution to a non problem. Fast forward 5 years, it still feels that way. Sellers get peace of mind, involved lawyers get their Wagyu on Saturday nights, and the beat goes on. Much ado…

Are you aware that there’s a difference between a Realtor and a real estate agent? It’s true and it’s…huge.

A realtor and a real estate agent both have the same fiduciary responsibilities and have to go through the same continuing education courses. They both have the same ramifications for their actions should they disobey their fiduciary responsibilities. But the major difference is this. Are you sitting down?

Realtors have to take a 2.5 hour Code of Ethics class every two years and have to pay an annual fee to the National Association of Realtors. Mind…BLOWN!

I’m a Realtor and this is why I look down on those lowly real estate agents. I’ve earned it. I wrote a check!!

I’ve asked around and it appears that my suspicion was confirmed: people get jobs to make money. I’m no exception. I became a realtor with the hope of making supportive income. I liked the idea of “the harder you work, the more you make”. Maybe the lack of this condition is what made me such a hard to handle employee. I felt as if I would grind with any job I was in but I was too impatient to wait for the recognition.

What I’ve found throughout this career has surprised me. With real estate, you create your own recognition, which isn’t just dollars. In fact, if money wasn’t a factor, I can honestly say this is still what I would do (but only because I’m 5’7″ and wouldn’t get picked up by even the New Orleans Pelicans). I really do love the feeling of a first time homebuyer getting the keys and seeing their look of genuine wonder over what they’re supposed to do next. I thoroughly enjoy getting a card or a text or email after the transaction to thank me for helping them through. One client even bought me a cake! I bought my Christmas tree from my client whose land included a tree farm. While I was there, I felt like the mayor because all of their friends there were referred to me by them. A few years ago, I was texted a family Thanksgiving photo that consisted of an entire family that I helped to get into their homes.

This is the good stuff and keeps me in it. It keeps me hungry. It keeps my eye on what’s important. I tell clients that the worst case scenario is that I see them at a Hannaford and I have to hide behind the asparagus because I knew that they didn’t get the right house in the right place at the right price. So, sometimes I have to tell my buyer that I’m not going to allow them to buy a house that they’re really interested in because, once that energy fades, they’re not going to be happy with it or me.

We’re all in everything for the money. Not much is for the love of the game anymore. But, by very good fortune, I have a job that gives me everything. It gives me gratitude, client appreciation, time flexibility, and a decent wage. Best of all, though, I’ve made some great friends along the way. Friendships that are lasting long past the transaction. That’s kinda awesome.

Prior to 2014, I had 2139 different jobs (give or take a few). I graduated from Whittemore School of Business and Economics at UNH and worked as a public accountant for a few years during and after college. When I realized that I had just invested 5 collegiate years in something that I didn’t want to do, I went into scramble mode. I sold mortgages, financed cars, sold paper solutions, did some private accounting, built decks, bartended a lot, tried public accounting again (which made me so sad that I went home for lunch, cried, smoked a cigarette, and went back to work every day), and did some restaurant management. I did a lot of stuff. Remember how I talked about mental breakdowns leading people to becoming a realtor? Yeah.

My first son was born in 2015 and I needed to figure things out real quick, so when I realized that real estate could pay me enough to be a career in 2016, it was a HUGE sigh of relief. You don’t need a ton of sales to make a decent living as a realtor, and by year 3, people began calling me as opposed to me pretending that I was everyone’s best friend.

When you get to the point that people are calling you and you don’t have to prospect all the time, being a realtor might be the best job in the world. You put out some fires, you help people, you keep an eye on paperwork, and you get handsomely compensated. It’s work for sure, but it’s not grueling like some would have you believe. I worked for two years in outdoor construction in New Hampshire. Seriously, negotiating an addendum is not all that grinding. Yes, we have to deal with kooky clients sometimes, but isn’t that kind of the game? We’re all a little nuts about some things. I have a weird thing about eating Cheez-Its by a factor of four. It’s real.

So, life is all kinds of bueno when the going is good in Realtorville, but when it’s not? Oh boy.

When I first started in this voyage, I was desperate to get anyone to talk to me about real estate. Whatever they wanted to talk about, I was up for it. I would sit at a bar and listen in on any conversations, checking to see if they might be discussing interest rates or school systems. Anything that I could do to let them know that I was a realtor. After all, the bosses will tell you that the worst thing you can be is a silent agent. This is why realtors LOVE to tell you they’re realtors.

(I went to download an image of a “hey, look at me. I’m a realtor!” t-shirt, but there were about 7800 to choose from and I got overwhelmed. Go ahead and use the google machine if you don’t believe me).

I’m not much for the self promotion stuff, so that was a pretty difficult game for me. It sucked. Actually, it still sucks. If someone wants to know something, they’ll ask. If they do, then I can feel free to talk and talk and talk about appraisals and assessments and the value of property taxes versus income taxes. Otherwise, I’m just kind of annoying.

In the first year, I did all the stuff that I despised when solicitors would do to me. I knocked on doors of expired listings, I texted old friends to say hello but, really, it was so they could ask me what I was doing for work so I could tell them all about it. I’d do a ton of events that I didn’t want to do so I could show that I cared about the people that I was visiting. All sales positions are like this, of course, realtors don’t need a ton of transactions to make a living. They’re big ticket items, which makes real estate agents (especially poor ones in the early stage) even more desperate. And, so, we do annoying stuff for survival. Great times…

Let’s get this out of the way from the start: I am not representative of all realtors. What I write in this space is not the voice of the profession. I’m sure there’s a room somewhere full of realtors, singing Abba songs and sharing their gratitude that they’re so fortunate to have the opportunity to make dreams come true. I don’t know where it is but I bet it exists. They don’t tell me these things. I don’t know the secret handshake.

I truly started as a realtor in 2014. I dipped my toe in it in 2011 the same way that everyone else: they have a mental breakdown and convince themselves that selling real estate is the answer to all of their problems. So I don’t count that. In 2014, I quit my job and went all in. I hear so many of my fellow professionals say that they’re in it for the love and the passion and their unwavering desire to help families transition to their next chapter of life, but that’s certainly not why I did it. That sounds super nice and everything, but I did it because I don’t think I’m very good as someone else’s employee and it seemed like the easiest and least expensive way to start your own business. So I went for it. And that’s how I became a real estate agent.