A well-heeled businessman strode into the foyer of a nondescript office building. Tossing a nod at the exiting secretary who held the door, he failed to suppress the knowing grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. A quick appraisal of the surroundings threatened to dampen his buoyant mood, however. The threadbare plaid couch in the waiting area appeared to be a reluctant holdover from his grandparent’s den, circa 1981. Were it not for the well-thumbed magazines littered about the adjoining table, he would not have believed that clients were actually expected to plant their backsides into the hungry springs that surely laid in wait just beneath the Sanka-stained fabric. The secretarial desk, vacant now that the evening receptionist had departed, seemed smallish somehow. The faux wood laminate counter tops didn’t mesh with his recollection of level four granite. The walls needed a coat of paint. The soothing antique white had faded to a sickly yellow.
How does someone run a business like this, he wondered.
A low, reverential whistle interrupted his silent consternation.
“Well, look at you,” the familiar voice gushed. “I’m still paying for those shoes, you know.”
He felt a twinge of remorse as he looked down at the Italian leather loafers. Whoever heard of tapping a line of credit for footwear? The moment quickly passed. The projection of success was a cornerstone principle to the manifestation of such.
“What price can you put on comfort,” he retorted.
“Sixteen hundred dollars and twenty eight cents.”
“Bah, it’s like walking on clouds. Besides, how can you possibly remember the exact amount?”
“Come on back,” his counterpart responded by way of an invitation.
Settling into the chair opposite the desk in his host’s office, he considered the barren wall to his right.
“Where are the awards?”
“Packed them away last year.”
“Why? I worked my butt off for those.”
“The game has changed, Junior. In case you haven’t looked around lately, people are hurting. Shoot, we’ve done our own share of hurting. Nobody cares about your sales records.”
For the first time, he really studied the face in front of him. The florescent lighting of the private office revealed deep creases that had remained hidden in the shadows of the dank reception area. The urgency in the red-rimmed, greenish-brown eyes was as palpable as the fatigue. There was an unmistakably hard edge to the countenance that seemed at odds with its hound dog expression. He was looking into a face that had seen too much combat.
“You didn’t invite me here to talk about my shoes.”
“You’ve always had a good head underneath that fifty dollar haircut. It’s time you started using it,” came the cryptic reply.
Sensing it was not his turn to speak, he let the silence expand before his counterpart continued.
“For starters, the cars, the vacations, the nights out … you’ve gotta knock all of that stuff off. It’s time you started hanging on to the dough that earned you all of those plaques,” he said, motioning to the empty wall.
“But-”
“No buts. Look around, Chief. This is what’s waiting for you if you don’t get it together.”
He clamped his mouth shut, deciding to let the enigma in faded blue jeans say his piece. The sooner he got out of here, the sooner he’d make it to the range. He didn’t have the slightest idea where the slice in his fairway driver had come from, but he needed to get it ironed out before the charity tournament on Saturday. Children's Leukemia this time? Diabetes Awareness? He couldn't remember.
“Moving on,” his appointed conscience interjected. “The real reason I asked you here today is to clear the air about the message you are promoting. Torpedo the kids' college fund if you like, we're resilient, but your clients deserve better from you.”
Kids, he thought as he folded his arms and sat back in the chair, bracing for the sanctimonious diatribe that was sure to follow. As in plural?
“Bear with me one second.”
His host pulled a worn, blue notebook out of one of the desk drawers.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for that,” he objected.
“Confiscated for your own good. Our own good. Let’s take a look at what you have been telling consumers, shall we?”
A brief pause accompanied the turning of pages.
“July 7th, 2004. You told Mr. Davis that if he didn’t buy now, he might soon be priced out of the market.”
“I was right! By December, prices in the neighborhood he was looking in had risen an additional ten percent –"
“And now it’s down forty percent. I know you thought you were looking out for his interests, but you only considered the short term prognosis.”
“That's not possible! Property values never decline in Scottsdale! We’ve been historically undervalued, especially compared to California. We’ve remained stable when other markets have tanked!”
“February 2, 2005. You told Mr. & Mrs. Flemming that the forthcoming bubble was a media myth.”
“Maybe not a myth, but it's definitely a media creation! If the talking heads wouldn't go on the news scaring the beejeezus out of buyers every night-”
“Right, Katie Couric created no-qual financing and the subsequent investor-driven spike of artificial demand that led to a massive housing glut and a skittish buyer pool. God help us if Anderson Cooper ever goes on air to tell us about the Easter Bunny.”
"You're telling me they're right?"
"You don't know the half of it," his colleague responded with chagrin.
“Yeah, yeah, well hindsight being twenty twenty …”
“March 8, 2006. You opined to Mrs. Sanjeve that the market still had some legs.”
“Things have slowed down, sure, but prices are still inching up,” he responded meekly.
“You had to know things were getting ready to go sideways. Prices may have held steady before the coming plummet, but days on market were starting to pile up. Homes that received five offers before the sign even got planted in the front yard were now taking thirty to sixty days to sell. The writing was on the wall, you just couldn't interpret the black and white truth through those rose-colored glasses of yours. Heck, you nearly got caught holding an investment property yourself.”
“I believe in our market. Scottsdale has always been the apex destination in Arizona. Our values don’t decline. Ever.”
“There’s that pre-bubble thinking again. Watch that reliance on past performance, Champ. Any market that relies on human buyers and sellers is subject to downs as well as ups. No more fortune telling, you understand me? From now on, save the tea leaves for the missus’s iced chai lattes.”
“She doesn’t drink chai,” he answered.
“She will.”
“Whatever,” was all he could muster in the face of such absurdity. The audacity of being contradicted about what his wife favored as a beverage caused the vein over his left temple to throb with indignation.
“August 18, 2007. Right before their portfolio took an irreparable beating with the jumbo loan market disintegration, you advised the Echols that they, quote, act now before interest rates take off.”
"Wait a minute, 2007? That one’s not on me, pal!”
“You know what? You're absolutely right. My apologies. Forgot which market I plucked you from for a second. Do me a favor and send in 2007-2008 on your way out, would you? He should be here by now. Looks a lot like you, just a little stressed out.”
He chuckled as a knock came at the door.
“That must be us now.”
Instead of the expected visitor, however, a young woman poked her head into the room.
“Hour’s up. I'm really sorry, but I need the room back now,” she said.
He looked at his younger self and gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders before nodding in the direction of the new arrival.
“Tracey here just got her license in the fall."
A rueful shake of the head accompanied another pause. He glanced down at the neatly packed duffel of personal affects at his feet, wondering for the umpteenth time if the makeshift home office would hold it all. He raised his head and found the eyes of his disbelieving doppelganger.
"Last piece of advice. Spare yourself the martyr act and list some freaking REOs.”
________________________________________________
*PLEASE NOTE NO CAREERS WERE HARMED DURING THE WRITING OF THIS FICTION*
Just stretching my creative legs a bit, people ;)
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Parked... if only to beat Lenza to the spot...(cause he is old, and probably snoring now)
This may be fiction, but there is a lot of truth in it. I'm waiting now for the mails from referral agents who survive on my referrals detailing their summer travel/vacation schedule.
The thought that I'll have to replace them with other referral agents in their absense never occurs to them.
Each year, as the existing agents eschew business for pleasure, the volume of their business is reduced as the buyers are referred to an ever widening network of available agents.
I'll never forget the words of an agent who took a month off for the beach rental. "Hey Lenn, I'm back and I'm broke".
What was I supposed to do with buyer referrals in his market area for the month of July?? Easy, I found other referral agents and added to my network.
When an agent takes weeks or a month off, they literally go out of business and have to begin all over when they return. I wonder if they ever give that fact a thought??
Paul, what a brilliant way to stretch your creative legs! You had me from the hungry springs in the couch. Clear the air - we don't sell homes. We help people find their happy place. Done right - doesn't matter what the RE market does. They'll still be happy.
Paul, you had me at "Sanka-stained fabric." You're incredibly gifted when it comes to writing!
:) as always.
Is this the first chapter of your new novel about the lessons learned in a financial debacle? Great read!
Were you present at my date night last night? Geesh. Hubby's whoooooooole agenda -- save more. (He's older... and wiser...) The best one I've read since I've been on AR a few months. Excellent.
Inna - I admire your gumption, but in this case, the Italian Stallion had an inside track. He was kind enough to humor my request for some editing help. :)
Lenn - A month? Shoot, last time I was away for any considerable period was a nine day stretch in French Polynesia which just so happened to coincide with a little something I call a honeymoon. I know some agents who take months, if not the whole summer off to go play, and I can only surmise that the trust fund life has it perks. The rest of us grunts have to keep on grinding.
Lee & Pamela - Thanks for checking it out. The fellow directly below you gave me some good advice on that particular passage (I had managed to mangle it somewhat in its raw incarnation), so additional kudos to him for a keen editorial eye.
Lenza - I'm sure you see a few of your thumbprints in the finished version. Not all, mind you. There really wasn't a viable insertion point for either the inebriated rodeo clown or the homophobic Jazzercise instructor, but I thank you nonetheless. ;)
Richard - Nothing screams success like Sanka.
Missy - Thanks.
Wow. This should be published.
Yes...many stupid things have been said in this industry in the run-up to the decline.
What a great read, Paul! I wanna know when the first body is found and Phillip Marlowe comes strolling into the room in a wrinkled trenchcoat and fedora!
This is really terrific...I think Active Rain needs to open up a Novella Category and you will be the first featured author:) Thanks for letting your creative juices flow and delivering your message so enjoyably.
Thank you, all. Heading to the woods for the day to channel my inner Paul Bunyan, so please accept my regrets in advance if I am not able to respond to comments individually. If you don't hear from me in 24 hours, call immigration. Bears take proof of citizenship seriously here in the AZ.
Nice writing and a poignant picture. Honestly, though, how many of us can't look back and feel regret and remorse over particular times in our lives? Maybe for every self-motivated deal a realtor did in the 2005 he should do a short sale now for a someone truly in distress; maybe a single mom who's been left with no money and an unsellable house, or a sick older person who can't clean their closets out. If a person needs to exorcise the demons of past, some good community service will help even the score.
Fun. I liked the 1940's like atmosphere.
Well, you have got to wonder what lies or spins the BROKER is going to tell the new girl to use during his Monday Agent Meetings to get the job done.
$50 haircut??? I think a John Edwardsesque $600 cut would be more appropriate to go with the shoes!
Loved the story-especially the twist at the end.
Paul, read this last night from FB on your Scottsdale blog - and it's still fantastic today! Seriously, are you missing your calling? Or are you working on your novel on the side and someday we'll all be able to say we knew you when :)
Paul,
Please tell us you have been published. You are a wonderfully gifted story teller. If writing is only a hobby, you must me fabulous at real estate!
Paul, great write up. You should be writing books.
Paul...Your writing style is riveting! I was drawn into the story immediately.
Featured in Cosmic Cow Pie
Wow! 'Nuff said. :)
Paul are you sure you're in the right business - man you a good. BTW love this comment of yours Bears take proof of citizenship seriously here in the AZ. Enjoy your day up north!
And I agree - who has taken vacations the last few years? Not many that I know of in this biz.
Hi Paul, Terrific to have our very own AR in-house author! Keep it up.
As I wrote previously on that lesser known creative outlet you call an "Outside Blog," Good Read! From the comments already written, keep on writing. I read a lot (more than I tend to tell) and you're one of the best I've had the pleasure of taking in. I should know as I live with the best who isn't published quite yet.
Other than that, keep on chewing bubble gum:)
Featured @ Club Chaos
You, my friend,are awesome! I love lurking on your blog. :-)
Love Chapter One! Bring on the next Chapter as the plot thickens!
What can I add to what's been said? You're a wonderful story teller and I can see this as a chapter in a book.
Good job!
I loved this Paul and as I said over on facebook, so much food for thought here.
You are a great storyteller and this post speaks a great bit to becoming a master of the market and not a master of real estate in general.
In - treeg - eeng
An interesting read. It's true that today's consumers really are looking for the service and what you can do for them. Past sales awards and recognition plaques are really passe.
As always, a great read!
Sparkler tricks are so 2007-08!
Loved this story and I am looking forward to seeing where it's headed. Good job!
Great story - I hope you are planning a sequal!
Great read. You should be writing for a living. I worked in and managed a my families Mack Truck dealership for many years. That business is a 24-7-52 affair, so I do not know what a real day off is. I love RE. There is no payroll to make, no employees to manage, and just me and my clients to worry about. Being available at all times is a way of life for me.
Paul - Although I am generally tempted to leave a smarta*s comment on your posts, I can only say this:
Well done, my friend. I sincerely enjoy reading your prose. You are a talent.
Paul: Great writing here!
Lenn: What you say is so true! I cannot imagine ever taking more than a week at a time away ... unless I had a partner or a team.
Could it be a Father son conversation with Junior questioning all he had learned by osmosis.?
Wow! That was really well written. I had no intention of reading it. And I read all the way to the end!
Thanks for the read! you just gained a blog follower!
Terrfic post, thanks for the good read. I'll be following you as well
Thanks!
TOm
Great post, I will definitely be waiting for the next one. Very good write up.
Thanks for the great post and creative diversion!
I like Leslie's comment above. You learn s much by the comments as the posts sometimes. Very cool.
Yesterday does not matter, only today. I have quit making predictions to people on what the market will do.
Paul - write more, damn it... I don't care how good you are at this whole real estate thing, man - you are wasting a great gift. That, my friend, is a sin.:-) Will wait for the sequel.
Lenza - me, mean? Nope, not at all. It's just so rare that I beat anyone to the proverbial punch nowadays, the excitement got the better of me. I sorry, and I am quite certain you don't snore.
Paul, I guess the bad part of this is that even the well meaning gave poor to bad advice.
Paul
Read the epistle with great delight.
One question: Why so optimistic?
Wow, gang. Just emerged from the woods to find this nice collection of comments waiting for me. Many thanks for reading and electing to leave your virtual footprint upon the thread. Nice little bow on a gift of a weekend for me. Best to you all for the coming week.
Funny and true...there are brokers and appraisers in our market that are insisting that prices are still increasing despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary...
Excellent as always Paul. I, of course, have a particular affintity for the ending. Not so much the advice, just the fact one exists. Upon reading the calls for a sequel, I developed a nervous tic and will apparently have to go back on my medication.
I've learned my lesson, Erik. No more adventures in multi-part stories in this venue for yours truly. Not until there's an ending, at least. I'll get you one on the albatross to which you allude ... eventually ;)