Seriously. Why is this not the mandatory opening discussion of all Real Estate classes? Respectfully followed by “Lesson 2: You Will Lose Count At The Number Of Times You Regret Your Decision To Go Into Real Estate.” Perhaps these two topics were covered in the fine print that no one ever reads. Maybe it was at the beginning of the Real Estate exam? “Please verify your name, address, social security number, and that you understand big fat crying sessions will be in your future.” Or was it at the very end? “Click here to complete your exam and to acknowledge that you’re aware you’ll ruin your mascara in your car at least once a month.” Honestly, I was so nervous that it could have been in blinking marquees and I wouldn’t have noticed. Between the 347 songs I’ve downloaded on my iPhone and countless updates I’ve done over the years, I still have no idea what the Apple Agreement even remotely says. (What’s that? A Realtor that doesn’t read the fine print? Let’s be real, downloading a song is small beans compared to the investment of buying property. I assure you, I read the fine print on all my contracts, forms, and disclosures.)
Disclosures. If there is even the slightest chance that the home you’re buying ever contained lead-based paint, you get a disclosure. If a property had any inside pets, you get a disclosure. If you hire my boyfriend, Tyler Helton with Helton Home Inspections (shameless plug) to conduct your home inspection, yep, you guessed it. There’s a disclosure for that, too. There are so many disclosures in Real Estate designed to protect your health, safety, and financial security, but none to even give you an FYI that your mental health may tank to the gutter? Rubbish.
I’ve had clients that have left midway through a contract or required my attention during family events and it turned out to be a total waste of time, which frustrated me to tears. I’ve sobbed over time and effort spent trying to earn someone’s business, only to turn around and see someone else’s sign in their yard. I’ve handled transactions that have had some very complex problems with no quick fix or had to deliver bad news to a client on a day that was already particularly hard for them, and their backlash wrecked me. And it’s not just clients. No no, not just clients. Other agents have brought out the waterworks when they’ve taken advantage of my greenness, attacked my integrity, mocked my softness, and copied my style. To those agents - I may cry behind closed doors as a result of your words and actions, but you’ll be the one crying when I come out on top! MUAHAHAHAHA!
Sorry, I got carried away. But wouldn’t that be nice? Anyway...
My biggest and most memorable near ugly snot cry occurred recently. I had spent weeks with some buyers, a retired couple looking to relocate and downsize. I showed them home after home only to rule out more than they ruled in. They found one that they could “live with”, but wanted the night to sleep on it before deciding whether or not to submit an offer. I knew they weren’t totally satisfied, but it was their decision, not mine. The next day I noticed a home they were curious about had finally hit the market. I rearranged my schedule so they could see it right away. The moment we walked in the door, the wife said “This! This is HOME!” I immediately got goosebumps and started to tear up. Within the hour, we were writing a contract. The next morning, when I called the couple to let them know their offer had been accepted, her reaction brought back my goosebumps. She was so excited, she could barely choke out her words. Her voice cracked as she told me I’d made her day. I kept my composure until the call ended and that’s when I lost it. Big ol’ crocodile tears came streaming down my cheeks. Me. I had made someone’s day.