SuburbanDigs

For The Good Times

For tax purposes, $25 is the limit on Realtor gifts to clients. A nice bottle of wine; champagne; chocolates, perhaps. Or, something for the new kitchen...a book about gardening or home repair; a gift certificate for dessert at a local eatery.

You can't really demonstrate your affection for good people such as these for $25 and sometimes you really want to do more. When clients are both professional and super-nice, you thank God for them and you want to keep them in your life for ever and ever.

Have previously mentioned working with people who exhibit difficult behaviors during their deals -- which, given the stress, is not so surprising (and often they become your best friends after the pressure lifts) -- I must say that for every difficult experience, there are two or three or four good ones. These are deals where people ask you for advice and rely on your expertise and experience to see them through the tough spots -- anad thank you for your help. Underground oil tanks. Leaky roofs. Old chimneys. Falling down garages. Water in the basement. Asbestos. Mortgage issues. Every one of these impediments can turn a rosy deal into a murky one if not interpreted carefully and correctly for the client. You want to try to take some of the burden off them by giving them enough information to move forward without feeling suspicious or wary and to approach closing day feeling as if this was, indeed, the right move at the right time.

At the end of a recent deal, as we were standing on the front lawn of the very pretty home they had just purchased, my lovely clients -- first time buyers -- told me how happy they were, that the journey they had taken with me had been educational and even enjoyable. We'd seen some 20-25 houses together in 5 towns over several weeks. We'd participated in shooting a TV show. We'd gotten through the home inspection without too much angst. The outgoing owners even invited them over a week before closing. Now they were about to move into their new home. We hugged with real affection. They'd already referred friends to me, a lovely gesture. But, more than that, they exuded the confidence of homeowners just weeks after starting their search.

A $25 gift can't can't possibly express my affection and respect for their job well done. The deal was, in a word...priceless.

Do I Have a Life?

Interviewing a potential team member recently, she asked me: "Roberta, do you have a life?" Or, maybe she said, "Do you have time to enjoy your life" or something to that effect.

Yes, in fact, I do and I do. I'm so glad she cared and was sweet enough to ask.

Sometimes it may look as if I'm NOT having a life. Saturday and Sunday, it's usually down to the Type A individuals in the office who nod in appreciation of each other's 7-day-a-week work ethic. Others make a point of saying on Friday that they never work weekends and out they go to have fun doing something else.

True, sometimes I don't have that much fun because work is tiring, isn't it, and, at these moments in the car, when I can't listen to Jonathan Schwartz's American songbook on NPR or find a good country song on Sirius, I dream of simple pleasures. When you're out giving area tours and showing 20 houses a day and munching protein bars instead of having a good lunch and then writing and negotiating offers during everybody else's dinner hour, you do miss sunsets and lazy afternoons reading the New York Times. Two summers ago, I bought a hammock and situated it under a broad, leafy tree in my backyard. When I was in the car, I thought about that hammock no end. I managed to lie in it precisely two times. This past summer, I didn't think about it so much and used it for about 10 minutes. Things got too busy. Clients, after all, come first.

Today, just 13 days before the end of 2006, I actually have the day off. Well, three-quarters of it. I helped a very dear client choose interior colors for her house, but otherwise wasn't busy. I took a 2-hour nap. I helped my son study for a college exam. I made chicken stew. I shined silver candlesticks. And, in the recent past, aside from real estate, I've had a life producing two professional musicals. I've started a children's literacy program, Library in a Box, which brings me pleasure when my colleagues and I deliver new books to pre-schoolers. I had a life last week going shopping with my 25-year-old daughter. I'm having a great life being the first person to read and comment on my husband's first novel, now almost finished. And so on!

Real estate reality, as I told the prospective team member, is that one thing leads to another, but not by its own volition; you've got to move it ahead and that takes time. Resting on one's laurels isn't enough. Thinking ahead while doing tasks in the present is imperative if you want to excel and grow your business.

It may be hard for others to get this, but this is the creative part of what I do. The thinking about, writing about, and implementing business plans is the "have a life part." You can't really do it in a hammock, but so be it.

Coming soon: Roberta does Reality TV.

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

Buying and selling homes is so incredibly intense and scary that it messes with people's minds until they're not themselves. After 11 years in real estate, I can safely say I've met every personality type known to mankind. Or, so I thought until I encountered one so fierce and hard to read that all the screamers, worryworts, undecided, difficult and suspicious types (most just temporarily so!) put together did not equal the intensity and complexity of this client.

Civility, I believe, is especially important in professional life. I'm not a screamer. As I've gotten older, I've found my little voice if need be, to defend myself and to uphold my ethics. But I'm essentially unprepared for public displays of callousness, anger and cruelty. I can't abide violence of any kind, verbal or physical, and never have and thank heaven my children have been taught to feel the same. I've stopped going to really violent movies because I just can't take it anymore (and I was once a professional movie critic  who ate such movies for breakfast.)

I believe people should work things out and save their worst thoughts about others for private moments when nobody else is looking. Personally, I am fair minded. I am a good listener. I will give counsel when needed but not harrange, harrass or over-sell my point of view. I am a poor grudge bearer. I just don't have time for it. Negativity is such a burden.

Real estate is 90 percent pyschology and 10 percent business. I believe that's why so many women do so well in the profession. Not to be stereotypical, but we're natural hand-holders and nurturers and so many of our clients need constant attention on a personal level so deep that being a woman helps.

In the case of my mystery client, no amount of information, reason, sympathy, empathy or handholding seemed to work. Nothing was accepted on face value and I found myself unable to figure out exactly what I should be offering to do or to be as the deal progressed bumpily along, taking on an odd life of its own and glowing like toxic waste at the end.

Yet, like almost all of my deals, this one closed on schedule. Closure is the ultimate symbol of success in real estate. The deal's done. On to the next deal. And so it goes with this one. It's over.

No Rest for The Weary

Normal Realtor Weekend of Worry:

1. Our new listing comes on the market after being fluffed and finished -- it looks great! We have an agent open house with lunch just before the weekend and a public open on Sunday. It's December, after all, so although dozens of realtors checked it out, there are fewer buyers waltzing through. Still, after a handful of showings, possibly one or two offers. Our sellers have already bought something, so who can help but worry about finding a buyer fast for this cute little house, someone who won't come in too low because he's heard the market is soft?

2. Having become the unofficial Executive Rental Queen this year (my own designation, since I seem to have listed more expensive rentals than my colleagues), I'm nonetheless in despair over the failure of the last rental home, a vintage, front-porch colonial, to find a family that wants it. The owners carrying costs are staggering and the house has been empty for three months. This is the first weekend that I haven't heard from a just-transferred Wall Streeter, calling me from his cell phone as he traverses unfamiliar NJ communities and expresses enthusiasm about seeing the house he read about on Craigslist. I drop everything and open the house. Several have brought back their wives, who either don't want to move at all unless it's just like where they already are (newer and more suburban) or want to try living in more-fun Manhattan, Brooklyn or Hoboken. Located in leafy, upscale Glen Ridge, with a Top 10 rated school system and just 35 min by train to the City, this is a classic house  -- hardwood floors, working fireplace, 5 just-painted bedrooms, 2 baths so new that nobody's used them, a spiffy new kitchen with black granite counters, subway tile backsplash, stainless appliances, ceramic tile floor, and great new pantry with wine cooler. Still, no takers. Last weekend, a couple asked to meet me in my office to sign the lease, but when they got there, the wife wouldn't get out of the car. This weekend, zilch.

3. Owner of a large house needing renovation (my listing!) thinks she should have offers by now and calls me to vent. I explain that today's young buyers want new, new, new and certainly not really old, at least not when priced at $1.8 million. How can I convey to someone who's lived in a home for nearly 50 years how different her perspective is on renovations needed than the average upwardly-mobile buyer? I can't, actually.

Tomorrow, Monday, much more to worry about than today.