New Year's Res

I'm constantly making new resolutions, setting new goals, all of that self-improvement-y type stuff. I'll admit that somehow the thought of a fresh start, a whole brand-new, un-used year stretching out before me gets to me--in a good way. So no, I'm not in the camp of people who think New Year's resolutions are corny, unneeded, or silly. In fact, I've been known to have kept/fulfilled a few of my own New Year's resolutions.

2008 New Year's Resolution:

To post more to this blog. Also, I have a title change in mind for No Vacancy NYC--something a bit catchier. So I'll probably re-launch this blog under that name sometime in the first month of 2008.

In order to post more, it seems I'll have to go into stealth mode at the office (a bit scary, and not the ideal scenario for obvious reasons.) OR I could simply commit to 15-30 minutes of posting per day. . .which is tough in its own way, because when I'm not working, the last thing I want to do is think about and write about. . .work. Even for 15 minutes.

Speaking of work, today I got out of work early. But damn, was I surprised at the amount of calls I got both today and on Christmas Eve. Forget about real estate for a day or two, people, and celebrate the damn holidays. Sheesh.


Happy 2008, everyone!

Real Estate, A Dangerous Business

By now pretty much everyone in NY who watches the news or reads the local bird cage liners has heard of the grisly murder of "Broker to the Stars" Linda Stein. Now apparently her alleged killer, her assistant who confessed, is claiming that some guy dressed as ninja did the deed.

Whomever killed Ms. Stein, frankly I'm surprised brokers don't get attacked more often. Let's face it, brokers are in the same neighborhood as used car salespeople on the most disliked professionals list. Only ambulance chasing lawyers and telemarketers are lower, and I could be wrong about that, so don't quote me.

Think about it. Brokers often get paid what seems like a lot of money for doing what seems like very little. (In reality, there are few easy deals, but most consumers don't see the nitty gritty of what real estate agents do, so they think we're overpaid).

Brokers are also vulnerable. In what other profession, besides perhaps being a TV reporter or some sort of actor or adult film star, is your picture on the internet? Even worse, your contact info and even parts of your schedule is often online, in order to attract customers to, say, an open house you may be running.

A motivated stalker could do serious damage with this info. In the end, even an exclusive agent like Ms. Stein--someone in that rareified realm of brokers to the rich and famous, someone who should have been nearly inaccessible-- was surprisingly easy to get to.

Scary stuff. Scary enough to make me cancel an evening appointment when I learned the space didn't have electricity.

I Haven't Quit and I Saved A Friend From HELL

Rumors of my demise have been much exagerrated and aren't the least bit accurate. Truth be told, I've simply been unmotivated to face my "home office" and blog after a day dealing with the various real estate snafus and petty office bullshit. Blogging from work could get me canned. And so it goes.

My good deed for the year has been done, my friends. I saved an old college pal of mind from Broker Hell. He was kind enough to check out this blog...he was curious about the biz and perhaps wanted to see what his ol pal (me) had been up to. In fact, he'd been making plans to get his real estate license and take a stab at the commissioned life. It would give him time to pursue creative interests, a super-flexible schedule, blah blah blah (I've called bullshit on that urban myth in the past).

One afternoon sitting around reading this blog apparently cured him of all of those fanciful notions.

And I quote (with misty tears in my eyes...tears of JOY):

but listen, I started reading your blogs intensely and they made quite an impression on me. So much so that I decided NOT to become a sales agent!

Well, I'm half kidding. Well no ... about 66.6% kidding.

While your blogs did get me thinking quite a bit, I ended up not becoming an agent in favor of staying at my current job as they offered me a promotion

Way to go!!! Seriously, I'm thrilled that someone actually got something out of my pissy little rants.

Makes it easier to fall asleep at night, knowing for certain that Broker Hell has claimed one less soul.

No Sure Deals

I thought a deal on a particular vacancy was imminent. Then some associate of the owner's offers them several hundred more dollars a month. I don't blame them for taking the offer, but it sucks for me (and for the person who wanted the space, but can't afford to match the other offer). Ugh. Another payday potentially down the drain.

Property Grunt Gives His Blessing to No Vacancy NYC

Lazy slacker that I am, I just now, as in, today, getting around to posting that Property Grunt likes this blog! Really likes it!

Grunt, just so you know, some of the snarkier, nastier tales of woe are in the NoVacancyNYC archives. I encourage you and everyone else to spend some time savoring my past brilliance. Ha ha. That was meant to be ironic. As always, I am working on yet more tales of woe and misery to bring you, explained in such a way that won't get me canned.


href="http://propertygrunt.blogspot.com/2007/09/then-came-another.html">

Dammit I can't get that link thingy to work!!

I Heard a Rumor. . .

. . .That some brokers are charging outrageous fees for rentals. Like waaaaaayyyy beyond the standard 15% of the first year's rent that's common in Manhattan. Perhaps this will taper off until next summer, now that August is behind us.

The most I've ever charged (so far) was 20%. Well, actually we negotiated it down a couple of percentage points. Keep in mind, though, that the apartment was under $800 a month AND rent-stabilized. And gut renovated. So in other words, a rare deal worth every penny to the person who took it and probably won't move out for a decade.

Those August Days

August had me swamped. I was adjusting to a new workplace, dealing with a very busy time of year, and had many to-do's, both personally and professionally.

I know I've been a bad little blogger by not posting several times a day (or even daily!) and providing tons of linkage. Hopefully I won't be so MIA from now on, and we can pick up the snarky commentary where it left off. Dunno about the links, though. Seems other blogs like Curbed and Property Grunt cover that territory pretty well. Pathetic stories of broker hell? Those, my friends, I can provide.

In other news, I'm thinking of renaming this blog "Broker Bitch." Bitch--it can be a verb, a noun, or an adjective. Gotta love a word so flexible and adaptable. Woof!

Credit Ratings are a Huge Scam

I've always known this intuitively. Now, after running my own free credit report , I have proof. The report claims I have three dings on my credit report--all several years old, and all relatively minor. As in a credit card payment that was late once and a couple of more similar items. (My first couple of years post-college were dicey). I have approximately a DOZEN accounts "in good standing."

I went ahead and paid about $8 bucks to get my FICO score. Yeah, the report itself is free, but if you want to see precisely where you fall on the bell curve, then you have to pay up. Anyways, my score was ranked "fair to poor." Uh, ok. Three small, old dings on my credit report (one of which I'm disputing because I settled it years ago), and a dozen accounts that have been kept current. I don't carry high balances on my credit cards, etc. But yet somehow, several years of keeping current on bills counts for nothing.

What a fucking scam.

I guess this is yet another system you have to be an engineer or attorney to know how to manipulate.

My empathy for people who have shakey credit (I see it all the time in this business) is renewed yet again. A couple of bad patches or a forgotten bill, and you'll be punished for years heretofore.

Real Estate Years = Dog Years?

I was speaking with someone from another company who was trying to recruit me. He asked me how long I'd been in the real estate business.
"Almost two-and-a-half years," I replied.

"Wow, that's a long time. You know in real estate, they say every year counts double."

Kind of like dog years? (I think it but don't say it, though I'm sure he would not have minded).

This is the first I've heard of such a concept. But it makes sense. You work six or seven days a week, so right there you are putting approximately 50 to 100 extra days (or half-days, at least) on the job, assuming you work 50 weeks a year. Odds are good you work 51 or even 52 weeks out of the year, but I digress.

My boss has been known to make disapproving comments at those taking off on, say, New Year's Eve. Government holidays such as MLK, President's Day, or Columbus Day? Forget having those off. That's when you're supposed to be even more available, because people are theoretically using the extra day off to look for apartments. I find people generally don't do the apartment hunt on July 4, Memorial, or Labor Days. Thank the Lord for small miracles.

Speaking of the Lord, I'm not a religious person, but I've come to appreciate the Jewish holidays, because the real estate biz really slows down during that time. Even if you aren't observing anything, it's nice to have a lull every now and then.

So yes, real estate has a way of creeping into every day of your life. People will call you when you're off, or late at night because they think it's okay. Holidays, nights, and weekends don't belong to you 100%. Ever.

Even in your off time, people want to talk shop, want real estate market predictions, etc. They seem to think I have a crystal ball and can predict the future. If that were true, do you really think I'd be doing this for a living? Now I think I sort of understand what doctors and lawyers must feel like. But at least they're paid decently.

For what I'm putting up with and considering what I'm giving up, I should be making triple what I'm currently making.

Relocation Blues

I was reading a New York Times article on what it's like to be an American living in Shanghai. The role the real estate agent took in the whole relocation process really struck me.

And I quote:

The first order of business was to find a place to live. I had researched brokers on the Web and called one when we arrived. She came right over with a van and took us on a tour of the city. Rental brokers in Shanghai, it seems, are your hosts and hostesses. Not only do they find you lodging but they introduce you to the city, serve as advisers and translators, and continue to look after you and your every need for the duration of your lease.

Wow, just wow. My clients are lucky to get a photocopied sheet of paper with their super's number scribbled on it and a list of who to call to get their utilities hooked up. Assuming, of course, I don't forget to hand off this all-important document at the lease signing.

This part about killed me:

WHEN you rent a place in Shanghai, the landlord gives you presents. This is a terrific shock for a New Yorker. My agent told me I could ask for special furniture, TVs, gym memberships — the landlady would actually take me shopping.

Can you imagine this sort of thing in New York? Hell, if anything, it's landlords who want their asses kissed and palms greased after the lease is signed or a sale completed. A bottle of wine or a gift basket? Perhaps, but usually it's the agent who provides such a gift to the client, or, in some cases, the owner. Often, the owner gets a nice present from the agent in the form of a fat kickback. "Listings fees" or "referral fees," they're called.

Well, China might not have all of the comforts of the developed world, at least not yet, but it seems they conduct real estate transactions in a much more civilized and humane manner than we'd ever consider here in New York.

Test Passage and Other Changes

I passed the brokers test. I may have to find a new place to park my license since the boss didn't seem to take the news of my being offered another job very well. For some reason, I can't log onto my work email account. I wonder why?

What is it like to work on a salary? I've almost forgotten. Seriously, it's been years since I punched a clock, had real benefits, paid vacation, or knew precisely how much money I made per paycheck. Initially, I didn't intend to live this way. It was just damn hard finding a decent job in my original field of work, or any other, for that matter. Real estate was a fallback job, and I never expected to get so used to being able to work my own hours (which turned out to be 7 days a week most weeks), make my own schedule (which included people calling me at all hours), and be responsible for witholding my own taxes. (Hint: it pays to put money back for taxes, but no agent I know actually does this).

The whole "flexibility" thing isn't as great as it sounds. What good is making your own schedule when you're constantly on call? What is the benefit of theoretically being able to take extended time off when doing so could wreck your cashflow? Other agents will practically try to steal your business from you out from under your nose when you're present. If they get wind that you're on leave, fuggedaboutit. (Luckily, the agents in my office are not like this. We're the rare realty firm that works as a team and we don't try to screw one another over. The screwing over, or attempted screwing over, happens mostly in the field, by other asshole agents at asshole firms).

At any rate, the realtor's life is one of constantly being on edge. On edge that you're going to miss that million-dollar client because you slept in for an hour or dared take a day at the beach (Indeed, a weekend in the Hamptons once cost me a deal I'd been working on for a few weeks. This after having zero weekends off for well over a year. The one weekend I took off was the one where the people found another apartment on their own). On edge that another broker's gonna screw you over, or that a client will disappear on you. I could go on, but it'd just depress me.

As for the salaried life, I may yet get a chance to find out, if this job interview I have in a few days turns into more than a polite chat with me sweating it out while wearing the female equivalent of a "monkey suit." I don't want to say too much, but it's at times like these that keeping this blog "anon" seems like a smart decision. A few people have encouraged me to "pimp my blog" and link it up, etc. It's not time for that. Yet.

As for the broker's course--well, I finished it, took the test at the state building downtown, and am still waiting to hear if I passed or not. I feel fairly confident that I did pass, so if I flunk it'll be muy embarrassing. I'm not 100% sure what I'm going to actually do with said broker's license (that should be obvious from the previous paragraph of this post), but feel that having it is better than not. Especially considering that next year they're requiring 75 hours of course time. To hell with that noise! It was worth getting over with.

The 75 hour thing is nonsense. We got out of class early every freakin' session. It was obvious they were struggling to fill the time alloted. One instructor even said they were scrambling to figure out what to teach in a 75 hour brokers course, because they barely had enough material to teach now.

My vote is for them to talk more about real life scenarios, not stupid arcane legal terms that we'll never see again. There are so many things that I don't know, even after taking the course. But at least I'm smart enough to have a network of resources--both people and references--to turn to when I don't know an answer. People who know much less than me become brokers and open up their own companies every day. That, my friends, should scare you.

The Mystery of the Disappearing Client

Every real estate agent has a litany of stories about magically disappearing clients. Some clients run you around for days or months. You show them everything on the market, but they manage to find the one "by owner" listing out there and cut you out of the loop. All of a sudden, they won't call you nor will they return your phone calls.

People do weird things when money's at stake, and since real estate is such a personal decision for pretty much anybody, you get even more weirdness. The personal, the financial, important life decisions--any one of these is a big deal, but put them all together and you have a perfect breeding ground for irrationality. Granted, sometimes we realtors can make money off of this manic irrationality. But just as often, maybe even more often than not, this irrationality is at the root of us getting screwed. Which I'm sure is poetic justice to many--apparently realtors are now ranked below used cars salespeople on the list of "most hated professions."

I've learned in this business that people who will actually own up to being shits are few and far between. Most people just hope you'll forget about them, which is often kinda hard to do when you've gotten so friendly with them AND your next pay day was hinging on the deal you were putting together for them. A very small subset of clients in my time working in real estate have had the decency to call and say "Thanks for your work and all your guidance, but we're buying something else." Or "We've decided not to move now." Fine, fair enough. As annoyed and yes, hurt as I might have been, I appreciated the honesty.

Clients acting badly. Hmmmm. This is precisely why I've pushed my career more in the direction of representing the landlord and/or owner. There is enough bullshit to go around in this line of work--I'd rather know I have the listings, because quite frankly, people looking for real estate in this city are a dime a dozen. Actual inventory is the hot commodity, IMHO.

Recently I had a deal going on a retail space. The main person on the deal called me daily, often multiple times, even when specifically asked NOT to. Seriously, if I say I'll call you when there's news, please take me at my word. At any rate, it seemed the deal was going to close pending a few pieces of paperwork. Until . . .

I haven't heard from them since last week, and finally told the owner as much. The owner knows how these things go, and we both know they may well turn up yet. In the meantime, I continue to show the space, and we already have another offer in. If the first set of people lose out on it because they chose to disappear without a word as to why, then it's their loss.

The End is Nearing

Soon I'll be done with the dreader brokers' course. It's such a snooze fest, it isn't even worth writing about.

In other news, I'm working on closing a deal where one of the principals has awful credit. I'm crossing my fingers that the other involved parties' credit ratings aren't horrible, and the owner is feeling kindly on the day I present the reports to him

Note to New York State

Dear New York State,

One does not generally expect much in the way in efficiency in government. However, even by this low standard, the DOS is lacking in one very specific area. (I'm sure you're lacking in others, but I have other more pressing matter to attend to. Like conditioning my hair.)

Anyways, your department need to make it easier for potential brokers to take their licensing tests. There are not enough time slots available when I try to schedule my test via your nifty online test scheduler device. Several of my colleagues concur. Personally, I am trying for a mid-July timeslot, and have been for over a week. So far, my only option is to accept a June time slot and take the test before I have completed the class. Now tell me, how much sense does that make? Oh, wait, on second thought, nevermind. Bureacracy and logic don't have much in common, now do they?

Sincerely,

Your loyal tax payer

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

Who needs sleeping pills when you have real estate school? I swear, the brokers' course has been one big snooze-fest. Today we went over the exact same crap as we did in another, different class last week. Can anyone say "waste of time"?

Luckily, none of the material seems too difficult, and I don't think the test will be overly difficult.

Brokering 101: Above the Law?

What did I learn in my initial foray into becoming a licensed real estate broker in the fine state of New York?

As one might expect, there are all sorts of laws, rules, and regulations. Many of which I have seen flauted, ignored, or craftily side-stepped in my realtively brief tenure on the job. And why not? The maximum penalty for breaking any of the laws set forth in Article 12-A of the Real Property Law is a year in jail and a $1000 fine.

Let me let that sink in. An untoward agent can bilk someone out of millions of dollars. If prosecuted under the Real Property Law, the most time that agent can spend in jail is a year, and the MOST money they will pay in fines is $1000. Unbelievable.

Truly, this explains a lot of what I've seen in the business. Getting caught is one thing. Getting in any real trouble is quite another. Here are a few things that could get a broker or agent in hot water:

* Tips to supers and doormen for help on specific deals? Illegal.

* Set times for office meetings? Illegal. (If you want people to show up, one experienced person says, serve breakfast).

* Requiring agents to work certain set hours? Illegal--all real esate agents are independent contractors, not employees.

* Using someone who is not a licensed real estate agent to show apartments? Illegal!

How many times have I seen these rules sidestepped or simply ignored? Too many to count.

I have to laugh. I remember taking the course to become a licensed salesperson and sincerely thinking the things they taught us mattered and would be used in my day-to-day working life. Talk about a huge miscalculation on my part. Out there in the real estate world, it's every agent for herself. Returning to the classroom and the idealized academic pontificating is enough to make a battle-worn agent roll her eyes.

To Broker or Not to Broker: Decision Made

Alright, after much waffling, I decided to go ahead and take the brokers' course. This will fulfill my continuing ed requirements and upgrade my license to the next level--to broker-- which could, in theory, allow me to open my own real estate firm. If there are other uses for this license, I'm sure they'll tell us about them in class. Another cool thing is that the brokers' license can be transferred to several other states, so if I eventually move away to Arkansa, Colorado, Connecticut, Georgia, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, or West Virginia, I won't have to become an outlaw who practices real estate wihout a license. Ha!

I'm starting classes tomorrow evening. I wonder if I'll run into anyone I know there. Should be interesting. I have no idea what my higher-ups think of this, as I haven't run it by them yet.

In other news, things have been incredibly slow with my commercial listings. I need to speak with the landlord and see if he'll lower the prices.

Summer in the City: Pros

Pretty soon I'll be on here complaining about how much I hate summer in the city. How depressing it is blah blah blah. For now, while the weather and my mood are both still mild, I'll go ahead and mention some of the things I like about summer in the city:

* Mister Softee. Get your minds out of the gutter! The ice cream truck, of course. I even like the jingle, which the news said was the second most complained about noise when people call into 311, the city's non-emergency information/complaint line. I love the sound and have been known to chase Mister Softee trucks through my neighborhood in search of that perfect sprinkles dipped cone.

* Flowers in the park. I must say the Parks Department does a beautiful job of maintaining Central Park and changing out the flower beds frequently to reflect the season. Tulips recently had their run, and they were gorgeous.

* SummerStage. Free concerts in the park. 'Nuff said.

* The way the City gets really quiet and you almost feel like you have it to yourself over big holiday weekends.

* Rollerblading around different places.

* This doesn't happen everywhere in Manhattan, but sometimes where I live the neighborhood residents do outdoor barbeques. It's probably illegal, but they're festive and smell delicious.

* The scent of honeysuckles and jasmine wafting in the air when you pass area parks, especially at night.

That's all I can think of for now. Oh, and getting out of the City during the summer is even more special than during other times of the year. I always feel like I've really escaped something!

Taking the Lazy Way Out

I think I'm going to be lazy and forgo pursuing the broker's license. So many reasons.

I don't feel like dropping $500 bucks on it. I hate running around after work to stupid boring classes. I don't know if it would do me any good anyways. Mostly, it's because it's 44 plus hours of my life I will NEVER get back. The last thing I want to do in my free time is real estate stuff. Blech!!!!

So I'll just go with a garden variety online continuing ed course and call it a day. Of course, certain people in my life are disappointed in me and think not taking the broker's course is a mistake. Like I used to say to my parents, "It's my life, not yours!" Ha!

Continuing Scam, I Mean, Education

It's time for me to renew my license. Yes, every two years, in order for an agent to keep her NY real estate license current, she has to do continuing ed. Agents get to waste 22.5 hours most don't have and pay nearly $200 bucks for the privilege. The state gives a one-year grace period. As long as you're done with the class hours within three years, you're cool. Still, how annoying! Wasting hours of your life and a chunk of money in classrooms or with online classes. It's not cheap--a couple of hundred bucks is a royal ripoff, in my professional opinion. And the last thing I need is to be stuck in a room with people I can't stand for hours on end, and getting screwed financially in the process. That's what open houses are for!

Because it's so bothersome, I was thinking of killing two birds with one stone and getting my broker's license. The broker's course fulfills the continuing ed requirement, and also would allow me to open my own firm, which I imagine could happen if I ever went completely off my rocker. The only thing that worries me is my boss' reaction to me getting said license. They might think I'm preparing to leave or whatever. They're always eyeing me suspiciously anyways, and have made paranoid comments about me leaving in the past. In all honestly, I really don't want to open my own firm. My superiors are good people, but I don't look at them and say "Yes! It is my goal in life to be just like THEM!" In fact, having my own business sounds suspiciously like hell on earth to me. Anyone who opens their own biz thinking they'll work less--well, the joke's on you, buddy!

But I figured if I'm on the hook for this stupid course anyways, and the brokers' course only costs a bit more, I may as well force myself to go for it. It's a good deal--twice the annoyance for just a bit more money. Hey, that sounds like a New York apartment!

The Check is On its Way

I was expecting to get paid this week. It's been awhile between paydays, and this one promised to be a particularly healthy one. As per usual, my landlord was expecting to get paid last week. Naturally, I don't want to call them yet to discuss the latest pesky problems in my apartment. I feel sheepish telling them, yet again, that "the check's (almost) in the mail." Yes, my landlord is damn near a slumlord, but I still don't want them, or anyone else, for that matter, on my back if I'm a few days late on a payment. There's something just wrong about a slumlord feeling they have the upper hand morally on me, even if only for a few days.

Oh the joys of working on commission and doing so at a company where the payroll department is one overworked person who cuts checks on seemingly arbitrary days. The fee check from my most recent deal was in my boss's hands Tuesday. Yet for some reason, my paycheck from that deal won't be in my hands until Monday. Perhaps. If I'm lucky.

Often, I have to flat-out ask the people in charge "am I getting paid today?" In truth, there have been days when I've gone into the office solely to pick up a paycheck, only to find that said check isn't going to be cut that day, despite the fact that it's supposedly payday.

As you might imagine, this creates resentment. I'm sure the bosses have been paid already for my most recent deal. Their cut is probably already secure in their personal accounts. Meanwhile, I have to suffer through the weekend and knowing how many bills are screaming for my attention.

Our payday has changed so often--first it was Fridays, then Mondays--that I no longer am as hesitant to ask my boss for advances or simply to cut my check between official paydays when I really need it. This time, though, I will tough it out. If anything, not having money in hand will keep me from doing stupid things this weekend, like buying loads of junk food or blowing a wad of cash on designer knockoff clothes. Whoever said that "whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger" had the right idea.

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Enough Already With the Stalking!

For the record, I'd like to tell whoever is phonestalking me with calls to my cell at 6:30 in the morning, and also with 1 a.m. calls to Kindly FUCK OFF.

I know the doer has to be a client or a broker because my love life ain't that interesting.

That is all.

Manhattan or Bust. . .At Your Own Risk

A wise woman used to warn me to be careful what I wished for. "You just might get it," she'd say, with an arched brow and a knowing glint in her eye.

I should be so bold to say such things to some of my clients. Some people will do anything to stay in Manhattan, and some of them indeed live to regret their "Manhattan or Bust" ambitions.

A few months back I rented a steal of an apartment-- a renovated two bedroom for under $1500. Rent stabilized. Near transit, Central Park, etc. The renters were new to the City. They were kinda endearing--two sweet girls fresh out of undergrad, in search of jobs and doing their Big City Phase at the expense of their parents, whose pockets were deep enough to pay for the apartment until the renters landed jobs of their own. The girls hadn't been worn down or made cynical by this place. At least not yet.

They saw the unit shortly after dusk at a packed open house. They wanted it instantly. Another broker brought them, and I advised them all to check out the neighborhood in the night hours. I told them that though I lived nearby and had for several years with pretty much zero problems, that they should do as I do: take a cab home if they're out late. Watch their backs. Carry themselves with confidence.

They were eager. It was a good deal. I'd warned them, and assumed their broker had as well. We signed leases that same week.

Fast forward a few months. Through the grapevine I hear that the apartment is about to go back on the market because the girls want out. The place the duo loved so much is now a Life in the Big City Lesson to them. They wanted to be in Manhattan so badly, they underestimated how much of transition they could take in their still very transitional neighborhood. Forget that new bistros are popping up every couple of blocks in the 'hood and that clothing stores will soon outnumber dollar stores.

Even the landlord admits that particular block is rough. Someone was shot just steps from the girls' building a few weeks back. A makeshift shrine is still there. Just today, crossing the neighborhood park towards my own building, which is around the corner from theirs, I heard what I assumed were gunshots. Turns out that some kids were jerking around with fireworks, but notice that I assumed the worst. That's the reality of where we live. I guess they either didn't see that reality when they did their research (assuming they did research at all) or perhaps they chose to ignore any warning signs.

I don't know exactly what the last straw was for the girls, but I do wish them luck. I respect the fact that they rented a "cheaper" place with the intention of being able to afford their rent themselves once they had jobs. They easily could have rented a $3000 apartment and let their parents foot the bill indefinitely. Now they'll trade space for peace of mind. If only such tradeoffs weren't necessary. Welcome to life in the big city, girls.

Phone Rules, Part # 78849893981291801

Dear Potential Customer,

When leaving a message for me, please do not assume I have magical powers and can sense your number telepathically, especially considering that my phone was OFF and went directly to voicemail when you called. Please take five seconds to leave your number.

Please do not mumble. Slow, clear speech is appreciated. Especially if you have an accent. God Bless America and all of that, but the fact is I sometimes cannot understand you. Please speak clearly to at least give me a shot at comprehending your words.

I am not interested in listening to your life story, dissertations on your real estate needs, or tales of woe. If you start to ramble, your message will promptly be deleted.

Finally, one message is really enough. I don't need to be reminded that I haven't returned your call yet. Take a number and get in line. You're not alone.

Sincerely,

Your Friendly Local Real Estate Agent

Damn Progress

Jackhammers, jackhammers, everywhere. For the past few weekdays, I've been waking up to the sound of jackhammers outside my building. Lovely. I know they're "just doing their job," but the guys don't even have the courtesy to start hammering away after 8 a.m. They start at 7-something, maybe earlier. Earplugs only partially help. It's bad enough living with the noise. Try marketing an apartment when such construction is going on all around. Not easy, trust me.

About two or three avenues over, there is a new development going up, and that racket can be heard at all hours as well. Yet another new develpment was making our lives at the office miserable for a few months. And I'll post another day on that behemoth condo that is going up at the top of Central Park in Harlem. It's just gross to look at. Doesn't fit the scale of the neighborhood one bit. How did this happen? Sometimes I hate progress.

I especially hate it when upon flipping on NY1, I learn that four buildings in Brooklyn are slated to be demolished today, despite the fact that the stupid stadium and redevelopment project doesn't have an offical "go" from whoever decides such things. The possibility that these buildings will be knocked down and the land will sit vacant while the development plans languish is a real one. Please don't even get me started on that wretched Atlantic Yards scheme in Brooklyn. Arrogance, greed, and a lack of foresight come to mind. It's enough to make you want to crawl back into bed, if only you could shut your eyes and not hear and feel the horrible pounding of jackhammers.

Nice Try , But There is a Fee

Sorry for being MIA. I have been fighting a cold, had company in town, and skipped town for a few days. Now I'm back in commission just in time to file my tax return. Oh joy.

Broker fees are an inevitablity of renting an apartment in New York City. Even if you somehow luck into an apartment and don't pay a fee, you will likely see several places that require one. Most of your friends will pay the dreaded brokers' fee. Don't feel bad--even brokers often pay the dreaded broker's fee.

Why? Well, the laws are written in such a way that they favor tenants. Let's say I decide to stop paying rent. It will take my landlord six months to a year to be legally rid of me. He can't just lock me out. He has to go through the housing court system, which takes awhile.

So renters, in essence, are paying their brokers to perform due diligence for the landlords. If it sounds screwed up, it kinda is. Landlords rarely pay brokers' fees on residential rentals. They don't have to--the laws of supply and demand show that housing in NYC is in enough demand that renters will pay fees. We are getting paid by you to vet your application, run your credit, and essentially verify that you aren't a deadbeat or a deadbeat-in-training. That's also why so many apartment applications require so much paperwork: tax returns, bank statements, employment verification letters, and so on.

Many people bitch about this when they first start apartment hunting here.

"Why is there so much paperwork? It's easier to get a mortgage back home than it is to rent a crummy apartment here," some say.

Well, I can't disagree. Look at it this way--once you're done with this place, securing housing anywhere else in the U.S., with the possible exception of San Francisco, will feel incredibly easy.

None of these realities stop clients from sometimes trying to talk me out of my own payday.

A recent example:

"I really like this place. There's no fee on it, right?"

"There is definitely a fee. I don't post "No Fee" ads and I mentioned the fee to you on the phone when we made this appointment."

The guy looks defeated.

I shrug and say, "Nice try."

We both laugh. He doesn't rent it, but someone else who sees it after him does.

Supply and demand, folks.

Courtesy Call (Or a Lack Thereof)

This broker rides my ass for two weeks. Leaves long messages, keeps me on the phone chatting. I try to be polite, but soon enough I am dodging her calls. I tell her not to call me; that I’ll call her. Which is fair enough . . .I don’t yet have access to the space she claims her client is so eager to see. So there’s no reason for us to talk until I do have access.

It’s not like I enjoy talking to her, plus there is absolutely nothing to say until I have keys and can make an appointment for her and her client. She sounds like the stereotypical New York City Broker: thick local accent, a bit abrupt, very pushy and probably well over 40. I’ll be she smokes, too. I could be wrong, but she just sounds that way.

She gets snippy with me when I don’t call her to tell her there’s no news. Apparently she feels that leaving me multiple messages will change things, which it won’t. Finally I get access to the space. She’s very insistent on a morning appointment—the earlier the better because this "wonderful" client can only see things in the morning. Thinking to myself that I don’t get out of bed for early appointments, especially not for pushy a-holes like this broad, I offer her 10:30 one morning and she says fine. I’m glad this place is only about a seven-minute walk from my apartment.

So I get there. Soon enough I’m wishing the super would hurry and show up. It’s a cold morning. This place is in between a church and a liquor store in Harlem. Apparently the church has some outreach program, and all of its recipients are milling around outside waiting for the doors to open. Some of them cruise by me and get a bit too close as they’re asking for my spare change. Some of them start arguing loudly with each other. Uncomfortable, much?

Five minutes pass, then ten. Nobody but me and the locals in front of this storefront. This woman who was so “generous” with her phone calls to me before doesn’t bother to call me and say she and her amazing client are running late. I call this broker. She doesn’t pick up.

The super shows up. We look at the place, and still this winner of a broker hasn’t shown up or even bothered with a “Sorry, we’re running late” type of courtesy call. I call again. No answer. Fine. It’s been well over 20 minutes, so I bid the super farewell and head off to start the rest of my day. I leave her a message telling her I’m leaving and that it’s really too bad—it’s a nice, roomy space and she won’t get to see it. I wish her good luck.

A couple of minutes later, she calls. They’re on Broadway, which is quite a few avenues from where I am. She asks again where it is. I’ve already told her the exact location, down to “it’s between a church and a liquor store on the west side of the avenue—you can’t miss it” a dozen times. She says they’ll be right over. No apologies, mind you. So I start walking back to the spot, and who should call just as I get there? Yes, it’s her. The client doesn’t like the neighborhood, so we can just call the whole thing off, she tells me.

The first time or two something like this happens to you in real estate, you’re surprised, or at least I was. I was raised to value common courtesy and other people’s time, but apparently not everyone was. OR, common courtesy and time are only valuable if it’s THEIRS being called into question and/or violated in some way. I decide to call this bitch out on her behavior.

When she tells me they won’t make it, I start laughing at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You made such a big deal of this, called me all the time, getting upset when I didn’t call you back immediately, and now you couldn’t even be bothered with a call to let me know you were running late. I’m sorry, but I just find that funny.”

She doesn’t have much to say besides a lame, “Sorry.” The fact that I practically had to force it out of her speaks volumes.

“I’ll call you later?” she offers,

“No, thanks,” I say. “In fact, please don’t.”


Thankfully, she never did.

I Couldn't Have Staged It Better!

I got a listing that was really hot. A 2BR in Harlem for a little over $1400 a month. People must either really be desperate or finally picking up on what I realized over five years ago when I moved to Harlem. The neighborhood is getting better and better. It is not the North Pole. Much of Harlem is walking distance from Central Park and transit-friendly. Some of the most beautiful blocks in all of New York City are in Harlem. If you’re on the West Side just north of Central Park, getting over to Columbia U isn’t so difficult.

Now all of this doesn’t mean that the homies on the block have disappeared. Far from it. The neighborhood chefs often barbeque in the summer. You’d never see this sort of block party on the Upper East Side, but damn does that food smell good. The neighborhood DJs still blast their music, mostly in the warmer months. Street theater is just an argument away. Boy do I love pulling up for the evening show right outside my window. The start time of the show is never set, mind you. The performers let you know when they’re ready, usually by shouting and hooting and cursing at each other. Fun times.

What for me is “local color” is downright weird and scary to some of these yuppie college students and/or recent grads who are looking at apartments up here. Fair enough. I never lie when they ask me about the neighborhood. I tell them the truth—take a cab home late at night, and don’t go for 3 a.m. strolls. Check the hood out after dark, and see if you feel comfortable. If not, then look elsewhere. End of story. If mommy and daddy are paying, which they often are, they can look on the Upper West or East sides. It’s not the end of the world if you end up with a smaller apartment in Baby StrollerVille. Well, at least not the end of the world for them, though it would be for me.

Yet some of these brave pioneers persevere, and so it goes. However, I was quite unprepared for the number of my broker colleagues (I hate the thought that these low-lives are my colleagues, so I cringe whenever I type that) who were salivating at this listing. Hmmmm, they must be picking up on what a good deal it is. Anyways, the pestering started. Compounded by the fact that the apartment was under renovation and I wasn’t about to walk in onto sticky floors and ruin the contractors’ refinishing work, not to mention my shoes. So I told them there would be a delay. They beg me to get back to them the second I have access and then keep calling to check in to boot.

Now I’m starting to feel nervous. This is my exclusive listing, and an exclusive building of my company’s. This is how we make our money. The very thought of having a pushy broker in MY building (not that I live there, but you get the point) makes me queasy. Who’s to say they won’t try to butter up the super with some cash, get all cozy, and try to poach my rental listings? In fact, knowing brokers, that's exactly the sort of thing that would happen. Fuck that!

I decide that I’m going to make it hard for any broker who wants to apply for this place. Full fee. No negotiating. No “co-broking”—meaning that we split the fee. They must meet every landlord requirement to the letter. And I’m going to get an attorney friend to draft an air-tight no compete agreement for them to sign. No agreement, no deal. Hopefully by this point they’ll have found something else elsewhere and leave me alone.

This one broker is even pushier than the rest. Keeps dropping my boss’ name like it’s the keys to the kingdom. Claims he’s a friend of the boss. Okay, so you’ve done a few deals together and now my boss is your friend? Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Finally I get the keys. I schedule an evening open house, which was the only time I could do it that day. (Very hectic week—worse than usual). Of course this “friend” of my boss’ pushes me for an earlier time. I say no. He calls me before the open house, when I’m still waiting on the keys from the super. I don’t pick up. This guy is getting no special treatment, I don’t care if he is BFF with the Almighty him/her/it-self. Finally the open house time officially arrives. I get the keys literally five minutes before show time. He’s the first one in. He seems to want to take the place. Oh great. I start going through the breakdown of procedures: deposit, credit check, etc. That’s when he thinks he’s gonna wheel and deal wth me:

Him: “Maybe the landlord would do a lower rent?”

Me: “No absolutely not. Usually the apartment has to have been on the market for at least a week before he’ll consider dropping prices. And it’s only been shown for the first time today—right now, in fact. This is a rent-stabilized two bedroom. As you can see, it has just been gut renovated. I really don’t see the landlord dropping the price at all, to be honest. Someone will gladly take it at full price.”

Him: “I would like to move in around the first of next month.”

Me: “Sorry, can’t do that. We aren’t even through the first week of THIS month, and the owner wants it rented by mid-month if not immediately.”

Him, apparently not liking my answers and thinking he could do better by going over my head, “Maybe your boss would know better.”

I haven’t really been looking at him at this point. Sometimes I can't even look at these real estate agents, and this is one of those times. Instead, I’ve been organizing papers and greeting people as they stream in through the door. Now I turn around and fix him with my gaze. The look in my eyes can’t be kind. My tone has gone from casual and slightly miffed to stern.

Me: “No, boss would NOT know better. This is my exclusive account, and I’ve been working for this landlord for almost two years. So if anyone knows, it’s me.”

This fool is still trying to take a mile, even when I haven’t given an inch. He now wants to negotiate the fee.

Him: “This would be a co-broke, right?"

(Meaning we split the commission 50-50 with this idiot’s company.) Since he’s a broker and won’t be paying himself on this deal, then his company will get part of the commission, which still gives him a nice discount. And even though we’re taking a huge risk by letting a broker into our building, we still get only a partial fee. And apparently we’re supposed to negotiate a lower rent and later move date for him to boot. How appealing!

I tell him that I’d have to think about that, but full fee would be the more likely scenario. No splits.

He then mumbles something about how we might not be able to rent it right away, blah blah blah. In other words, he's trying to push me to take him and to accommodate his outrageous requests. This guy is way out of line.

Me: “That’s possible, it might not rent right away, but it’s also possible that some people could walk in right now and want the place immediately, for the price listed, for a full fee.”

He was still hovering around me five minutes later when that exact thing happened. Two roommates walked in, barely saw it, and breathlessly said, “We’ll take it!”

I couldn’t have staged it better.

Leases were signed just a couple of days ago. I haven’t heard from that broker since.

Duly Noted That a Picture is Worth. . .

1000 words. Minimum.

I know this blog is very text heavy right now. I will be working on figuring out how to get some pictures into NoVacancyNYC very soon. Like this week soon. (I hope).

Cat Calls

Apparently there is a stray cat who is calling a vacant commercial space I’m representing home. I know this because I have gotten three calls from a “concerned” neighbor about this feline. Now I love animals. Adore them. Ask me if I’d prefer to pet a kitten or a puppy versus holding a human baby, and the animals will win every time. But if this woman thinks I’m going to go chasing some feral cat around this dark, empty, and spooky space, she’s got another think coming. Yet that seems to be what she wants me to do, because she keeps leaving messages. I have called her back and told her that the building super has been alerted. That’s about all I can do short of grabbing a butterfly net and an open can of tuna and going on a mission myself. No thanks.

Evidently the cat is doing just fine…he had a pigeon as a meal just the other day, if the feathers behind inside the space are any indication. Plus he has full access to the basement and fire escapes, so even though the woman says “he looks skinny” and offers to rescue him and bring her to her home rescue—she imples that she runs a sort of halfway house for ferals—I’ll bet he’s doing just fine. In fact, he probably doesn’t want our help. He is living rent free in one of the most expensive cities in the world, can come and go as he pleases, and he has free range over a huge space—2000 square feet. HE gets to hunt wild game and doesn’t have to answer to any one. That has to be priceless. Why would he want to give up his freedom to live with this woman? Her apartment’s likely cramped, full of cats and fur, and probably smells of stale urine, cat litter, and that unique feline musk smell that can only be gotten out of a home by industrial strength chemicals normally used to clean places after long-decomposed bodies have been hauled away. Why indeed? Do me a favor, lady: If you really care so much about cats, let this one enjoy his freedom.

Vacation? What Vacation????

There's an article in the New York Times that mentions how many workers don't take vacations because it's frowned upon at their companies. So they let their vacation days roll over into the next year, or simply lose them. Talk about stupid. Giving up free days off is like paying someone to allow you to work. On the other hand, you could also argue that internships and college are just that: paying for the honor of working. At least there's an end in sight to college and internships. Paid employment? The way things are shaping up, it looks like I'll be working until the day I drop dead.

In real estate, true vacations are few and far between, at least in my world. The idea of paid days off makes me swoon. The last time I had a proper vacation was well over three years ago, and it's worth noting that that epic trip predates my real estate career. Which is why reading about people who forfeit paid time off made me want to slap all of them.

Bosses frowning upon vacation time? Welcome to real estate. In fact, I'll never forget a boss giving me hell in the beginning of my career. I'd been working two or three months non-stop. Seven days a week with no deals closed. Yet I continued on, exhausted, and broke, but gamely struggling to look happy about while simultaneously wanting to kill anyone who got too close to me on the train or called me too many times on the phone. The strain was starting to get to me, and I needed a break. A short one.

So I took one. A weekend off. How novel it all felt! I felt much better-- re-energized and refreshed and all that. Until Boss reprimanded me when I got back on Monday after a whopping two days off. Boss seemed to conveniently forget that most normal people get two days off every week. Just because Boss spent most of his or her twenties working doesn't mean such a schedule is healthy for me, or any other relatively normal person. Whatever. Boss didn't care. Apparently real estate agents are super-human.

My solution? I became passive aggressive, and rarely announce or "ask" any days off unless I will be gone for, say, a four-day weekend out of state or a weeklong jaunt.(Most of these trips involve family, therefore, in my mind, said trips are not true vacations). Still, I always feel guilty. And Boss always makes sure to text message me or call me at least once or twice. Whoever is covering for me inevitably will call a few times with questions. Clueless brokers will ignore my outgoing message and beg me to call them back, ". . .even though I know you're away and your message says you're not returning phone calls until you get back. But if you get a second. . . "

Sometimes I ignore these calls and text messages. I am NOT working when I am on fucking vacation, people! Whether I ignore or answer the calls, they always annoy me and I can feel my blood pressure rising. I try to believe in Karma and not do the same things to them when they're away, hoping they'll take notice. Maybe in another lifetime.

Some agents take long trips, especially in the winter. One guy agent I know makes a few deals, then takes the cash to some gambling outpost and presumably burns through it until he has to come back and make more deals. This sort of high-rolling hasn't been an option for me, because in the winter, it seems it's all I can do to keep the rent on my apartment current. (Adding insult, the boiler in my building seems timed to stop working on the coldest days of the year, but that's another entry.)

Flexibility is one of the aspects of this job that appealed to me in the first place. But what good is all the flexibility in the world if you're constantly made to feel bad for taking any time off, and can hardly afford to do so in the first place? That's the question I've been asking myself a lot lately.

Feast or Famine

Things have been slow lately. That's actually okay by me, as I seriously need a break. I've been utterly useless lately. Going to movies at 3 in the afternoon. Watching cooking shows all day. I have worked on my taxes and also paid some overdue rent, so it's not been a complete bust. But still. It seems it's either crazy busy or amazingly slow.

Sometimes slow can be more annoying and scary than being super busy. Like one of my co-workers says, "If the phone's not ringing, I get worried."

Yet when it's busy, the our phones do nothing but ring. Of course we bitch about that, too.

Everyday Annoyances

Things have been a little bit crazy lately. I don't want NoVacancyNYC to become one of those dead blogs > The New York Post wrote about the other day. That said, the truth is I probably won't be a realtor forever. In fact, I sincerely hope I won't be.

My friend has the right idea. She has a day job with full benefits and a steady salary, and she does real estate in her spare time for extra money. Me, I've always thought of side jobs as the sort of thing one does for fun. I wouldn't call the way this business has treated me "fun." Therefore, I don't see myself doing real estate on the side, unless I move out west and do the old "buy and hold" and/or "buy and flip" as an investor. A girl can dream.

Even this savvy friend has her bad real estate days. She described one for me today. She'd been in touch with a client for months. He was relocating from Florida. He wants to buy a place in the City eventually, which is part of the reason she has chosen to put up with him through this current fiasco. He decided to rent for now. She spend the better part of her weekend showing him apartments. He's ultra-picky. He only wants top floor apartments. He wanted a six-month lease (I'll write more another day about why most real estate people laugh at anyone in Manhattan who dares try to secure a short-term lease). He balked at the standard broker's fee. She lowered it.

He persisted in complaining about things, wanting to see the lease ahead of time, etc. I can understand wanting to see a lease ahead of time. The truth is that most leases are so incredibly boilerplate, seeing one ahead of time won't do you much good. Moreover, from a broker's point of view, and a landlord's point of view, every day that's wasted with someone reviewing a lease is a day the landlord is not getting rent and the broker is not getting paid. Some schmuck who doesn't give a rat's tail about the fine print and has all of his money ready can come along, like the apartment, sign the lease, and kill the deal for Client A (and Client A's broker). The landlord might feel bad for a few minutes or maybe half a day, but in the end, it's all about business and securing a stable rent for vacant apartments.

Luckily, that deal-killing scenario didn't happen to my friend. But it could have. Plus, when it comes time for her client to buy, there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll go through her. He might ditch her or only call her when he's been out with every other broker in town. Loyalty seems a thing of the past in this business. It's the exception now, rather than the rule. Another co-worker of hers is dealing with a sale in a new development. Her deal might die because the developers didn't follow proper protocol when securing permits from the city. Fun stuff, huh?

Yet it's all in a day's work for a realtor. Getting jerked around and having to be the bearer of news, both good and bad.

All in a Day's Work

Two deals I had on the table, deals that a week ago were "sure things" appear to be falling through. In this case, it's the owners who are being difficult. There won't be any definite news until next week. If these deals don't close, then oh well, there goes March's rent.

If things were really bad right now, I'd be saying, "Oh well, there goes February's rent." Thankfully things aren't that dire, but wannabe realtors take heed. This is the sort of financial stress pretty much every agent I know deals with from time to time.

Myth Busting: Real Estate is NOT a Great Career for Artists, Actors, Entertainers!!!!

I hope all of you starving artists who think working in real estate would be a good day job--the kind of job that will keep food on the table, the rent paid, and your financial worries at bay--get this memo in time. Please pay close attention: Real Estate is probably the worst career for people who don't have steady work or cash flow to begin with.

Of course, ignore the above caveat if you have a lot of money in the bank and/or a partner, spouse, or Sugar Daddy/Mamma to support you. If you're trying to claw your way up without much (or any) help, please consider this entry a public service annoucement.

This propogation of this "artists as realtors" urban myth has been eating at me for some time. It's everywhere, and it's dangerous. Like a tabloid story about Lindsay, Britney, or Saint Angelina, they start with a grain of truth, and then blow things waaaayyyyy out of proportion.

The thrust of the articles, as per industry trade mag The Real Deal:

In fact, many arts professionals are drawn to the real estate trade for its flexible hours and promise of greater financial gain. Also, real estate and the arts are both industries where individuals are largely responsible for their own success.

I about fell out when the article talks about how Diana Ross's daughter Rhonda moonlights as a Citi-Habitats agent when she's not on the road singing. Fer Chrissakes, she's Diana Ross's daughter. I'm sure her mom can and will pick up the slack if both her realty and entertainment careers hit rough patches. How many people do you know of personally who have that sort of safety net? (And of all firms to work for, I can't believe she's at Shitty Habitats. But I digress).

The Village Voice ran an article a few years back about this topic. The gist of it: "Real estate is such a great career for actors. They can show apartments and also go to auditions because of the flexible hours. Blah Blah Blah." Sure, that's all fine and good, but what if they get turned down for a "sure thing" acting gig, and fail to close any deals that month? Then what?

Other media outlets have jumped on this stupid wagon. The above-mentioned article featuring Miss Ross appears in The Real Deal ("Artists drawn to real estate careers") in its February 2007 issue. And I could swear The New York Times has reported on this, but their search engine sucks, and I'm too lazy to dig out the article at this moment. If anyone is actually reading this and finds that article, please post a link in the comments area.

At any rate, I feel these reports are dangerous and misleading. Sure, there may be a subset of realtors who enjoy enough success in this business to be able to pursue things like acting, singing, visual arts, and so on. Perhaps there are entertainers and artists who have a level of success, time, and money, and they are able to devote some time to real estate, a la Miss Ross. Good on them.

But, in general: To make money in this business, you have to either be very lucky, or very patient and persistent. Several agents I know didn't close deals until several months after they started working. If you're in sales, any honest manager/broker will tell you that you might not close a deal for six months. It took me a couple of very long, agonizing months to close my first deal--a measly rental. Then I had to fork over a significant chunk of my commission to the shady owner of the property.

Yet that entire time, I worked like a dog. I came into the office six and seven days a week, and was also out with clients six or seven days a week. Agents who don't work weekends, or at least create the illusion that they work every day, will get the hairy eyeball from their boss, possibly worse. Things like grocery shopping, house cleaning, and cooking get shunted to the side.

So basically you have no life when you start out in this business. No life, and very likely no money coming in. Forget about groceries and rent...Where are you supposed to find the physical and psychic energy to be creative if you're constantly drained, broke, and working for little or no pay?

This is my roundabout way of saying: If you think real estate could offer a fun, flexible job and quick money, you're better off waiting tables. You'll be on your feet just as much, probably dealing with fewer jerks, and scoring some free food. At least you'll earn money for every shift you work, unlike in real estate, where you can work on closing a deal for days, weeks, and months, only to have it implode at any point along the way. Then the boss will bitch at you for not being in the office on say, a Sunday. What do you have to show for all of your hard work? Maybe a few lessons learned and war stories you can laugh about one day with your friends, once the pain of it all has faded.

Those who are enthusiastic about and dedicated to real estate should by all means go for it. But don't expect easy money. And if you make easy money, thank whatever deity you accept.


For all of you artistic types out there who are simply looking to pay some bills while doing your arty thing: Why compound one career rife with rejection and financial dry spells by taking another that's, uh, rife with rejection and financial dry spells? From The Real Deal:

And it's possible that the thick skin artists
develop serves them well in the real estate business. "There's a tremendous amount of disappointment and dead ends in real estate, but it's nothing like what you run into in the acting business," said Eric Rath, a broker with Bellmarc Realty. Over almost 20 years he has landed gigs in television, film, theater, teaching and helicopter traffic
reporting.

Oh well, for all of my teeth-gnashing regarding my line of work, at least I can say I was smart enough not to become an actress. Or a helicopter traffic reporter.

April Fool’s Day Came Early This Year

Wow, talk about feeling like a complete sucker. I got my tax forms in the mail, and feel like laughing and screaming at the same time. I knew I wasn’t breaking any commission records in 2006, but dayyuuummmm, I didn’t know things were this horrific. No, I’m not going to name numbers, but let’s just say I’m way below average. Even my own middling average.

It’s an insult really. To spend your entire year working six and seven days a week, dealing with morons, getting screwed over by owners and clients alike, only to see that the fruits of your labor barely allow you to break even, and that’s before taxes. Spare me! It really feels rotten, like studying all semester for a final and then flunking. Now I know what JFK Junior must've felt like when he flunked the bar exam. I could go on. Bottom line is I feel like a colossal jerk.

Such rotten news isn’t easy for a former straight-A student and Columbia University graduate to take. I don’t think I’m entitled to a cushy glam gig, mind you, but a living wage would be nice. Especially since I’m more than willing to do actual work. But then again, I’m not completely surprised. Financially, things were rough in 2006, even if I didn’t allow myself to look at the exact numbers from week to week and month to month. I just tried to live from day to day, and I think that may have helped me feel happier over all. At the very least, not tormenting myself with every nickel and dime that passed in and out of my hands allowed me fewer sleepless nights.

Last year was rotten in a lot of other ways, so I’m incredibly glad to have kicked 2006 to the curb. Now we’ll see how bad my accountant thinks the damage will be. The ball’s in his court for the moment. I’ll use that time to give some serious thought to what I need to do next.

The Death of Common Courtesy

Common courtesy must not be "in" this season. Or maybe it died a slow death years ago and I just didn't notice.

I'll try to make this brief, as I have to run off to remove a sign from a rented space (hooray) before the super trashes it. I was yelling "No basura por favor!!!!" when we spoke a few minutes ago, but I'm not sure he understood. This guy is a sweetheart, but he often pretends to understand me when really he doesn't. God bless ESL.

Anyways, back on topic. Real estate is a great for career for people who love the following:

• Wasting time
• Dealing with jackasses
• Getting stood up
• Most importantly, possess the patience of His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

I am none of these things.

Today I'll touch on getting stood up, a favorite topic. Since when did it become okay to harass me every hour on the hour about seeing a given apartment, and then not show up to the freaking appointment? Huh? You were plenty bold when calling me at inappropriate hours, but now that you've decided not to come out, you don't have the balls to pick up your phone or give me a courtesy call to let me know you won't be making it to our appointment. Now I'm standing out in the freezing cold, getting weird looks from people who live on the block, and you're not picking up your damn phone.

This, my friends, is one of the many reasons I'm such a crank sometimes when people are desperate to see a place. The more desperate and pushy, the more likely they are to blow me off at the very last second. Seriously. If they are a broker, they promptly assume a spot on my Shit List. Just TRY getting me to pick up your calls next time! If it is a client, unless they have a damn good reason (i.e., phone fell in toilet, track fire on the subway, got hit by a bus), I will refuse to deal with them. And leave a terse message calling them out on their inconsiderate ways. Not that they'll have the guts to even listen to my voicemail.

But sometimes you do things for your own dignity, then let go and let karma do all the rest.

Inevitabilities: Death & Taxes a.k.a. No, I am NOT Rich!

It's that time of year again. Time to bend over and. . .well, those of you who are 1099ers know the next part. Tax time. Time to feel like you're getting screwed, and not in a good way. UGH. I am so scared to check my mail and see what horror awaits me in the form of 2006's 1099. I'm going to tell my accountant to be extra aggressive this year, and can provide the receipts to back me up. 2005 was my first tax year in real estate, and dammit if I didn't get reamed.

From comparing notes with other realtors, it seems some of my colleagues, who definitely make more, are paying significantly lower taxes than I am. What's up with that? To add insult, the Real Estate Board of New York is considerate enough to choose this very time of year, tax time, to collect dues. From what I can gather, they send out invoices right around New Year's, when everyone's feeling spent, literally and figuratively, after the holidays. Even a couple hundred extra dollars can really hurt around this time.

Oh well, REBNY's strong suit has never been consideration, or even accuracy when it comes to calculating dues. They sent my office all sorts of wildly varied calculations last year. It seems the longer you've been in the business, the more dues you pay. From what I can gather, they don't base it on your income, so some broker making six figures who has been in this business six years would pay the same dues as another broke ass broker who has also been doing this for six years. (Not that anyone who is doing that badly should still be in this racket after six years, but I digress.)

Which brings me to another pet peeve. People seem to think that we Manhattan realtors are rich. Folks, let me assure you that in this instance, the 80/20 Rule definitely applies. Twenty percent of the realtors are making 80% of the money. Trust me. When I tell people back home that I work in real estate in Manhattan, they have visions of dollar signs in their eyes. If only. They don't know the reality of how expensive it can be to live here, and how difficult to get ahead. How you can be about to make several thousand dollars one minute, only to have some idiot back out, or some landlord or co-op board destroy the whole deal.

Now I won't lie--when the money's good, it's good. For me, it's the best money I've ever made. (Which may not be saying much. See also my introductory post.)However, there are times when the money sucks, or doesn't flow at all. Winter is generally awful, for example. A few realtors I know get part-time retail jobs during the holidays in order to make ends meet. Those who have done well enough in the busier season just take off on extended vacations if they can.

If you're like me, hovering somewhere in the middle, you do neither. You pray that your next deal doesn't come crashing down, that you might get to take a long weekend somewhere warm, and you wake up in the middle of the cold nights, with no heat in your prewar aparment, frozen with worry. You have perpetual tension and compression in your shoulders from the strain. Just ask my yoga teacher.

Any honest realtor, if you corner him or her after a few drinks, will tell you what I've just told you. Let me put it to you this way: According to the New York Times, "28,700 brokers and sales agents in Manhattan alone and 66,700 in all five boroughs." They can't all be making six figures or higher. Sometimes we really struggle in this business. But we have to always smile in public and act like we're moguls-in-the making. After all, who wants a broke loser as an agent?

All of those perky positive "the market's never been better" realtors you hear about in the New York Times and elsewhere have a vested interest in making themselves look good, like players, and in making the market sound solid. It's how we all make our money, after all. It's spin, plain and simple. Or, as we brokers might say, "marketing language."

An End to the Procrastination and Welcome!

Well Hello. I have been thinking about and talking about creating this blog for a long time, and I've finally taken the plunge. It's been slow at work, the money is coming in at a pathetic trickle, and honestly, I've got time on my hands.

A little about me: I'm a twentysomething female Manhattan realtor. I'm overeducated, underpaid, and find myself wondering on a daily, if not hourly basis, how the hell I ended up in this crazy business full of weirdos. The short story (a common one, almost an embarrassing cliche) is that I came here to make my mark in the Big City and quickly ran up against the reality of making a living. After grad school, I worked numerous crap jobs for little money. A few highlights:

• Around the holidays one year, I wrapped presents as a personal assistant at a well-known fashion house. Robert Redford got a sweater that year. My tenure there was short lived. Apparently my preferences in wrapping paper wasn't up to their "taste level."
• 
  I worked as a research associate for a truly nutty, disorganized, borderline-creepy professor. The day he asked me what I was wearing was the day that I knew my tenure there was winding down. Indeed it was.
• 
  I tried working in the bar/club/nightlife scene. I soon realized I had grown to truly hate going out, and that being there was torture. Plus they stiffed me a bunch of times, so fuck that!

Did I apply for "real jobs?" Hell yes. However, the jobs I could get that were related to my degree would barely pay for my daily coffee. And that was before taxes. Newsflash: I didn't go to school to obtain an expensive hobby. I have real bills to pay. Rent. Utilities. The Parental Units are NOT footing the bill for my Big City Adventure. I trust that I'll never have a trust fund. I'm on my own out here. I'm sure many of you can relate.

Infuriated and exhausted from getting the ass end of everything, I decided to find a compromise...a job where I could work for both myself and a company and make decent money while setting my own hours. Freelance work was too spotty and erratic (see above.) Working for The Man ain't my bag (see also above.) Whoring myself out like this no longer felt like an option, and I don't "do" Sugar Daddies, so I decided to do real estate instead.

That's where things get interesting. That's what this blog is about.

Oh, and if you're wondering about the pigeon I'm currently using as my avatar....Well, it's symbolic. Bear with me here. Real estate agents in Manhattan are about as common as pigeons, and sometimes just as despised. You'll see what I mean in future posts. . .

Still Getting Used to This Thang

Bear with me, as I'm new to blogging. It will take me a little while to get used to posting, editing posts, formatting these pages in a readable way, etc. I checked my blog, NoVacancyNYC, on another computer, and found it barely readable. In fact, it might have only been readable to me because I knew what I'd written. I'm thinking bold typeface might help? We'll see.