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.