Diary of An Anonymous New York Real Estate Agent

The Optimists’ Club aka PT Barnum was Right

2009-02-15T11:57:00.004-05:00

Seems there are people out there who are still determined to many money in real estate. So says an article in the Sunday NYTimes.

Two words for them: Good luck.

While I admire their drive and ambition, having been there and done that, I can honestly say that the odds are that this young woman will be getting a reality check in her name much sooner than an actual paycheck:

“I’m a very self-sufficient person,” she said. “I did my clothing line because it’s my passion, my creativity, how I express myself. I’m doing real estate for money. To fuel my passion, I need money.”

Ms. Tomas made $47,000 a year at H&M; as an agent, she said, “I’m looking to make twice that, if not more.”

Expectations, however, can be a mismatch with reality.

“I ask them, ‘What are people telling you you’re going to make?’ And they say $250,000 — in their first year!” said Olinda Turturro with a laugh. She is the director of recruiting at Bond New York, a midsize brokerage that employs about 200 sales and rental agents.

Recruiters for brokerage firms say that a new agent can expect to earn about $50,000 a year.

I'd say that $50K in the first year isn't even that realistic. Consider the source: It's a recruiter talking, and $50K sounds like okay money for a first year agent, right? I'd say the reality is more in the $30K range. And this is before taxes.

Several colleagues of mine from the biz would definitely agree, and we're talking hard-working, educated, driven people, not scrubs who stumbled into this line of work because it's easy to get into and less messy than burger flipping.

This is more realistic:

The journey from contract to closing can drag on for months. And even longtime agents may not close any deals for weeks on end.

Kevin Ryan-Young, 45, a former arts administrator and stay-at-home father, closed his first sale in December, six months after starting as an agent at Bond New York. So far, his take has been in the low four figures. “There’s not a lot of money,” he said. This despite working 10 hours a day for six or seven days a week.

His experience is not atypical.

“Someone coming into the biz, who is going to focus on sales from Day 1, should have at least a six-month nest egg, and it would probably be better to have more than that,” said Stephen Love, a longtime broker who directs recruiting at Ardor New York Real Estate.

“I see it happen all the time,” Mr. Love continued. “People come in without enough money behind them. They find themselves in a situation where they become highly anxious and it can be a downward spiral. It affects you mentally. Your bills are coming due every 30 days and you’re not making any money.”

Yes, been there, done that. Luckily I had backup, but even that backup wasn't the sort of thing I liked relying on day to day or month to month. Let me put it to you simply: It's incredibly disheartening to work your ass off seven days a week and see NOTHING. Not a single dollar. And yes, this can and does happen in real estate.

People think they can get into RE and have time to pursue their hobbies, passions, and volunteer to do benevolent things like help homeless pets. However, the most successful agents are constantly on call. The job never really ends. Weekends aren't yours--they belong to customers and brokers who need to see available properties. That wouldn't be so bad, but weekdays aren't yours either, as those same customers and brokers expect agents to be around daily to attend to their needs. Don't believe me, newbie agents? Just try taking a day off and see what happens. The work can become quite all-consuming and exhausting pretty fast.

It's a devil's deal, in my opinion. Perhaps if a person actually makes good money, the tradeoff (your life for money) is worth it. Maybe they can bank the money and eventually pursue other interests and have a real life again. However, the odds are in favor of a lot of hard work and an income that's not in at all in proportion to the work one puts in. In other words, totally suckage for as long as one is willing to put up with it.

Sounds like a whole new batch of rookie brokers are about to learn that hard, soul-sucking lesson. Good luck.

Strange Twist Plus People with Twisted Values

2009-01-30T15:06:00.004-05:00

In a strange twist, I heard that one of my former employers is looking for someone to do some writing for them on a freelance basis. Incidentally, the work they are now outsourcing was once a big part of my job. At any rate, I texted my friend who still works there and asked if they could float the idea of me taking on the freelance work by the decision makers and see if it flies. I'm well aware, obviously, that the idea might sink like a mafia hit weighed down with cinder blocks.

I'm also well aware that Former Job's letting me go wasn't pretty and they (the bosses) were kinda wankerish about it. My dignity remained intact, but I got the distinct sense that they felt dirty and low for letting me go the way they did: with zero warning, and trumped up 'complaints' that were all B.S. And yes, if they felt bad, they deserve to. They did things in a somewhat nasty manner. If they had just waited a couple of more months, they could have used the real reason for my axing: the economy.

Instead, I was the canary in the coal mine, as more downsizing came to pass at Former Job in subsequent months.

Anywho, perhaps that guilt will translate into freelance work. Or they might think I'm really pathetic for even floating the idea. My take? It would be super easy money--something I could practically do in my sleep. So I'll risk sticking my neck out there and being rejected. After all, they rejected me once already. What's one more time for old time's sake?

In other news, this Dating a Banker Anonymous blog seems to have the whole world in a tizzy. It's interesting to read about these once high-flying people and what passes for fulfillment in their lives. No wonder so many relationships are unraveling. When money is the glue that keeps you together, things look a lot less tolerable when designer shoes, fancy vacays, and spa days and private Pilates start going the way of the Dodo.

Zero sympathy. Absolutely none.

Link to this douchebaggery right here !

Enjoy!

Eye of The (Flu Shot) Needle? If you Can Find it!

2008-11-17T12:22:00.003-05:00

Nowadays it’s ‘trendy’ to save money any way one can. For me, the sort of story I’m about to tell has been a way of life for years:

Talk about a flu shot scam. My work is offering it, but they’re not giving the shots until the first week of December, which is, IMHO, a little late. Especially considering that it takes about two weeks for the shot to be fully effective.

Next call? My doctor’s office. They claimed my insurance didn’t cover it. At first, I was going to just run downtown and let my doc give me the shot, for $25 cash. But then I started to get suspicious about what his staff told me about my insurance not covering the shot.

So I called the insurance company. Turns out they do indeed cover the shot. I asked them where I could get it because my reg doc had "opted" not to particpate. They seemed fluxxomed, put me on hold, then referred me to 311 to find locations for free or low cost flu shot clinics. They also told me I could go to the hospital. Uh, no thanks. I have nothing against the Health Dept or free clinics, but even my cheap ass is willing to pay a bit of money to not have to wait in a huge ass line, full of idiots and their screaming spawn, no doubt. Hey, I take the subway every day; I see those people enough as it is. And the ER seems a bit extreme of a place to go for a simple flu shot. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll not risk being traumatized by ER drama of bloodied, incoherent, ill people, or worse, getting in the way of the very people who need urgent care.

Next logical step in this illogical journey: Googling around to find some local clinics that might offer the shot for a discount. The first that local clinic on my call list acted all sketchy.

“Who is this?” they asked. “How did you get this number?” [The defensive tone struck me immediately]

“My name is ____ and I live nearby. I found this number on the Internet.”

“Well, we don’t offer those services here. You can go to the Department of Health. Call 311,” says the woman on the phone, in a very defensive and irritated tone.

“Can you please tell me if you guys still have that clinic over on Amsterdam Avenue?”

She tells me, “I can’t disclose that information.”

At this point, I got rude and hung up on her. I mean, WTF? Your number and address are listed online. So it’s not like your clinic is some big secret. I was just trying to figure out if the other clinic was still operating, so I asked you. Yet you can’t disclose whether or not a public clinic is still operating?

A friend later pointed out that I might have called a clinic serving victims of domestic violence, or AIDS, hence the suspicious tone they took with me. Umm, if that's the case, they'd do well to look into this really novel concept. It's call and UN-listed telephone number.

Frustrated, my next attempt involved about half an hour of trying to get ahold of a live human being inside one of the newish walk-up clinics inside Duane Reade. I simply wanted to ask them if they accepted insurance for their flu shots, or if they only took cash. The answer: Cash only. $30. Ok, at least I know one fast place to go as a last resort.

The matter was finally resolved by me taking a quick walk to a clinic near me that I remembered going to during my Columbia days. Back then, I got my flu shot for free. My thought: Even if it costs $$$ now, I felt fairly certain it wouldn’t cost $25 or $30.

Turns out I was right. But not before yet more runaround. The first woman I talked to at the front desk explained that the clinic, which was once run by the hospital, was now private. Yes, they did accept my insurance, she said, but in order to land a flu shot, I’d have to change my primary care physician to the doc who now practices there.

The Flu Shot Gods intervened at that point, and she was called away from her post. I asked her colleague, “Can’t I just get the shot here and pay you guys whatever you charge for it without changing my doctor and having to go through my insurance?”

This woman (finally!) was on point, and she said that for a $10 fee, I could indeed get the shot without involving my insurance or changing my primary care doc. So that’s exactly what I did.

Bring on nationalized health care. Now.

What Goes Around Comes Around

2008-11-03T13:48:00.003-05:00

Yes, I've been quiet lately. This has allowed several tidbits of info to build up:

I have actually been working on getting out of the real estate business since late 2006, and the break is definitely official now. I am building a career in another, hopefully better industry. As a result, my mental health seems to have stabilized, despite the fact that my income hasn't (yet).

However, sometimes morbid curiosity gets the better of me I dig around online to see who is hiring. It seems that my old firm (the one I worked in in property management, complete with the nutty boss), is hiring. Again. They have such turnover issues there. I wonder why? <----- Insert sarcastic tone of voice here.

That Evil Boss and I actually ran into one another on the street a few weeks ago. It was quite the shock to my system, and lots of icky feelings came back in that instant that we spotted one another on Broadway. We waved at each other and pretended to be really into our cell phones. Whew, crisis averted!

Horrid ex-bosses aside, I'm particularly glad I'm not in RE right now, because of the inevitable migration of jerk-off finance industry types into the business. I know some bankers, stock brokers, etc, and they're generally pretty cool. However, real estate seems to attract a certain population of assholes, and I have no doubt that many of that finance types who also happen to be raging, Gordon Gekko wannabe assholes have already made their way into real estate. Bleh!

While we're on the topic of comings and goings: The firm that gave me the boot has shown yet another employee the door. This particular employee was a trouble-maker martyr type and a Kisser of Bosses' Asses to the nth degree. Still, I feel for the people who are still there. Their workload has practically doubled over the past few months, thanks to the management's inability to get a grip on the firm's structure. Soon, that place will no longer be a boutique, but a shoestring operation. What's next, them moving into a cardboard box and calling it an office?

While those particular bosses weren't inherently evil, they obviously aren't very good at managing their employees and all of the attendant HR issues. Incidentally, the person who got the boot was someone who I feel fairly certain said things behind my back to "encourage" the bosses to let me go first. We all know that what goes around comes around, and hearing that this person got fired made me want to don a lederhosen (see pic above) and do my little Knee Slapping Happy Dance of Glee.

Couple more tidbits: A former co-worker of mine from my earliest days in real estate tried, in vain, to bring me back into the industry. While money is money and I am generally willing to listen to potential job offers, I felt strongly that it's better for me to continue moving forward, not back.

Which is why I almost laughed out loud when I got a call from that horrible recruiter who found normal resume gaps (i.e., post college and post-grad school) to be so offensive to her rigid sensibilities. She'd no doubt be horrified that I've accumulated yet another resume gap, and am now working in a different industry entirely. She'd have a conniption if she knew I dared take some time off, traveled to another country for a spell, and generally enjoyed life free of office politics bullshit.

Yes, there is life outside of cubicle land, and I'm living it again now. Someone else can have the last word. I'll take having the last laugh any day.

I Swear I Said this Before/So Much for the American Dream

2008-09-29T18:38:00.004-04:00

A few years back, during the real estate boom, I remember wondering aloud how all of a sudden anyone with a pulse (and perhaps some without one) could get a mortgage. Like my dog (if I had one), could have qualified back then. It didn't seem right at the time, and now we're finding out exactly how wrong and illusory it all was.

I'm no economic expert, but it seems that it's past time for millions of people to start re-thinking the American Dream. What the hell is that supposed to be, anyway? People in the real estate industry would like you to think it's owning your own home. I have news for you, folks. Until the last note one your house has cleared, the bank owns it, and probably not even the same bank you financed it with in the first place.

I read a horrifying story in the paper the other day of a man who'd "owned" his home for close to 20 years. Never missed a payment. Then he ran into a rough patch financially, got a shady, adjustable rate re-fi, and ultimately lost the home to foreclosure.

American Dream? Or American Nightmare? Which is it?

Seeing a Different Side of Someone

2008-07-24T18:48:00.004-04:00

So remember that landlord I blogged about a few weeks back? The Venter?

Well, let's make a long story short and say he and I are no longer working together. He initiated it. I was mostly relieved, except for the fact that I didn't just pull the plug myself. Kind of like any bad breakup that both parties know is inevitable.

It's funny. We did a lot of deals together over several years. We both made a good amount of money. Yet when things suddenly took a natural turn for the worse (thank this tanking economy and other factors beyond my control, or his control, for that matter), he became so utterly nasty towards me. It was as if every good piece of work we'd put together over the years meant nothing.

And I guess maybe it did mean nothing to him. The whole "You're only as good as your last deal" philosophy.

Right now I'm still a bit hurt, and think he's acted like a real jerk, and unrealistic to boot. I wish him good luck on renting out those over-priced, unrenovated spaces. Bleh!

Maybe someday I'll be able to look back and fondly remember the good times. I'm both happy that this is finally over, and yet very sad that I had to see that other side of him. He showed me a very different face. One I wish I'd never seen.

The Karma Wheel

2008-06-23T11:32:00.005-04:00

It is one thing to say you're a big believer in karma, and quite another to act as if.

There was a little karmic test put to me a few days ago, and from what I can tell, I passed.

A long-time business associate offered me a listing, but wanted me to cut out my brokerage and pocket the entire commission myself. Well, the what was left of the commission after Business Associate took a generous kickback/finder's fee.

As tempting as it was, all I could think was how, unlike some of my past day job employers, this brokerage had generally treated me fairly. My stomach turned when contemplating how I'd feel if in their shoes and being screwed over by a trusted agent, and how what goes around truly comes around. Just thinking about it was stressful. In situations like this, I do my best to trust my instincts, and my instinct said "No" quite loudly. Problem solved.

So I turned down the opportunity, knowing that hundreds of other brokers would jump at such a chance. They'd see it as a "break" in their careers or as easy money. I don't see things that way. Maybe that's why I'm not climbing some corporate ladder, or why the job of cutthroat CEO isn't in my future. I don't really care. To sleep at night in peace means a lot more to me than some shady deal.

Buy Karma Police stickers here: http://www.goodkarmafactory.com

When Someone is Resentful of the Money You Make

2008-06-19T22:57:00.002-04:00

Okay, loss of dayjob aside, I still do real estate work, representing some properties and clients. This entire week one of the landlords I work with has been in the foulest of moods. This person is occasionally prone to tempermental outbursts, but generally comes around to logic once he's done venting. This week it's entirely different. He's decided to stay angry, and there's little I can do but allow him to vent at me. Which, as you can imagine, is tons of fun. Yelling, fussing, cajoling, lecturing and hectoring. Nasty and/or terse emails. Rambling voicemails. I just adore this.

It's a trickle down thing. For various reasons, the owner of the building has put restrictions on the properties, which The Venter must enforce. Those restrictions trickle down to me, the broker, and hinder my ability to close a deal as quickly as they want. Those restrictions sometimes turn off other brokers and clients. And of course, I promptly get blamed for any and all lack of deals on the properties, even though the restrictions the others have set up have a lot to do with us not getting deals done in the first place. Follow?

Add to the mix the overall softening of the economy and the not-so-great condition of the properties, and the fact that they are currently over-priced, and you have a recipe for threats like the following:

"Well, if all you're going to do to market the property is XYZ, then what the hell do I need you for? It's like I'm paying you guys to do nothing."

Which is, of course, utter bullshit. We are following the same procedures we've always followed in marketing these properties and also trying new angles, but unfortunately things aren't moving as quickly now as in the past. Which leads the Venter to panic and take it out on me.

Every commission we make, we EARN, dammit. I don't appreciate someone alluding to my work and commissions earned as lacking value or worse, bordering on theft. Screw that! For every deal we close, I'd bet my last dime that there have been five to ten that didn't work out. So even if a given deal appears "easy," in the overall scheme of things, it wasn't as easy as anyone thinks.

That's the thing. Brokers can make decent money, and sometimes other parties get resentful of it. Examples: Attorneys at closings. Landlords paying out commercial commissions. Sellers paying out commissions. Renters forking over broker's fees. Sometimes it appears to them that we did little to earn a lot.

The Venter seems to have calmed down for now, but if it comes down to it, I'm ready to fire him. After all, brokers are a dime a dozen, and he thinks he has me by the balls because of that simple fact. He thinks that just because he can take my company off of the listing at any moment, he can push me around. But that's not entirely true. With all the crap I've been through in my work life these past few years, walking away from people who treat me badly has become comically easy.

Further, I will not allow anyone to give the money I earn fairly and squarely any sort of evil eye/juju/bad vibes. It'd be different (and warranted) if I were some sort of thief or scam artist. That not being the case, then anyone who resents my money can put a sock in their piehole.

A Broker's Life: Pros and Cons

2008-05-26T15:42:00.003-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about work. The nature of work, the sacrifices and tradeoffs. I refuse to be defined by my job, and perhaps that's been my professional downfall. I just think that I am so much more than simply That Broker or That Writer or more generically, That Worker.

Indeed, That Broker's just a very small part of who I am in my entirety, and maybe that's the issue. It's my flippin' job, not ME. I'm just not one of those people who eats, sleeps, breathes, dreams, and lives real estate. Trust me, I tried that for about two years, and I began to really hate the woman that little experiment was turning me into. Underweight, overworked, physically weak, angry as hell, and with irritated skin from the constant stress. Not a pretty picture, on any level. So I stopped "brokering," and attempted to find a middle ground. The plan was to trade some of the freedoms and pains of being a broker for the stability and drudgery of a more office-based job--one that still drew on my real estate skills and knowledge.

This work scenario reminded me of how much a company gets to tell its workers, on some level, who they are for those hours they are there on the job each day, and to some extent, who they are outside of the job. I mean, Eliot Spitzer clearly liked sex with hookers in his spare time, but the State of New York begged to differ. Eliot aside, those hours add up to years of our lives, yet outside of independent wealth or abject poverty, what choices do we have? Of course, one could start one's own company and set the tone, culture, but that's a whole different discussion. . .one I haven't the energy for at the moment.

So since I'm feeling contemplative but perhaps a bit de-motivated, it's not a bad idea to reflect back on the pros and cons of my broker life.

As a broker, the pros were:

1. Almost complete control over my schedule. If I didn't want to show a place before, say 10 a.m., I didn't have to. Hitting the gym at 3 p.m. in the afternoon? Check. A long lunch every now and then without fear of retribution? Doable.

2. Being able to run around town during the work day and feel a part of things, rather than sitting on my ass in an office, feeling cut off from life until the clock rolled to the quitting hour. Office work really drained me in ways I never expected--the above chief among them.

3. My firm was very liberal on dress code. I got to wear pretty much whatever I could get by with. Of course, some firms have a very corporate dress code, but not mine.

4. The feeling that I could be more of myself on the job. Over the years, I met so many brokers from so many different areas of life. As a broker, you kinda feel like you can be who you are, yet still work in a professional capacity. Most brokers I know had or have thriving careers in other fields. They're not one-dimensional, in other words.

5. Want a long vacation? Just get your business covered and no one can tell you no. I never had to ask permission to go away on a trip, put in for vacay time...none of that nonsense. I simply made sure my listings and clients were being taken care of, usually by a trustworthy colleague, and went. (Cue fond memories of a week on the West Coast during August one summer). . .

The cons, however, were many:

1. People expect you to work every day and be constantly available, even when "off" duty. In fact, Off Duty status for brokers doesn't seem to exist in most people's minds. Bosses would have to hold their tongues if you went away for a week or three, but they'd bitch and moan, cajole and threaten if you consistently took off even one day a week. Or even appeared to do so.

2. Other brokers. Sure, I met some cool ones along the way, but I also met many annoying, boundary-less, mouth-breathing, clueless jerks. And pushy? I can talk to you about PUSHY. And about obnoxious, too. Ugh!!!

3. Unstable income and overall economic instability. Those long vacations weren't so doable when my rent from one month to the next was constantly in question. And it often was.

4. The running around...in general I enjoyed the active part of the job, but sometimes people would run you around town and simply waste your time. That used to piss me off...the inordinate amount of wasted time. I'd do what I could to minimize it, but often in vain.

5. People thinking you're rich. . .when you're not.

6. Taxes.

7. There are NO easy deals and you practically bleed for every paycheck. This is something I didn't want to believe initially, but I was proven wrong time and again.

8. Annoying clients. And their kids. And dogs. And. . .

9. My favorite: getting screwed over. Happened weekly. Sometimes daily. You really see people at their best and worst moments when it comes to real estate transactions.

So clearly, a mixed bag. In all honesty, I might still be pursuing the full-time broker avenue if I felt it could ultimately pay off. For whatever reason, it didn't for me. So I went the "day job" route and eventually got canned--that and other negatives were perhaps signs that I'm really not cut out to work for someone, at least not in a traditional office setting. The entrepreneurial aspects of being a broker were enjoyable and suited me in many ways, but the instability rattled me. The drudgery, politics, and controlling nature of office life were soul-sucking, but that steady, almost healthy paycheck was very nice indeed.

What to make of all of this? Now that I'm back to square numero uno, trying to put it all together and am finally able to think of it all objectively, I do find it oddly freeing.

My Forced Sabbatical

2008-05-12T17:52:00.004-04:00

Well, I spoke too soon, folks. Seems I've been put out on a forced sabbatical. That's my PR/election year spin way of saying I got canned! Man, here I was thinking I was working for people who were more direct, more honest, and less sneaky. Just because they seemed nicer on the surface doesn't mean it's true in all arenas or that they can own up to miscalculations and market downturns. Silly me for believing what I wanted to believe.

Basically I was downsized out of the job. Up until that moment/meeting, they'd never once give me any indicator that my performance and attitude were anything less than great. Since this wasn't a commission based job (not entirely, at least), the recent spate of (over) hiring they did must have been hitting them harder in the pocketbook than they'd anticipated. Recent market downturn and all of that. The proverbial elephant in the room.

Of course, they couldn't/wouldn't own up to this. Not one iota. They attacked my performance (for nit-picky and easily fixable mistakes that they had no intention of allowing me to correct). They also said that it seemed a matter of "fit." As in "you don't fit with this company." That was news to me and all of my co-workers, who were quite shocked (not just pretend shock--it was real) at the firing and are now understandably nervous about their own jobs.

I understand that the bosses didn't want to ring the bell of "downsizing," but instead, their handling of the situation kicked up another kind of fear/morale dip in their staff. Not that I'm around for the fallout--obviously. But my sources are well-placed, of course.

Now for the first time in my working life, I'm drawing unemployment. (Something working only on commission never allowed me to do. So this is actually pretty cool in its own twisted way).

Instead of jumping into the first job opp that comes my way, I'm taking my time to regroup and strategize. Oh, and yes, to travel and just enjoy life for a spell. Luckily my overhead is low by NYC standards, so I won't go under financially (fingers crossed and Lord willing!)

Am I thinking of finally kicking real estate to the curb? (At least professionally, because I'd prefer to have a real, not cardboard, roof over my head)? Yes, I actually am seriously considering leaving this biz. I'd keep my license and prob do a few small deals on the side, but I don't know if I can handle having my bread buttered with such a sharp and volatile knife ever again.

Spring Cleaning

2008-04-13T10:19:00.006-04:00

Whew, it's been a busy month. I've been occupied with stimulating things like closet cleanings, a spring cold, and oh, yes, work in a slightly different sector of the industry.

So far it seems I've made the right move, but it has taken a bit of getting used to.

Getting used to not getting yelled at and reprimanded day after day.

Getting used to not having to approach my work from a defensive stance.

Getting used to leaders who are more direct about any projects and tasks, instead of expecting their team to read their minds.

Yes, an overall positive move, but one that I still can't quite believe is real. Being used to the stereotypical jerks in this business, I'm always pleasantly surprised when I meet real estate types who flout that cliche. They do exist. Amazing.

Of course, being real estate and being New York City, even the best run firms often do business with firms and agents who are sketchy. That always provides plenty of drama no matter how pleasant one's own office environment might be. Don't worry, I'll continue taking notes.

Oh, and I'm still waiting for a commission check from a long-closed deal. If it doesn't materialize this week, I'll have some choice words for the person in charge of doling out checks. Bank on that.

Yes, I Get it, Dammit!

2008-03-03T11:41:00.002-05:00

Dear Boss,

Yes, I understand now that I fucked up. You have made it incredibly clear to me. For this I thank you. At least you are being direct, and not a passive aggressive shit. You're miles ahead of most people in that regard.

Where we need to work is the part where you keep reiterating what I did wrong and how disappointed you are in me.

Boss: You air your concerns and take me to task. You reprimand. You express your emotional distress.

Me: I apologize and let you know what was going on in my mind that led to the mistake/miscalculation. I emphasize that it won't happen again.

Boss: "Yes, but. . ." [Wherein you repeat everything you said the first time.]

Me: I again reiterate that I very much regret the mistake, and again reassure you that it won't happen again. At this point, I drop any attempt at explaining myself, lest it come across as defensive (which it might have already, but it's too late now).

Boss: "Well, I just want you to understand that. . ." [Wherein you, the Boss, continues repeating the grievances.]

Me: [Silence, but nodding. Inside my mind, I'm losing my patience and looking for a way out of this tedious conversation]. Using all of my willpower not to shout at you, "Yes, I GET it!!! I fucking get it!!! I screwed up, you're upset. Hell, I'm upset. Do you think I enjoy making mistakes? Do you think I relish being reprimanded? But we've repaired the damage and I can't keep groveling and reassuring you any longer. At this point, you have to leggo your ego and attempt to trust that I'll make things right and not make the same mistake again. I can't let go of it for you! For fuck's sake!!!!"

Boss: [Embarrassed at having gotten so emotional and looking for a way to look tough again]: Okay, well I'm glad we got this cleared up. Get me the Sullivan File ready by the end of the day.

Me: Of course. I'm glad we talked this over. Thank you.

Please be advised that all records of this incident will be kept in your Personal/Personnel File, Boss. You know, that file in my mind that I keep...the one that helps me decide when I'm done with you and when you must be fired/systematically removed from my life.

Sincerely,

Your Loyal Employee

I Resolve. . .

2008-02-29T16:59:00.005-05:00

I resolve to turn over the proverbial new leaf, and that from here on out, I'll be the most perfect little worker bee possible. Or at least try. I'll drop the attitude, or do a better job of keeping it to myself. I'll practice my poker face and keep my snide comments to myself, or on this blog only. And while we're on cliches, I won't say anything at all unless it's something nice. Or something like that.

Can you tell that sometimes I really hate work and find it hard to just roll with the politics, policies, and the petty bullshit? But like most people who lack independent wealth, I need the money. Not so much so that I can "consume more," but in order to survive in the now and build towards future goals.

Trust me, my life isn't very lavish, or even very adventurous. I don't blow my money on shoes and designer clothing like a lot of young people I know. Most of my shirts cost under $20, for example. I enjoy dining out, but I mainly cook at home and rarely go to pricey restaurants when dining out. Expensive entertainment is a rare luxury in my world, which is fine by me. Books and DVDs or dinner parties with friends are more than enough to keep me happy and entertained. On the travel front, I honestly can't remember the last time I had a proper vacation or a fun road trip, not just a blessedly long weekend or a few days off to take care of personal business.

And guess what? Even those days off my employers begrudged me. They made sure to treat me to frequent phone calls and emails. One employer, upon my announcing my resignation, wanted to keep me well beyond the standard "two weeks' notice" period. And the next employer in line wanted an earlier start date. Had I not stood up for myself, I'd have had my last day at Job A on a Friday, and my first day at Job B the following Monday.

What's wrong with that, some of you might ask? A helluva lot, in my humble opinion. I am not so bound to money and routine that not having "someplace to go" every day for a couple of weeks would rock my world. It'd be a welcome relief, frankly. A person needs time off to decompress, re-organize, and sometimes to simply BE. Yes, our employers need people who can be counted on, but people with good track records should be given the benefit of the doubt. We should not have to apologize for this or explain it away.

Having a job sort of precludes having a life, it sometimes seems.

And yes, I do find myself asking, "Is that all there is to life?"

It can't be. I can't accept that. Thank goodness I at least live in a fun and interesting city.

And yet. . .the times when I had actual time to go to farflung places and do things, I didn't because, well, frankly the money was lacking. The eternal conundrum: plenty of time, but not enough money, or enough money, but no time.

Now that I make okay money but am still somewhat pressed for time due to seniority issues at work, my only hope is to really save money, and to take trips in between jobs. As for the saying, "It's easier to find a job when you have a job," well, I do believe that to some degree. But I also believe that I can do consulting in between gigs so that I on paper, I'm continuously employed.

Oh, and starting my own business isn't really an option at this point. I see most people who have their own businesses working MORE...my goal should be clear by this point. . .to work LESS but not be broke. Hell, I'd work 20 hours per week if I could get by with it and still make comparable money. Note to self: research this possibility.

Spotting A Nutjob Boss

2008-02-22T13:10:00.003-05:00

First impressions matter. There's no doubt about that. But what if your first impression turns out to be wrong? If you're on a date, it could result in a tedious evening and funny/mortifying stories to tell your friends when you get home. Or, on the extreme side, it could end with assault or worse. The nice guy or girl turns out to be a dangerous psycho. Get out alive while you can!

So what happens when that apparently kind, personable, and seemingly fair potential boss becomes your real boss and turns out to be the opposite of who you thought he or she was? At least after a bad date, you don't necessarily have to wake up next to that person, much less ever see them again.

But an unhinged boss is a person you must deal with at least five days a week. Seeing them first thing in the morning is almost as bad as waking up next to them. And if you happen to wake up next to your unhinged boss some morning, then you have problems that are well beyond the scope of this blog.

I once considered myself a good judge of character--a person with fairly solid instincts. Like most people, I've been duped a couple of times. In the work realm, I've been mostly right but sometimes wrong about bosses. For every wrong, there was indeed hell to pay.

This one boss seemed perfectly fine. Balanced, even. I'd go so far as to say that I honestly thought this person was nice and looked forward to working at that company.

Time soon told a different tale. This person had a chaotic, frantic quality sometimes seen in mental hospitals. The whole office was run in fear and anticipation of the next meltdown. We could actually get real work done when the boss wasn't around, as opposed to when the boss was there, constantly whining and interrupting. Oh, and the ethics of the honcho were questionable to say the least.

That's all bad enough (and there was much, much more, a lot of which I've blocked out). But what was worse was the way this all made me doubt myself. (Co-workers privately confessed to feeling the same way). We all thought that we must be crazy if we hadn't somehow picked up on this nuttiness from the get-go. That's the danger "getting to know" someone on an interview.

Those masochistic veterans who'd been around for years took it all in stride, as if it were somehow normal. Watching us new people react must have been entertaining and kinda sad for them.

That's the thing about crazy people. They draw you in, and soon you're questioning your own sanity and ability to judge character. Since that work experience, I've become much more skeptical about people in general, particularly those I might one day be required to work with--or more importantly, work for. In my next job, mark my words, I will know, dammit-- via the grapevine or other inside information whether-- or not there are nutty people in the office.

And yes, I know this all goes both ways. We've all worked with or known someone who has worked with a crazy co-worker. It must suck to be the supervisor in a situation like that. But at least in that scenario the person in charge can exert their power, and if not fire, then at least make life difficult for the nutty employee.

None of this helps, of course, when the boss is the nutjob who is convinced that everyone else has some sort of a problem.

Like a friend of mine used to say--"Look at the situation and ask yourself what's the common denominator. If it's you, then maybe you've got to change."

Nutty bosses rarely venture to query themselves in this way, and if they do, I'd bet money that they don't see themselves as problematic.

Quick Hello

2008-02-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

Have been under the weather for the past few days, and as real estate in the city sometimes makes me sick, I've avoided thinking about it as much as possible to avoid feeling worse. Will be back later this week to post on work woes and other topics, including the reality of moving in together too soon and the hassle and hells of crazy roommates. Stay tuned.

A Cruel Chess Game

2008-02-04T20:15:00.000-05:00

Sometimes we all overhear things that really disturb us. Recently, I overheard an upsetting conversation at a building owner's office.

Employee to Landlord: "Mrs. Smith called. She wants to see if you can freeze
her rent--not decrease it, but she just wants it frozen for the next year. Her
husband died recently and she's having trouble making it on the money the
government gives her from his benefits."

Without a moment's
hesitation, the landlord says, "No way. Forget it. If she wants a cheaper
rent she can move to another apartment in one of our buildings."

In my head, I was picturing Mrs. Smith as a feeble old lady, one who had lived in her rent controlled apartment for decades and still has a kitchen that was considered cutting edge--in the 1950s. Later on, I found out that Mrs. Smith's rent was not cheap, at least not in non-investment banker terms. The rent's just under $2000 a month for a market rate apartment.

Hell, I couldn't swing that, and neither could most of my friends, even those with decent jobs. That's why most of us either shack up or have roommates. The reality is that almost none of the other apartments Mrs. Smith might consider are any cheaper than where she lives now. So she either stays where she is and endures a rent increase she can't really afford, or endures the stressful undertaking (and cost) of a move.

Rather than allow this woman to coast along at the same rent as she paid up until now, this greedy landlord expect a recently widowed, possibly broken hearted and perhaps financially broke woman to pick up her life and move. To leave the apartment she shared with her husband and that she has called home for years, all so the landlord could re-rent the place for a couple hundred bucks more a month.

What complete and utter nonsense. What cruelty. And instead of taking what I felt was a reasonable request in stride, the landlord went on to complain about how rent control should be abolished--to twist things around and play the victim. As if somehow the landlord were the innocent victim of the system. As if somehow that would make a penny's worth of difference. Rent control or no, some landlords would take every opportunity to raise the rent of anyone, even a mouse in the basement if doing so were a viable option.

In other (hypothetical) words, rent control should be abolished so greedy landlords can charge top dollar for shithole apartments in shoddily-maintained buildings laden with violations? A few rent controlled and stabilized units might indeed drag down the bottom line a bit, but the outrageous prices so many owners charge--and get--for the market rate apartments should balance things out. If not, clearly the landlord is not managing the properties properly.

If a landlord is so obsessed with lining pockets with cash, then perhaps they should hire one of the i-bankers they love to rent to to manage their stock portfolios. Stop getting rich off the backs of others. (I know, I'm delusional and dreaming.)

This my friends, is a ground level story about why New York is losing one of its most vital resources--interesting people. In the name of greed, eventually no one but the i-bankers will be able to afford to live here. The artists, the avant-garde, and the just plain weirdos who keep our city alive and real will move on. Some say they already have.

Full disclosure: I've done deals, and gotten paid commissions from my fair share of lawyers, doctors, and finance types. But I've also busted ass to land rent-stabilized places for artists, helped many students find the last affordable and viable apartments in Manhattan, and generally gone to bat for dozens of clients to get them into decent and affordable apartments.

So yes, new people with fresh hopes and creative leanings continue moving to NYC all the time. Lots of people still believe in the idea of bohemian, artist-friendly New York. I like to think we still have a few good years left, but when I see cold, heartless maneuvers like the above, my doubts kick in, and the good days seem numbered. I see red. I see a game of chess where winning moves are incredibly unkind, short-sighted, and cruel.

Disconnected

2008-02-03T12:54:00.000-05:00

Long story short, my cell phone is broken beyond repair. It's a weird feeling, being this disconnected. It kinda spooked me initially, knowing that I can't call for help if anything bad happens. Nor can anyone reach me. Good thing I had nothing but a whole lot of nothing planned for this weekend. Otherwise I'd be SOL.

I'm in the process of using my wireless world connections to get a deal on a new (or new to me) phone. Adding to the disconnectedness, my land line, or at least the phone unit at home, croaked earlier this week. (Yes, I keep a landline. Perhaps that makes me seem impossibly old school and dated. Bear in mind: I was here in NY during 9-11, and phone service was erratic on both land lines and cells. I feel a smidge safer having a house phone.)

Seriously, only a select few people have my house phone number; I don't give it out; and I only use it when the cell is down or off because I can't stand the incessant ringing (really, vibing), anymore. In light of that, I'm quite fed up with paying around $50 a month for a house phone that's used more as a psychological safety net than anything else. So around 4 a.m. this morning, I ran across an infomercial for this: the Magic Jack.

It sounds almost too good to be true. The consumer reviews are somewhat mixed, but it seems that for light use, such as what I'd intend it for, it would be adequate. It hooks right into the DSL/high speed internet connection. If anyone has any thoughts on or experiences with this Jack thing, drop me a line or leave a comment.

In other news, I've added Google Analytics to this blog to help me track traffic, who is reading it, etc. A friend of mine tipped me off to it. We'll see if tech-challenged me can figure it out once it's gathered it's first round of data.

Gone in 60 Seconds

2008-02-02T18:54:00.000-05:00

Like an unrepentent romantic who keeps hoping a wayward lover will be true one day, every broker lives with the never-ending hope that despite the usual pains and pangs of deal-making, there is easy money to be made in this business.

That hope gets dashed on a weekly basis, if not more often. Case in point: I have a space that came onto the market recently. I got the keys and the very next day got a great offer from the first person who saw it. What's more, the normally cautious landlord adored the clients, even saying, "I liked them so much I would've spent the rest of the afternoon talking with them. But I had another appointment."

That sort of gushing rarely happens with this landlord. It was all brilliantly painless and easy. The kind of easy when you almost feel guilty for cashing the commission check.

Just a few bits of paperwork, a quick credit check, and we would be all set to sign leases. Except the clients began dragging their feet regarding the paperwork and running the credit. I warned them that the landlord would think that they were losing interest. Since we both knew they were still very much interested (right?)--they should work to seal the deal pronto.

I remember feeling a twinge of worry at that point, but I brushed it aside.

I shouldn't have. They backed out the next day, saying that the space would cost them too much.

The landlord was so disappointed in the idea of losing them, and our deal, that he immediately knocked the rent down by several hundred dollars. I'm still waiting to hear back from the clients. Far from feeling elated, I'm feeling more resigned at this point. Frankly, I'll be surprised if this all works out.

There are no easy deals. That idealistic, optimistic part of me still wants to believe in easy money, even though obviously we should all know better by now.

Junk Food For Dinner (A Boring Health-Related Post)

2008-01-23T19:16:00.000-05:00

I've been feeling so overwhelmed lately. Work is exhausting yet often tedious, and I am not hitting the gym as much as I should be. To help make up for my backsliding, I end up walking home from work most days and running errands on foot. Or, like one of my friends says, "putting the ol' 'get off the subway a few stops early' weight-control plan into place."

If I were living this way (long stretches of being seated, not going to the gym enough, and eating junk food for dinner), in any other city in the United States, with the possibly hilly exception of San Francisco, I'd be a cow. Luckily, one can stay in reasonably good shape in New York just by walking a lot, carrying groceries home, taking the stairs, etc.

So the occassional slice of chocolate cake for dinner won't ruin things, at least not just yet. Good thing, because I just had a very fugdey brownie from Blockhead's for dinner.

That Plantation Mentality, Part 1

2008-01-21T18:34:00.000-05:00

POLITICALLY CORRECT DISCLAIMER:

The following is in no way intended to make light of the very real plight of those who have ancestors who toiled on plantations, or heaven forbid, those who still toil in extreme conditions to this day. My intent here is to show how the Plantation Mentality finds more seemingly benign ways to manifest itself in our modern society, and to show that the mentality is alive and well today, even if not carried out as often in its most extreme and dehumanizing forms.

/END POLITICALLY CORRECT DISCLAIMER.

It's come to my thoughts lately that my actual job isn't so horrid. Sure, like any job, there are duties I find tedious, clients who annoy, and days from hell. But the actual work itself has taught me plenty, and most of my co-workers, with a few exceptions (all in upper, upper management), are hard working and personable.

However, I think the real kicker for me is the "service with a smile" nonsense. Don't get me wrong--I think one should strive to be pleasant enough on the job and not throw a lot of attitude around. Attitude on the job remimds me of anchovies on the plate--both should be used sparingly and infrequently lest others get offended and/or stop taking you seriously. And yes, I do admit that I have tried very hard to keep my attitude in check and to only use it when absolutely necessary. Even so, it does slip out every now and then, in much the same way a wayward anchovy might make its way onto some poor sap's unsuspecting Caesar salad. A girl like me can't help it (the attitude, not the anchovies. I assure you I am adept at anchovy avoidance and sick of the metaphor already), especially in a disorganized and chaotic business like the one we work in.

All of that aside, Management seems to feel that we employees should be throwing ourselves at their feet and writhing in ecstasy every time they make a stupid request. Yes, I said stupid. Asking the same thing twenty times, all the while knowing not a damn thing has changed, certainly does qualify as stupid in my book. Failure to answer with anything other that saccharine cheer-itude is met with passive aggressive behind the scenes maneuvering and whines that "So and So doesn't liiiikkkkeeee meeeee. Whyyyyyy??? I must punish her, then!"

Management is sneaky, too. They know just what lines not to cross with their employees, but they come dangerously close. One example: one manager is always hitching a ride with one or another of the contractors. So the poor contractors will have their vans parked outside like limos, sometimes for half an hour or more while the Plantation Owner talks on the phone, yells at the workers, and then finally gathers their shit and leaves. All the while, the Plantation Owners act as if the contractor doesn't have anything better to do other than to serve as a cab because the Plantation Owner is too damn cheap to just hail an actual cab in the first place. (One can take for granted that the Plantation Owners could well afford the cabs. Hell, they could buy a fleet of cabs and still come out ahead).

I'm sure the Plantation Owners think themselves quite the forces of nature. "Wow, just one second in my presence and the entire room goes silent," they think. "It must mean I'm powerful and charismatic. Geez, I'm really good at this stuff! People are awed into silence."

Not really, Bub. You're just despised and not trusted as far as any of us could toss you-- if any of us were so lucky to get the chance to do so. As for awed, believe me, we areconsistently awed at how you handle things. Your erratic, greedy, and inefficient decision making process is truly one of the only things that can silence a room full of people who know better. In that sense, you and your ilk are truly breathtaking.

RSS Feed Up and Running

2008-01-14T19:31:00.000-05:00

I'm so not a technical person. People like me keep entire companies like Geek Squad in business. So when a friend mentioned that I should hook up this blog to an RSS feed I was like , "KRS One hasn't made a record since last year, right?"

Here's an RSS explanation--it's not too geeky. Even I (mostly) understood it.

href="http://www.mezzoblue.com/archives/2004/05/19/what_is_rssx/">

That Sunday Feeling

2008-01-13T14:56:00.000-05:00

Trying to fight that Sunday afternoon dread--the "Awww crap! It's Sunday afternoon and I have to get up early and go to work tomorrow. I'd rather drink blood" feeling. I'm normally quite good at avoiding it (that feeling, and uh, also, drinking blood), but things have been so weird lately that work has sort of permeated my thoughts in off hours as well as on.

Part of me still does not know what I want to be when I grow up. Ridiculous, I know...I thought I'd have it all figured out by now. Ironically, I seemed to have had a much better grasp on my career path when I was younger. College, internships, full-time work in my field of choice. I did it all, and was on a solid path with minimal detours and distractions. Sure, I made a few mistakes, a couple of enemies, and ruffled a few feathers along the way, but somehow always managed to land on my feet.

Then somehow or another grad school, of all things, derailed my burgeoning journalism career. By the time I got out of grad school, 9-11 had happened, the economy had tanked, and my friends and I were reduced to taking whatever slim pickings were thrown our way. We were overqualified for truly entry level positions, and unable to land more mid-level jobs either. No longer students, we couldn't accept internships at most media outlets because they could not get by with "paying" us with college credit. I could no longer depend on the unpredictability of the journalism world to provide novelty and challenges during my working hours. My entire life had become a vortex of instability, unpredictability, and mere survival, with the occasional bit of novelty thrown in.

It's quite significant, then, that only in 2007 did myself and a few other close friends finally land decent enough jobs with salaries and in some cases, the increasingly novel menu of benefits. We agreed that 2007 was our Year of Transition. (FWIW, 2006 was roundly dismissed as the worst year of many of our lives. Funny how themes like this often cluster together. For awhile, I thought I was the only one who wanted to take a long walk off a short cliff in 2006. Turns out several people I'd lost close touch with while working insane hours for two-plus years had gone through similar trials during the exact same time).

All of that's behind us now. Or is it? Now that I'm at a "good enough" job, albeit one with a nutty, capricious boss, I find myself restless. The stability that I once craved is mine now, at least as long as I manage to hold onto it. But yet again, I'm not entirely sure which way to turn or where I want to go from here.

Resume Woes

2008-01-08T19:21:00.000-05:00

My resume's imperfect. I know this.

I also know that a bit of time off between jobs isn't unheard of, especially for people of my generation. Remember, when we graduated from college, the economy was dicey. People I know practically sold naming rights to their firstborns in exchange for shitty entry level jobs with zero benefits.

Plus, back then, the whole concept of "gap years" was coming into fruition. Suddenly that year off after high school or college to help child prostitutes in Southeast Asia (while perhaps scoring fine Asian hash during one's downtime) didn't seem so hippy dippy and odd anymore. It became normal, and in some quarters, expected.

Given that all of this is pretty much a given these days, I felt a bit squirmy today when asked about a couple of minor gaps on my res. In fact, I felt more exposed than at my last GYN appointment.

One resume gap was after my graduation..."What were you doing for those months?" the person asks.

Well, I was fucking enjoying not punching a clock and putting up with office bullshit. I traveled abroad (but not for long enough!). I relaxed. I miraculously found an apartment and a crazy roommate. But most importantly...I looked for a job, dammit.

Gone are the days where everyone you know goes straight from cap 'n gown to corporate clock punching. That I even had to explain myself kinda irked me. I mean, the questions are expected, but the whole tone of the questioning was sort of...I dunno...borderline accusatory.

If I sound a bit defensive, it's because I am. I never took a proper semester abroad or "gap year." Of course, on an academic calendar, then on the calendar of a recent grad, I enjoyed more work-free days than most working Americans. Duh. But believe it or not, I worked during most of my school vacations. And when I wasn't working, I wasn't exactly enjoying a carefree life. Even on my most exhilarating of travels, I always knew that the time to find a real job was just around the corner. And yes, finding that real job was every bit as hard as I'd suspected it would be. Perhaps even harder.

So just the idea of anyone looking at that time of my life in an even vaguely accusatory manner really gets my back up. I know how my friends and I busted ass to land jobs, and I remember all too well how we all suffered: the anxiety, the dashed hopes, the fears of bill collectors, and, perhaps worst of all, even the faintest idea of our parents saying that they'd "told ya so."

It's harder in today's world to realize one's dreams. This overpopulated is growing increasingly competitive and elitist. The jaded person in me thinks the "you can be anything you want to be" line is a load of crap.

But I guess for the young and naive, such platitudes are good motivators. What's saying? "Shoot for the stars. At the very least, you'll land on the moon."

Penalized for Not Kissing Sufficient Ass

2008-01-07T19:52:00.000-05:00

Without going into detail, I can honestly say I've been officially penalized at work for not kissing sufficient ass. It's an unofficial job requirement...one I clearly can't satisfy.

A co-worker of mine who seems to have a smoother time dealing with the horrid excuse for a exec who runs our firm recently told me, in all sincerity, that a "a little ass kissing goes a long way with 'So in So.'" My co-worker was trying to help me by basically encouraging me to pucker up, and pronto.

Uh. No. And no. While I appreciate the attempt on my co-worker's part to make my tenure at the office smoother and less frustrating, I will not be taking the aforementioned advice. EVER.

I'd rather get fired than kiss some idiot's ass.

(That being said, I feel grudging admiration my co-worker's ability to do what I can't, yet I don't think less of the co-worker. To each his own, right? Obviously the co-worker is a bigger person than I in this regard, and would clearly have a better shot at public office than I ever would. Not that I'd ever want to whore myself out as a candidate, but that's another topic for another day.)

Back to my Ass Kissing Aversion: I'm sure I'm not the only one on the planet who feels this way. My stubborn streak makes it ridiculously easy for me to not give in, though. Perhaps that's the difference between me and a lot of people.

Friends in High Places

2008-01-05T14:56:00.000-05:00

As fortune would have it, I've run into a few job leads this week. Friends have tipped me off to some openings in what could possible turn out to be much greener pastures. (For the record, I adore my friends!) Even if nothing pans out immediately, it feels great to know that I don't have to take the current nonsense from the current boss forever.

I firmly believe that all jobs come with a certain level of BS and annoying tasks. That's why it's called work, not "paid recreation." However, the current situation is over-the-top in the BS Department. I'm old enough to have been around and to have worked in many types of workplaces. The last time I was treated with this little respect was when I was cruising down the hall without a Hall Pass in high school. Even as a lowly intern during my college years, I was treated with more dignity and kindness.

In other news, I showed a space today in Upper Manhattan that had mad peeps milling around in front--talking loudly, laughing, smoking. Free country and all that, but they were kinda creepy, to the point that one of the clients seemed truly turned off. Fun.

Damned if You Do, Damned if You Don't

2008-01-04T19:24:00.000-05:00

I've been making an effort towards forcing myself to be more detail-oriented and thorough at work. It seems that what Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss (CMM from here on) wants, after all. And, believe it or not, I've been doing it all with a convincing fake smile. I was almost proud of myself. Until. . .

Today CMM gives me a bunch of stuff that CMM wants updated. Ok, fine. I go through everything, looking into each property in detail, and provide the update towards day's end. With a frickin' SMILE, too!

CMM Boss then complains to another one of the higher ups that "I already knew XYZ. Why did she include that information on here?"

(Then why the hell did CMM Boss ask me in the first place? More interestingly, why didn't the boss have the balls to approach me directly if there was some sort of a problem with the update I provided?)

The other higher up said, "Well, if Anon NY Realtor hadn't provided the info you already knew, then you'd be complaining about that instead."

Which is 100% right. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is ever good enough for CMM.

While it's better to err on the side of caution with regards to Chickenshit Micromanaging Boss, it's an incredible waste of energy all around, especially considering that no matter what, there will be complaints and dissatisfaction.

Office Politics Blues

2008-01-02T21:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever worked for someone you could barely stand to look at, much less take orders from? I have, and I do.

This particular person takes everything the worker bees say or do in the wrong way. I've been mis-interpreted so many times on this job, I'd started to doubt my sanity. Seems that lately every innocuous remark, or "just FYI" email has been taken as either aggressive, passive aggressive, or somehow offensive in amazingly creative ways I'd never have been able to think up on my own. It must take a lot of talent and hella shitty self-esteem to:

A) Think everything your workers say or do is a personal affront to one's competence as a boss.

and

B) To be so much on the defensive that you manage to mis-interpret even the most mundane of utterances.

Seriously, the world doesn't revolve around you. Or me. Did ya miss that memo? Oh yeah, you did. Because you never read the memos your workers send you and you come storming into our offices bitching and whining about issues that have already been dealt with ten times over. Read the memo. It'll save you a world of stress. (I know you don't give a rat's ass about any stress it'll save us. We're here on this earth for no other reason than to serve you, after all. It's why we were born. It's our reason to live.)

Thank goodness my co-workers are a talented, hard-working, and equally picked on/mis-interpreted bunch. Though I will admit some of them have adapted in Stockholm Syndrome-esque ways that don't seem too functional. I'm like the new prisoner who's all "Hey guys, this isn't fair! We don't have to take this crap."

And they're all, "Yeah, but they give us stale bread and lukewarm water a couple of times a day. Just you wait. You'll be grateful for that someday, missy. Maybe you'll even get watered down pea soup if you're really good."

I hate to be this way, but I think the ol' resume's about to get dusted off for another round of fun. Though there are some major changes coming up at the office, so depending on how those things play out. . .

We'll see. For now it seems the smartest thing to do is to try act like the personal attacks aren't really personal (whatever) and to sip (not gulp!) a glass of fine red when I get home at night.

What a shit way to start the new year.

Happy 2008, folks.

New Year's Res

2007-12-31T19:29:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-28T21:58:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-13T19:17:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-26T20:46:00.000-04:00

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

2007-09-13T20:55:00.000-04:00

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. . .

2007-09-13T20:15:00.000-04:00

. . .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

2007-09-05T18:37:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-01T11:17:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-07-25T10:03:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-20T13:15:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-17T09:44:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-07-10T17:54:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-26T16:01:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-18T17:33:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-09T17:56:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-07T19:57:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-05-31T11:02:00.001-04:00

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

2007-05-29T14:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-22T18:32:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-21T16:52:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-10T18:09:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-05-09T18:22:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-07T18:16:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-25T16:40:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-23T14:57:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-13T12:02:00.000-04:00

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)

2007-04-02T14:42:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-03-28T13:59:00.000-04:00

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. . .

2007-03-27T14:03:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-27T14:00:00.000-04:00

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????

2007-03-25T15:38:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-13T20:08:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-08T16:21:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-17T14:02:00.000-05:00

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!!!!

2007-02-14T15:59:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-11T16:02:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-07T15:18:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-02-06T13:20:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-02-05T14:22:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-05T13:53:00.000-05:00

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.