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.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Myth Busting: Real Estate is NOT a Great Career for Artists, Actors, Entertainers!!!!
I hope all of you starving artists who think working in real estate would be a good day job--the kind of job that will keep food on the table, the rent paid, and your financial worries at bay--get this memo in time. Please pay close attention: Real Estate is probably the worst career for people who don't have steady work or cash flow to begin with.
Of course, ignore the above caveat if you have a lot of money in the bank and/or a partner, spouse, or Sugar Daddy/Mamma to support you. If you're trying to claw your way up without much (or any) help, please consider this entry a public service annoucement.
This propogation of this "artists as realtors" urban myth has been eating at me for some time. It's everywhere, and it's dangerous. Like a tabloid story about Lindsay, Britney, or Saint Angelina, they start with a grain of truth, and then blow things waaaayyyyy out of proportion.
The thrust of the articles, as per industry trade mag The Real Deal:
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:
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.
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.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
April Fool’s Day Came Early This Year
Wow, talk about feeling like a complete sucker. I got my tax forms in the mail, and feel like laughing and screaming at the same time. I knew I wasn’t breaking any commission records in 2006, but dayyuuummmm, I didn’t know things were this horrific. No, I’m not going to name numbers, but let’s just say I’m way below average. Even my own middling average.
It’s an insult really. To spend your entire year working six and seven days a week, dealing with morons, getting screwed over by owners and clients alike, only to see that the fruits of your labor barely allow you to break even, and that’s before taxes. Spare me! It really feels rotten, like studying all semester for a final and then flunking. Now I know what JFK Junior must've felt like when he flunked the bar exam. I could go on. Bottom line is I feel like a colossal jerk.
Such rotten news isn’t easy for a former straight-A student and Columbia University graduate to take. I don’t think I’m entitled to a cushy glam gig, mind you, but a living wage would be nice. Especially since I’m more than willing to do actual work. But then again, I’m not completely surprised. Financially, things were rough in 2006, even if I didn’t allow myself to look at the exact numbers from week to week and month to month. I just tried to live from day to day, and I think that may have helped me feel happier over all. At the very least, not tormenting myself with every nickel and dime that passed in and out of my hands allowed me fewer sleepless nights.
Last year was rotten in a lot of other ways, so I’m incredibly glad to have kicked 2006 to the curb. Now we’ll see how bad my accountant thinks the damage will be. The ball’s in his court for the moment. I’ll use that time to give some serious thought to what I need to do next.
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.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
The Death of Common Courtesy
Common courtesy must not be "in" this season. Or maybe it died a slow death years ago and I just didn't notice.
I'll try to make this brief, as I have to run off to remove a sign from a rented space (hooray) before the super trashes it. I was yelling "No basura por favor!!!!" when we spoke a few minutes ago, but I'm not sure he understood. This guy is a sweetheart, but he often pretends to understand me when really he doesn't. God bless ESL.
Anyways, back on topic. Real estate is a great for career for people who love the following:
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Inevitabilities: Death & Taxes a.k.a. No, I am NOT Rich!
It's that time of year again. Time to bend over and. . .well, those of you who are 1099ers know the next part. Tax time. Time to feel like you're getting screwed, and not in a good way. UGH. I am so scared to check my mail and see what horror awaits me in the form of 2006's 1099. I'm going to tell my accountant to be extra aggressive this year, and can provide the receipts to back me up. 2005 was my first tax year in real estate, and dammit if I didn't get reamed.
From comparing notes with other realtors, it seems some of my colleagues, who definitely make more, are paying significantly lower taxes than I am. What's up with that? To add insult, the Real Estate Board of New York is considerate enough to choose this very time of year, tax time, to collect dues. From what I can gather, they send out invoices right around New Year's, when everyone's feeling spent, literally and figuratively, after the holidays. Even a couple hundred extra dollars can really hurt around this time.
Oh well, REBNY's strong suit has never been consideration, or even accuracy when it comes to calculating dues. They sent my office all sorts of wildly varied calculations last year. It seems the longer you've been in the business, the more dues you pay. From what I can gather, they don't base it on your income, so some broker making six figures who has been in this business six years would pay the same dues as another broke ass broker who has also been doing this for six years. (Not that anyone who is doing that badly should still be in this racket after six years, but I digress.)
Which brings me to another pet peeve. People seem to think that we Manhattan realtors are rich. Folks, let me assure you that in this instance, the 80/20 Rule definitely applies. Twenty percent of the realtors are making 80% of the money. Trust me. When I tell people back home that I work in real estate in Manhattan, they have visions of dollar signs in their eyes. If only. They don't know the reality of how expensive it can be to live here, and how difficult to get ahead. How you can be about to make several thousand dollars one minute, only to have some idiot back out, or some landlord or co-op board destroy the whole deal.
Now I won't lie--when the money's good, it's good. For me, it's the best money I've ever made. (Which may not be saying much. See also my introductory post.)However, there are times when the money sucks, or doesn't flow at all. Winter is generally awful, for example. A few realtors I know get part-time retail jobs during the holidays in order to make ends meet. Those who have done well enough in the busier season just take off on extended vacations if they can.
If you're like me, hovering somewhere in the middle, you do neither. You pray that your next deal doesn't come crashing down, that you might get to take a long weekend somewhere warm, and you wake up in the middle of the cold nights, with no heat in your prewar aparment, frozen with worry. You have perpetual tension and compression in your shoulders from the strain. Just ask my yoga teacher.
Any honest realtor, if you corner him or her after a few drinks, will tell you what I've just told you. Let me put it to you this way: According to the New York Times, "28,700 brokers and sales agents in Manhattan alone and 66,700 in all five boroughs." They can't all be making six figures or higher. Sometimes we really struggle in this business. But we have to always smile in public and act like we're moguls-in-the making. After all, who wants a broke loser as an agent?
All of those perky positive "the market's never been better" realtors you hear about in the New York Times and elsewhere have a vested interest in making themselves look good, like players, and in making the market sound solid. It's how we all make our money, after all. It's spin, plain and simple. Or, as we brokers might say, "marketing language."
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."
Monday, February 5, 2007
An End to the Procrastination and Welcome!
Well Hello. I have been thinking about and talking about creating this blog for a long time, and I've finally taken the plunge. It's been slow at work, the money is coming in at a pathetic trickle, and honestly, I've got time on my hands.
A little about me: I'm a twentysomething female Manhattan realtor. I'm overeducated, underpaid, and find myself wondering on a daily, if not hourly basis, how the hell I ended up in this crazy business full of weirdos. The short story (a common one, almost an embarrassing cliche) is that I came here to make my mark in the Big City and quickly ran up against the reality of making a living. After grad school, I worked numerous crap jobs for little money. A few highlights:
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. . .
A little about me: I'm a twentysomething female Manhattan realtor. I'm overeducated, underpaid, and find myself wondering on a daily, if not hourly basis, how the hell I ended up in this crazy business full of weirdos. The short story (a common one, almost an embarrassing cliche) is that I came here to make my mark in the Big City and quickly ran up against the reality of making a living. After grad school, I worked numerous crap jobs for little money. A few highlights:
- Around the holidays one year, I wrapped presents as a personal assistant at a well-known fashion house. Robert Redford got a sweater that year. My tenure there was short lived. Apparently my preferences in wrapping paper wasn't up to their "taste level."
I worked as a research associate for a truly nutty, disorganized, borderline-creepy professor. The day he asked me what I was wearing was the day that I knew my tenure there was winding down. Indeed it was.
I tried working in the bar/club/nightlife scene. I soon realized I had grown to truly hate going out, and that being there was torture. Plus they stiffed me a bunch of times, so fuck that!
Did I apply for "real jobs?" Hell yes. However, the jobs I could get that were related to my degree would barely pay for my daily coffee. And that was before taxes. Newsflash: I didn't go to school to obtain an expensive hobby. I have real bills to pay. Rent. Utilities. The Parental Units are NOT footing the bill for my Big City Adventure. I trust that I'll never have a trust fund. I'm on my own out here. I'm sure many of you can relate.
Infuriated and exhausted from getting the ass end of everything, I decided to find a compromise...a job where I could work for both myself and a company and make decent money while setting my own hours. Freelance work was too spotty and erratic (see above.) Working for The Man ain't my bag (see also above.) Whoring myself out like this no longer felt like an option, and I don't "do" Sugar Daddies, so I decided to do real estate instead.
That's where things get interesting. That's what this blog is about.
Oh, and if you're wondering about the pigeon I'm currently using as my avatar....Well, it's symbolic. Bear with me here. Real estate agents in Manhattan are about as common as pigeons, and sometimes just as despised. You'll see what I mean in future posts. . .
Still Getting Used to This Thang
Bear with me, as I'm new to blogging. It will take me a little while to get used to posting, editing posts, formatting these pages in a readable way, etc. I checked my blog, NoVacancyNYC, on another computer, and found it barely readable. In fact, it might have only been readable to me because I knew what I'd written. I'm thinking bold typeface might help? We'll see.
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