Joe and Marge

by Kris Berg

Realtor, Associate Broker

Author website

In a classic Bawld Guy moment, Jeff Brown reminded us recently that hard work, not a magic formula nor even an ability to predict five out of six Power Ball numbers, is what makes a successful real estate career. All of the motivational seminars in the free world can not replace the experience of one real-life transaction. The fanciest widgets and the sexiest web site flash intros will never replace feet on the ground. Technological applications augment a solid business plan built on fundamentals; they do not replace it. We work in real estate, and there is a reason it is called “work.”

Jeff mentioned that he started his career converting For Sale By Owners (FSBOs). I always suspected we were twins. Just for fun, I thought I would share the story of my first transaction. We all remember our first – with a lot of fondness and more than a little humility. This is just a little walk down memory lane self-indulgence on my part but, if a few more people follow suit and share their “firsts,” we might start to connect the dots for the newer agents. I suspect we will see a common thread of tenacity and drive, stuff that can’t really be taught or learned.

Make no mistake. For the new agent wanting to jump-start a real estate career, this is a difficult market. But then, they all are. The first thing that will strike you is that your new career laughs in the face of the supply and demand laws of nature. There are more real estate agents than there are left-over casseroles needing a shave in my refrigerator right now, and certainly more agents than there are potential customers. This is survival of the fittest, and in the virtual Plinko game that is your office, within seconds of your arrival, every single one of your fellow agents will be plotting to throw you under a bus.

What distinguishes the working agent from the non-working agent is “work.”  A fundamental ingredient of this work is a “client” who wishes to buy or sell a home. Ideally, this “client” is not themselves a licensed real estate agent, which means that your potential customer base actually consists of twelve people in Your State.

So, your real work as an agent begins with your first customer. My first customer was Joe and Marge. (Actually, Joe and Marge were two people, but they lived in the same house, so I can only count them once. It’s a real estate thing.) This is a story of youthful exuberance, naiveté, misfortune, and unimaginable bravery in the face of adversity, but enough about Joe and Marge.

This is really the tale of how I weaseled my way into the home and hearts of an unsuspecting couple who needed to sell. I will begin at the end. I listed and eventually sold their home. The fact that my first transaction was a listing rather than a buyer sale was in itself unique. Listings are the Holy Grail of real estate, listings provide advertising opportunity, and listings breed more listings, kind of like bunnies. Buyers don’t generally allow you to place a sign in their front yard announcing, “Represented by Kris!!” Your only hope with buyers is that they will share your story with their friends, or, in some cases, your only hope is that they won’t. Sure, a buyer may become a seller some day, but you could be the day shift hostess at Walmart my then. Better to get the listings coming out of the gate.

What also made my first transaction unique was that Joe and Marge were initially FSBOs. FSBOs by their very nature are distrusting of agents. They like control, they firmly believe they can do the job themselves and better, and they will always know more than you do, even when they do not. Despite this, the Agent Needing to Eat can find some opportunity in the failed-FSBO-as-potential-client arena.

If I had possessed any formal training whatsoever, I would have never found myself at their kitchen table this weekday evening. I would have been holding an Open House for a successful Listing Agent, I would have been forcing my newly printed business cards into the clinched fists of my “Sphere of Influence” (formerly known as Friends), or I would have been addressing postcards with the much-anticipated Recipe of the Month to unsuspecting neighbors (October = Bologna Shapes with Mayonnaise Dipping Sauce). Yet, I was unshackled by the encumbrances of actual, practical knowledge. My two-week training program at the Rock Solid Brokerage corporate offices had not yet begun, but I needed to eat. So, I picked up the newspaper classified section. (In those days, we had things called “newspapers” which were made from paper stock of tree origin). It was the beginning of what would be a grueling day at the office. I made one phone call.

“Hello, this is Kris from Rock Solid Brokerage. I see your home is for sale. I specialize in Your Neighborhood (I think I sort of know where it is) and might have a buyer who is interested in Your Home (perhaps in August, 2015 if I am not working at Jamba Juice by then). Are you cooperating with agents who bring the buyer, and might I be able to stop by to preview the property?”

This is where the clouds parted and the angels sang, albeit off-key. “We are actually thinking about listing with an agent”, Marge confided. “Perfect!” I shouted, jumping through the phone and giving ol’ Marge a big bear hug. “Why don’t I come by and give you my Marketing Plan and preview your home at the same time? We could kill two birds with one stone!”

How prophetic. My birds agreed to meet with me.

Now, at this point in my long, illustrious career, it is important to remember that I have NO Marketing Plan. I have no plan at all. So, I fill my briefcase with a package of listing forms which are as familiar to me as the blueprints for Hubble Telescope, and I fill in the air space with random company promotional propaganda leaflets pulled from the shelves of the Rock Solid resource room, one of which undoubtedly involved step-by-step instructions for replacing the toner in the office copy machine. With my remaining free hand, I grab all arbitrary office items within reach (and which I believe included a two-hole punch and a desk lamp) so as not to look unprepared, and I head for the door.

With the help of my “stuff”, and much to the chagrin of Joe and Marge, I was able to stretch my visit into a painful, three-hour presentation. I spent two hours ogling over their most special of special homes, while I wisely devoted the remaining hour to discussing pricing, the reputation of my company, and the inherent dangers of continuing the photocopying process with a depleted toner supply. Stocking-clad limbs wrapped firmly around one leg of the casual dinette, I refused to budge. When their attempts at feigning death still failed to send me home, Joe and Marge, motivated by the need for dinner, oxygen and sleep, at last surrendered. “She seems like a nice enough girl, Joe, and I just don’t want to go through this again”. Ha! Put that in your testimonial book!

I returned to the office with a listing contract that looked like we had all prepared it with a box of crayons while wearing coordinating oven mitts. Perhaps that opposable thumb came in handy after all! Eventually, I had to return to rewrite the contract properly, but I had the job. I have since looked back and done the math; this first job resulted in eight subsequent transactions as a direct result of that one yard sign. And, don’t feel sorry for Joe and Marge. They got fabulous representation and results. I worked my hiney off. They were all I had, and I had nothing else to do.

If there is a moral to my story, it is this. If you are new in the business, go ahead and attend the classes. Learn the stuff in the office training manuals and get motivated. Then, get off your butt, and go find your Joe and Marge.