Rejection

This is a baked potato made out of ice cream. We couldn't figure out what the butter was made out of...

It seems like I face rejection at every turn. In this job, People just simply don't call me back. They say no thanks to apartments when their options are severely limited by time, space or, most often, money. They work with many brokers at a time, forcing me to either hyper compete or drop out. They even say yes sometimes, followed by the nevercall. It is frustrating and not always easy to keep a good attitude. Especially when my time is my own and I feel like 90% of my effort is squandered on endeavors that produce an energy sucking return or no return at all.

I have faced a lot of rejection in my personal life too. Take the Hamburger, for instance. This experience involved risk and complete rejection. It was a little like how I feel about celebrities; if they just had the chance to get to know me, I am sure they would want to be best friends and hang out all the time, chuckling at my constant and witty insights, my dry humor. Some of those celebrities would probably even want to date me or get married. I almost sent this not so secret in to the website PostSecret, but when I mentioned it to a friend last night, she not only shared this entire sentiment, but she more or less gave me the words I just typed, since they were so similar to my own. Not much of a secret, I guess.

The lesson that's going on for me right now and for the past several months is about being okay anyway. Real estate is just what is there to provide this mirror for me, so I can see the lesson. Rejection hurts no matter what, it's just what happens afterward that is of interest to me. I can never control whether someone will like me or not, whether someone will rent a particular apartment or not, whether someone will have the decency to return my phone call or calls. What I can control is how much power I give the situation, how much of my energy pours into it, and how I let it affect my sense of who I am as a real estate agent, as a woman and as a person.


When did DLR get so uncool looking? I miss his blond stringy hair!

Seriously, I am sure George Clooney would change him mind about marriage if we just had coffee together!

A recent exchange

Quoting Eve Levine :
hey lame-o,

do you still work here? i can't deal with breaking in someone new. look how
well it worked with that dude a---! i successfully evicted him from the desk
by having g--- tell him we are now working together. he was snotty about it.
m--- w--- is here now. when he walked in i thought id seen a ghost. just
kidding. hows your concussion?
--
Eve Levine

Quoting s---@benjaminjames.com:

[Hide Quoted Text]
Eve,

I went to visit my brother over the weekend and just got back tonight. I'll
be
in tomorrow. That's very funny about A---. M-- W was there? That's weird, I
thought he quit. Anyway... Later!

S---


Quoting eve@benjaminjames.com
s---

i have no idea about mr. vitamins. i thought he quit too. i wonder if he quit
selling vitamins or if he is going to retire from all forms of work by the end
of this year. j--- also showed up and was winking at everyone from across the
room. it's too bad he isn't a better real estate agent. t--- comes in now and
looks like chuck norris with his scruffy blond beard. from now on, please
refer to filemaker as "n--'s blog." this phrase employs two words d--- doesn't
like. i gave all my clients to j--- and j--- for the week since i am catering
(trying to make money for the rent). wow, this office stuff is hilarious!
i'll be in tomorrow afternoon, see you then maybe.
eve

Speaking of apartments

Sometimes I miss my old apartment. Like when it comes to rock n' roll, I really miss it. Since breaking up with my last boyfriend, I haven't been participating much in rock n' roll, not going to shows or caring about bands at all or anything, but the other day I went to the Virgin Store after work to see some old acquaintances play a free record release mini show.

I used to throw parties and ask bands to play, which was so much fun. It's one thing I have always lamented about living in New York--there just isn't enough space to have that kind of place as your primary residence. Well, I haven't figured it out yet. Plus, I think all the bands in New York are way too cool for me anyway. And it seems easy to get a show here.

There are times I can really relate to my customers' pickiness, like when they are comparing all the apartments I show them to something they used to have, which, I think is what's going on 99% of the time someone is too picky. We've all had a place we loved and nothing could ever measure up to it. It's just that some people are more attached than others. I was really attached to my place in Oakland, and I am really attached to my place now. I can only imagine the nightmare I'll be when I am ready to buy something. But I've never really looked for an apartment either.

The people I am working with now are a mix. Not everyone suffers from this attachment affliction. But the affliction is also slow to reveal itself. Especially to the afflicted. My Ralph Lauren window designer has fallen off the map, just as I found her apartments. $8000 is in Switzerland skiing for the week and wants to come back to see two Lower Fifth Avenue places which are too small for her. A young pair of girls I have been corresponding with for a couple of weeks has re-materialized and now seems serious after not being able to get into the Habitat (financial requirements are too strict). The investment banker dudes I took out yesterday loved what I showed them and then never called me back. Gramercy/UWS DM/Pre-War has three months, so I think she'll find herself compromising in the height of the season. I have two studio customers who may or may not show up again.

I have three co-workers who want to work with me. For now, I think I like the idea, as long as it remains limited. Until I find a partner with whom I can really dig in, limited edition partnerships are welcome and can provide respite from the loneliness that plagues a new real estate agent. Oh, and I successfully evicted my newish next door desk neighbor in favor of one of the people who wants to work with me. Sweet!

Omigodomigodomigod!!!

It's so awesome, omigodomigodomigod. My hairdresser called and we have an appointment for Sunday. I am excited about that. There's no impressing the Hamburger at this point, but there's always the rest of the known world. Please note that in my POSTCARD I sent to the hairdresser, I advised her to require that all her customers make their requests in this or an equally grandiose manner. All joking aside I told her to really call, because there was a boy I had to impress. And she did, and now I am working with the rest of the known world, not the Hamburger. HOT STUFF!!!

BTW, the above is a picture of me at work, or rather not working. I look businessy, but not so serious. Wanna rent an apartment from me? I kinda hate this store. My friend picked up a little terry outfit and suggested I buy it for the Hamburger and bring it over to his house. I thought that was a fantastic idea and continued on in this line of humor for the next several minutes.

The window designer is suddenly too busy to come out and see her perfect apartments I found for her. I am bummed because when you actually find something for someone who has impossible standards, it feels great to actually make the match. But many many times the customer does not cooperate in this ego game. Well, maybe today!

My other customers are kinda duds right now. I need to focus on getting some new ones. Some desperate ones!

Coming soon!

More funny pictures and updates! I haven't forgotten about you!

Junior's

Getting older is rad. It's like you just keep getting better at living your life and being yourself as each year passes, even as you live through each day. I guess a better way to put it is that I don't feel like I necessarily make better decisions or smarter decisions or plan more thoroughly, I just feel better about the things that happen, more in control of how I feel, not of what happens.

I had the best time today, driving around Brooklyn in my big old car, listening to the radio, wandering around Target trying on clothes. I got what I went out to get (the Oprah Anniversary DVD Box Set for Amy Bez's birthday), but not from a small vendor in Williamsburg. I guess the people here are too ironic to need any help from Oprah. But in Greenpoint, we definitely need her help. Oprah, that is, and Amy Bez too.

I got all dressed up in my new cheap clothes and I must say that I looked FABU. I am quite attracted to myself. And humble about it. Moving on, I have never been to Junior's but I will definitely go back. It was this beautiful big old Brooklyn upscale downscale soul food world famous diner filled with loads of well-dressed and well-mannered black folks out eating some of the most delicious food in the known world. Our waiter was really nice and quite attentive. His name was Kaiser, and he was from the Middle East. He even brought a few waiters over to sing Happy Birthday when our cheesecake slice arrived. Sweet.

On the way home, I found the birthday songs on my ipod and we sang Happy Birthday at the top of our lungs to Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder and some crazy little Filipino kids, and maybe a midget.

What does all this have to do with real estate? Nothing. It has to do with healing and balance and perserverance and keeping a good attitude and enjoying things and doing what you want to do and real estate is thrown in there as a part of life, as a part of my life as it is going right now. We are a good group.

Duh

I am not too bright sometimes. And if you wanted to see up my nostrils, this is your picture.

I left work this afternoon to go out to the shop where I had my horny car fixed so I could get a note that said my car doesn't have an alarm so I can argue my $195 noise complaint. I didn't take into consideration that it is Friday. The shop was closed because they are Jews and it is Friday. Now that is something that doesn't really happen in California much, but in New York it is often a factor. Oops, and not too bright. But I can probably figure out they won't be there Saturday.

Real estate is a little sluggish for me right now, or maybe it is me that is sluggish.

I wrote the above last night. It feels like it was just last weekend, like the week that passed never happened.

Well, today I should have two appointments, one with some lady and her husband looking for a two bed two bath that sent me five ad links for 88-90 Lex. The problem is that that building is one block away from "the good school district," as she puts it. I am going to try to show it anyway. The other place is a cond-op on 24th and Lex, remember the kid from Long Island carrying his clothes around in a duffel bag? That building. Right now, it is a 1.5 bed but with 2 baths. I hope the kitchen and bathrooms are nice. I have to call the listing broker back and get a firm appointment, though. He called me twice last night, the second time at 9:45!


Later, it's off to Junior's for a birthday party for the lovely and talented Amy Bez. I think hers is the only name I have really used in this "journaling around." Oh well, that is because she is fabulous and the world should know it!

By the way, I think the Hamburger and I are on our way to breaking up. I've now started calling him my ex-boyfriend, in the house, of course. True, technically nothing ever really happened, but in my mind, we've lived a lifetime together, and now it's time for all that to end. Thanks to the girl who draws the truest comics I've ever laid eyes on!

Packages

I decided not to go to work today! I had my healing appointment at noon and this afternoon I am doing some packaging and mailing of various objects and letters and cards. I am still also very congested and coughy so not going to work is just fine.

Right before my appointment I was taking a shower and I heard the doorbell ring several times. No one except our landlady ever comes to the door. So it must be her. I got out of the shower in a hurry and answered the door to find her with some young man. She gave some garbled explanation about painting the apartment and rapidly deferred to him. He explained that he was a location scout for a pilot called "Drift" they are filming for ABC. They wanted to shoot our apartment as a possible location for this show. I said sure and chatted with both of them while he took the pictures. If they choose our apartment it should yield a nice little check. Maybe it'll pay our rent, or even more!

The whole time I was thinking about the idea that money doesn't always have to come from work. It can come from other places too. I mean, who would ever imagine that someone would ring your doorbell and say can I give you money to use your house for a little while?

Of course if they don't pick us I'll be crushed!! Just kidding.

But I did cement the understanding that our landlady thinks our furniture is gorgeous (I am laughing while I write this because although it is true, it is ridiculous) and it seems she likes us and thinks we are grown ups now that we have no more house guests from Oakland and a living room full of grandma's furniture.

This grandma, not the other one. The other one's furniture is all white wicker with floral pillows and gold accents. Tres Miami! Speaking of Miami, I told Mr. Florida I didn't have an apartment to show him today. He seemed a little disappointed, like he wanted to see me again but I just don't have it, and I can't leave Brooklyn today.

Still waiting

What the fuck. I am always getting compliments on my hair. Today Mr. Florida told me I looked like an actress, Maggie Gyllenhaal, except prettier. I said, "Oh stop, it's just the coat!" I thought he was gay on the phone, and I was wearing a really cute Kelly green poly trench with clean classic lines and yellow buttons. I haven't had a haircut in four months and sometimes my hair really gets whacked out, but it still manages to look pretty foxy most of the time. That is because of my hairdresser. I feel that she realized the potential waiting under that hair curtain all these years and always makes me feel cool enough to live in my neighborhood. And maybe even go to other ones. Like the Meatpacking District. Now I just need some new clothes or maybe better taste. Anyway, I have been wanting to get a haircut, partly because it is time (4-5 months between cuts is just right) and partly because I have the money in the bank and I want to give it to her while I still have it. The problem is that she is so super hard to get in touch with. Her email is defunct and she never returns my calls (I have to leave highly funny and flattering, specially-crafted voicemails; sometimes I bring in a writer.) I once sent her a postcard. I think I may be on the verge of doing that again. It isn't that she's a big snob or some kind of pretentious jerk. She just sucks at returning calls and is busy and travels for work. I genuinely believe she likes it when we hang out (one hour every four-five months) but can't handle more. But I just want to get my freaking hair cut.

I tried and tried to find an apartment for Mr. Florida who does seem ready to sign, but I just don't have the inventory for him. I know what buildings he should be in but there isn't anything there. Our interaction went better than I thought and maybe I impressed him with the shitty apartment and winning smile I showed him. Doubt it.

I keep thinking I am getting cracked out by the Dayquil I took today, but no such luck. I am still waiting for the effects, any effects, to kick in. I think I'll be waiting a while.

A breakdown

This is near where I had my lease signing for 1 University. I could use one or three or four of those apartments right now and it goes without saying I could use a lease signing. It's the main entrance to Grand Central Station.

Here's my list of clients right now:

Mr. Florida with the French bulldog. Wants Chelsea or the West Village, not Central Village, ready to sign today. $2800-3300. Called me yesterday on a Chelsea highrise ad, but doesn't totally want a highrise. I'll take him to one I already told him about.

Pregnant townhousey Indian couple. They want a three bed, two or three bath, west, since he drive to New Jersey everyday for work. She needs to be near the E or the V train to get to LIC. They already have a two year old and are expecting in September. They can pay up to $6000. They didn't call me back yesterday.

Amex VP. She was the one I took to the Upper West Side last week. I have looked at some apartments on her behalf but they all sucked. We are supposed to meet on Wednesday at noon, which I can't do because I have a healing appointment, which I knew when I made the appointment with her. $3300, Chelsea one bedroom, below 23rd Street.

Ralph Lauren Window Designer. $1700 one bedroom. She rejected something I was going to show her on Sunday based on address. I am waiting for a Goodstein property to pop.

$4000 one bedroom guy never called me back as soon as I said I had his apartment. Oh well.

I never called back the people who called about an awesome $3350 penthouse on West 16th Street that has been gone for a month or so. I did see one place for them but it didn't have outdoor space and it was also a Kingman, known to take multiple applications, which intimidates me an kept me from participating. Lame on me.

Pregnant stereo people put money down on something in Friday but did have the courtesy to say so and call all the brokers with whom they had been working. Annoying but appreciated.

I may call "Dick and Wife" as it is listed on the folder I have for them. This was a guy who called me about a specific building in the Flatiron, wanting a one bedroom. When I tried to get in touch with him, things were fishy for a couple of weeks. I didn't get the feeling he was getting my messages. Anyway, one day I tried again and he answered, fessing up that he actually wasn't in a position to move right now, things being up in the air with work and all. OK. Anyway, I may call him to see if he is ready now. Seeing as I do have a one bedroom in that building that is within his price range.

I have the Rosenblum Reference, someone with whom I have been loosely communicating with for weeks. He is a very busy but nice doctor who answered the ad for my friend's parent's garden apartment months ago and missed out on it because he was too busy to go see it. Anyway he called me yesterday and we chatted so now I've got to find him something near the 2/3 train. Also $2800-3300.

Of course I have the other broker who wants me to co-broke the open listings in Chelsea. Dummy.

And the Italian American lawyer who just spent a year in London and wouldn't move to Little Italy because the neighborhood was "a little sketchy." His move date changed so I should give him a call.

I think there are others but I don't remember them right now. Except for $8000. Someone asked me what ever happened to her. I'll tell you what happened. My partner and I showed her that place on Fourth Avenue for $6500 that made her call her boyfriend. The following Monday morning, I met her and the boyfriend there for a second viewing. They chatted about it, did funny things like shutting themselves in the separate bedrooms and talking to see if the sound bothered them. I left them to talk about it/think about it. Meanwhile I dutifully faxed them the application and checked on the status with the listing broker. A couple of days and a couple of calls and emails went by and I got the uncomfortable break-up email from her, more or less telling me they weren't really looking anymore, that they couldn't see themselves compromising and the apartment and location and price would have to be perfect. I realized some time ago that there must be an apartment she is comparing all others to and at our second to last meeting, she told me about a gem of a place on lower Fifth Avenue that had two and a half bedrooms, views, character and that special something that was lacking in all the apartments we had seen together. She sold it a couple of years ago and is now kicking herself because it is perfect--but someone else's. It was the Aha! moment for me.

By the way, today I overslept and missed the morning meeting. I also missed moving my car for parking regulations. When I went out there to retrieve my parking ticket, I noticed the whole street was lined with cars and that there were no tickets on any of them, including mine. It seems that there was no street sweeping today and therefore no ticket. I guess the universe really is looking out for me!

Too hard out there for a pimp

By the way, this is the intercom at an apartment I saw a few weeks ago. I didn't know Farfisa made video intercom. Pretty cool, but I don't think it will impress customers. A little too indie pop for the average Manhattanite.

I got up early and went to work this morning. I wasn't totally happy with my outfit but I still looked sufficiently businessy in my "business grey." But I really don't feel so businessy today. Today I feel freelance. And I took the afternoon off, came back to Greenpoint and passed out for an hour and a half. Of course I got some more calls, one from another agent who may be willing to give me some of her clients (for a referral fee) because she doesn't have any listings in Chelsea. Ridiculous. I don't know what it is like to work at these other agencies that have no listings, but it must suck and I don't know how these people make any money. Idiots.

Anyway, I got a few calls, once I had come home and passed out. The street corner dude called and left another message. I am glad I missed the call, because I would have answered the phone thinking it was a client. Gross. Delete. I would rather hear from the Hamburger, but I think I'll give him another call when I have to go back out to the shop to get a note from the mechanic saying my car doesn't have a car alarm so I don't have to pay the ticket. Or if I make a deal, I'll take him out to a slice of pizza. I am such a weirdo. It is way too hard out there for a pimp.

At home today I have watched Oprah 1.5 times, a few home fixit shows on TLC and later I may enjoy some Medium. Amy and I have come up with some awesome alternate lyrics: "You know it's hard out there for a wimp, trying to steal the money for the rent, ordering buckets full of shrimp, you got a whole lotta bitches eatin' shrimp!" We also have songs about the laundry man, who loves me but is indifferent toward her. We want to fix him up with the landlady.

Plunge in and keep going

A wise woman once said this to me. It is one of my real estate mottos. Mottoes. No, definitely mottos.

This morning I got a call from someone new, someone pregnant, calling about a townhousey type apartment in the West Village. Guess what? I have the apartment at the advertised price. I told the woman on the phone that I'd call her once I got to the office. Well it took me a while. I first went to an open house on 19th Street and 10th Ave. Unimpressive and I'm not taking my client there. On the way across town, I wandered into a store having a moving sale. I quickly chose a crystal vase for the Young Doctor (I owed her a housewarming gift), had it gift wrapped. The owner told me she could exchange it at any Bloomingdale's for full retail value, $75 (I paid $40). Cool.

Just as I got to the office at 1 pm, a friend called me and I spent the next ninety-three minutes talking with her about lots of things, family issues, mutual friends, our businesses, hamburgers and healing. I finally got off the phone at 2:30 and managed to call the managing agent for the West Village townhousey apartment. She said the showing was from 12-3. Ok, I said, lemme see if they can show up. I call the new pregnant people. The husband is willing to come see the place immediately. Wow. I realize I have to take a cab over there, because there is no other way to get over there quickly. I get there, meet him and the lady showing the apartment. He walks around for a while, she tells him some stuff about the place, like that it is 1500 square feet, which I don't believe for a second. I keep my mouth shut. When he's all done looking, ready to go, I ask him what he thinks. He likes it but there are some issues. Ok, I say. Rent, fee, lease terms, I can help. Size, location, layout, we'll have to find someplace new. We part ways, I'll call tomorrow to see if the wife wants to see it. Would be nice, it's an open listing, which means I'd get 40% of the fee instead of the 25% I get for a co-broke.

Now it's three and I walk back across town to 1 university *see below* to drop off the crystal vase for the Young Doctor. I leave it with the doorman.

I decide not to get right on the train back to Brooklyn but to walk around for a while. After all, the weather is contemplative and warm, my afternoon is free, and most importantly, I am not wearing heels. One of the things I like best about my job is that is gives me occasion to look at New York City with purpose and meaning, in a new way. I walk east, toward Alphabet City, thinking about books I've read, movies I've seen. I go to a thrift store I've never seen and buy some $5 sunglasses that make me look cool. I wander back across 14th Street, hitting all the 99 cent stores, looking for old new stock. I found some cool Chinese silk clutch purses for 99 cents. Now it is time to come home. Because I am hungry.

A little later, I am feeling optimistic. About real estate, even though things are the same and all the money I made is spent. Even about the Hamburger. Even though he has never called me back, I know it is okay. I don't know why or how it got to be okay, but it just is. I guess all that healing is kind of working.

Here's what I come home to

This is a picture of Greenpoint. It is one of the best neighborhoods in Brooklyn. It is part of why I cannot understand this obsession people have with living in Manhattan. Clearly, Brooklyn in far superior. I drone on about this subject in my very first posting.

Wind and sails

It was really warm and windy yesterday. I had on a really cute outfit, all set to enjoy the warm sunny weather. I mapped out my day, made some phone calls, got some appointments.

Oh, but first, I had to call AAA again to deal with my car, since I tried to drive it somewhere on Thursday night and nothing. Dead. We took a car service instead. I did have to deal with it in the morning because it was on the Friday side of the street and I didn't want to get another ticket. I called, they came, everything was fine. It turns out the cable connecting the battery was loose. I guess the shop I used to go to out by the Hamburger that bought the other, real shop I used to go to isn't so reputable after all and I probably won't be going there anymore. I do know another shop and it is closer to my house. The proprietor used to be my landlord.

Car is done, I am on my way into the city to stop by the office before a noon appointment on the Upper West Side. This woman works for AMEX as some kind of Vice Prez, and has brought all her paperwork with her. Great. I am trying to keep this appointment on the DL since another colleague has a dying deal on this same apartment. Anyway, I get uptown, see the apartment and it kind of sucks. I don't know my client too well, but I can't see her going for it. Sure, they haven't completely cleaned it up and painted and done whatever renovations they're gonna do, but I see the crappy Formica kitchen, the parquet flooring, the ugly tiny bathroom and the voluminous closet space and I know this is a Caran apartment that isn't fooling anyone.

Ok. I go back downstairs to wait for her on the corner. Some dude comes up to me and uses the lame line, "Do I know you?" I flatly say, "No." He drones on and on about how he used to be in real estate for a little while, tried to work in film at the same time, now he just does film, blah blah, blah, blah. I give him my card, just to get rid of him, because I don't want him there when my client shows up. Not the smartest, I know. Who cares. It's flattering, but at the same time feels like something that used to happen to me a lot more, weirdos asking me out. Yuck.

I make a few phone calls. The VP shows up. We go see the apartment and she is wildly underwhelmed. She tells me why, I say okay, we leave, talking awkwardly all the way to 42nd Street when I get off the train. We have something set up for Wednesday at noon.

I am in the office for a bit, setting up my afternoon appointments, but I want to get back outside because I feel great and the weather is so warm and charged with energy. My office neighbor and I head out to see something in the prime West Village I had wanted for my pregnant clients. I am glad I did that, because the apartment sucked. Dark, awkward and gross bathrooms and kitchen. Sure it was worth the money, but eww. NEXT!

Oh, but on our way downtown, I was listening to a voicemail I had missed and it was from the street corner guy, mumbling something about how he had a cancellation with work or something that evening and did I want to get a drink? I was in the middle of saying, "Eww, it's that creepy guy, gross!" or something like that when we walk by Philip Seymour Hoffman, who was looking pretty schlumpy and, dare I say, like a creep. It was too perfect. I was laughing about that all day.

I tagged along to an appointment S had with a broker with whom I just did a deal. I had a couple of questions for him regarding another listing of his. He was very nice and glad to see me but the property I was asking about was gone. Oh well, to be expected. They graciously let me come upstairs and see the apartments, which were nice. I kept my mouth shut so as not to horn in on S's relationship with his client. The guy liked/didn't like the apartments. Jerk. For $1800 in the West Village, what do you want?

Next I went to preview something in West Chelsea. I called a friend while I was walking there to chat and also to see if he thought I should ask out the Hamburger myself. He said yes. I guess I had decided I have a crush on the Hamburger, which is nice even if it never goes anywhere at all. I get to my destination, bid my friend farewell and commence trying to get into the apartment by myself with no client. I call the super's number, no answer. So I go outside and the guy I remember showing us last time is out there smoking a cigarette. He says, "Yes?" I say, "Oh, I'm meeting my client later this afternoon and I just wanted to take a look first..." He lets me go up by myself. The apartment is fine, a little small, but with a crap view. Nothing anyone will walk into and say, with enthusiasm, "I'll take it!" So I take some pictures and go.

After West Chelsea, it is back to the village. My feet are starting to hate me. I get this other dude from the office to meet me at a loft apartment in the Central Village, also previewing for another client. I am glad I have been previewing lately because the stuff I have seen is shit. Anyway, on the way, I call the Hamburger and leave a stiff and unfunny message, which I hate doing; I don't like not being funny.

I get to the apartment, the managing agent is late. Annoying, since I have an appointment with a real client and a listing broker in a part of town that isn't far but is inconvenient to get to from where I am. But I really want to see this apartment. It's great, seems like just what my client asked me for. No pictures, though. Ok, so I rush out of there and get myself to the other appointment only four minutes late. I meet the client, it's the window designer for Ralph Lauren. As we're walking the walkup, she tells me she was just almost molested on the street. I tell her my street corner pickup/Philip Seymour Hoffman story and we agree that warm and windy brings out the freaks. She likes the apartment but isn't going to take it. I think something is coming up next week in the building I just rented to the Met Life girl. I think, as long as the apartment is ok, that will work for this chick too.

I head back to the office, not because I really have any work to do, but because I have to take off my shoes for a little while. I call the guy for the Central Village loft, but I don't expect to hear from him for some reason. Even though I have his apartment. All the optimism I had in the past few days is gone. None of the apartments I had picked out for people are working, for one reason or another. Evening plan possibilities are dwindling, for one reason or another, but I just don't have the energy to care anymore.

Now it's Saturday and the weather is supposed to be nice again, but today I am wearing jeans and sneakers. Can't handle the heels on a Saturday.

Networking

I went out tonight. I never do that. And I really felt kind of old or something. Not drinking goes hand in hand with not going out, and when you do, not feeling young and carefree. That sounds dumb and bitter, but I am still not drinking.

Anyway, I went to some bar tonight and I gave away two of my biz cards and had a super interesting conversation starting with hair and ending with my idea to teach free real estate/home buying classes to people like me. This girl had just bought a two family for a good price in a good neighborhood in Brooklyn (she could be any one of us) and did so with a cobbled together crew of family and friend. One had the down payment, one had the reno costs and the third looked good on paper. It was exactly what I want to learn and teach and foster. Cool, huh?

Right now

I have 1-3 apartments for almost all my clients. Unheard of. Now it is all about making all the moving parts come together. No small task in Manhattan real estate.

Tonight I may be showing a 500 sq.ft. (this is big for such a cheap apartment) 1BR ($1586) on East 30th Street to a girl who does window design for Ralph Lauren. She wants a 1 bed with a separate kitchen for $1700. Unbelievable. The only reason I am taking her seriously is that she said she worked with my company three years ago, she gave a list of almost impossible demands and the broker met them, so she was happy to pay the broker fee. Basically, she seemed well versed in the process of finding a home with a broker in Manhattan, didn't try to act like she was more knowledgeable than I am, has a reasonable understanding that she is asking for a below market rate apartment, and she is willing to pay the fee. I am expecting to close her by Saturday.

The pregnant lady with whom I was supposed to meet yesterday at 2pm stood me up, but I wasn't really prepared for our meeting anyway. Today I was looking at the new listings and I found something in the West Village that seems to meet her critera. The only thing I am worried about is that the apartment will be dark. Otherwise, the price is right, the location is right and I think I got her sufficiently whipped up into a frenzy that she wants to get in to see the apartment as soon as possible. I am hoping to take her boyfriend out tomorrow during the day. He's the one who "installs and maintains high end audio, video and security systems." I asked if he could demonstrate 40 times the rent on his own, since the landlord needs each applicant to qualify on his or her own and they do not accept California guarantors.

The client I got last night. I went to preview a couple of things for them today and only one was a possibility. The problem is that the landlord accepts multiple applications and acceptance is pending a face to face with the landlord. Another one I couldn't get in to see because the tenant said she was sick and didn't want to show the apartment. I'll try tomorrow. I took another agent with me to see a one bedroom in one of the Chelsea highrises. It sucked. It was totally overpriced, even for those kind of places. Lame carpet in the bedroom, no view, not an open kitchen or even a pass-through. Barf. I am not showing that apartment to anyone.

At noon I am going to the Upper West Side to show a Caran. Pre-war 1 bedroom, corner unit, laundry on the floor, 24-hour doorman. I prepped the girl to bring all of her paperwork with her in case she wants to proceed. I told her there is a deal on the table but that it is weak; her only chance of getting the apartment is to have a strong and complete application. All of this is true. It is good to tell the truth AND get the client all frenzied up.

I have some stuff to show the $3000 share girls. I am just ignoring the fact that they said they wanted 1.5 bathrooms. If it happens, it happens, but I not hunting for it.

Someone recently told me this: Every client deserves enough of your time to see at least one apartment. In the process of learning how to be a real estate agent, how to stop wasting your own time, it is quite possible to stop showing, stop trying, to qualify your customer to the point of deciding they aren't really intersted in moving and not want to show them anything. (*Yo, what's up with the grammar of that last sentence? Could someone help me reword that so it makes more sense?) Anyway, you can psyche yourself out of going out with clients. That little statement puts it all back into place, for me anyway. After all, these people wouldn't have called a broker if they didn't want to move, right?

Some random shit

I must be having some hormonal wacky tackery, cuz I've been crazy happy for no reason then the other day I was super bummed. Whatever. Probably grandma biz.. I can't stop listening to three George Harrison songs:
Blow Away, which has one of the most addictive choruses I have heard in a while
Apple Scruffs, written for the groupies that used to hang out on the steps of Apple Records
Dark Horse, just good sounding

Also, the Roches sound like spun sugar to me lately.

And I am still waiting for my pizza date with the dude with the hamburger pillow. Speaking of hamburgers, I think I have a thing for them. Yes the actual food, but also the comedic possibilities of referring to them, seeing them made from ceramic or marzipan or fabric. If I were a cartoon character or action figure, I might like to be a hamburger.

As for real estate, I got a new client last night, on an old ad that I don't think I can duplicate, so really I should take the ad down, but it makes such a good ad and brings in calls. The client seems great, except for the fact that she says she has seen a lot. Kind of knocks out a lot of options.

I am having a friend update my ads for the last time. Saves me from having to do it, which is great. I still haven't set up with the other friend doing that on a more regular basis, assistant type deal, but it is still a possibility for the (near) future.

Today could be great, remember I could make $5000 by noon. If not, that's cool too...I got a check yesterday that'll cover things for a bit.

Not going in

I did the snooze thing for a while then I must have shut off the alarm because the next thing I know it is 7:45. If I can come up with just two properties to show this woman I will be okay. She told me she is due at the end of May, her husband (partner, as people like to call people these days) "installs and maintains high end stereo, sound and security equipment." Those are my words. Sounds shady, right? Their guarantor (if they need one) is in California. That is not good. Lots of landlords only want to accept NY State guarantors. The reason is that if everything goes sour and litigation ensues, often conducting a protracted legal battle in another state can be very costly and require an attorney be retained in that state. Yikes.

One of the places I was thinking of showing them is a place where I believe each applicant needs to qualify on his or her own and guarantors can only be from the Tri-State area. I may show it anyway. The other place is easy peasy.

I better meditate my ass off before my appointment at 12. There is a bit of a feeling of doing my homework late on a Sunday night or cleaning frantically right before the housekeeper arrives (which my brother and I ALWAYS had to do.) I have always hated excuses, but I also hate not being ready.

A Grandma Update: A call from grandma's niece last night let me know she isn't doing well. The healing from her fall is going slow and she seems to be in more pain than she was a couple of weeks ago. Things are slipping off her plate, like getting medication refills and really advocating for herself in terms of getting doctor's appointments in a timely fashion. An angel sent from West Palm Beach is handling the situation. This niece (whom I have never met) is taking control of things in a way I completely respect and appreciate and helping grandma get an aide to come to her apartment a few times a week. It will and already gives me tremendous peace of mind to know my grandma is not nearly as alone as I thought she was and that she is going to have some help soon. And that it isn't me doing it.

I have some decent clients right now, I have a check coming in today, I feel alright, things are pretty good.

My own routines

I forget most of the time, that each day is my own. I hit my snooze alarm at least six times every morning before getting myself out of bed, usually before 7 am. On the weekends I'll sleep in until 8 or so, but usually I am up because I am hungry or thinking about something or waiting for an email. I make hot breakfast for me and my roommate, she makes the coffee. I shower, email and look at a broker's website with daily new listings to see if anything new has come on the market for clients I like or think are serious. I check for the $8000 client a lot. Some mornings I have to move my car to a spot where I won't get a ticket. They street sweep four times a week over here in Greenpoint. At some point I put on my businessy clothes and go out to catch the bus or the G train. I usually make it into work in about 20-35 minutes, not bad. Twice a week we have meetings in which we talk about available apartments, notable apartments, cool places we've seen, what to avoid, how to address a particularly excitable super or onsite agent.

I like to be at these meetings, not because I couldn't find the apartments myself, but because they make me feel grounded and involved. It is important to be current and stay that way. Otherwise I just don't feel like I know what I am talking about. Also it generates a good like of things to preview to write new ads.

Some days I know just what I am going to work on when I get to the office. Others are more fluid. Some days I feel like I can't get anything done. Some days I remember my time is my own and I can leave in the middle of the day. This week I have a friend in town and a couple of times I have ducked out of work to have meals with him and his friend. For some reason this always feels so forbidden and silly. It is just eating lunch. Mind tricks can be powerful.

I feel like I barely worked today. I went into the office at 9 am, made most of the meeting, copied the rest from someone else, then got busy calling back some clients, researching apartments. Around 11:30 I decided I should go out to Brooklyn to deal with my car, which was parked in front of a new friend's house. I had a horn problem.

***This is a tangent!***
Sunday I was with this same friend and his friend. I drove us all to their friend's house in Kensington, we hung out, I made my friend help me try to replace my busted car horn with the new part I have. As soon as most of the part was out. The horn starts going off without any control at all. The neighbors are looking through their windows, telling me to shut it off. I am laughing, feeling a little self conscious, but really I just think it is funny. Luckily the auto shop I go to is around the corner. I decide to leave the car there, deal with it the next day. We all go out, have a meal, I get dropped off at the train to go home. Not five minutes after I get home does my phone ring. I guess my car's horn has been going off since we left for our meal. Maybe hours. The neighbors are angry, the police have been called, AAA has been called, $20 has been borrowed, cabs have been called, my new friend is afraid to go outside for fear he will be beaten by the neighbor and arrested by the police. I wish he would just man up and go outside and disconnect the battery. But no. Anyway, I went back out there, drank a cup of tea, was yelled at by the tow truck driver, filed a complaint, borrowed $20 more and went home. And watched a little bit of the Academy Awards. academy awards. Kinda stupid, except for when those homies won for "You know it hard out here for a pimp!" That was cool.

Back to real estate. I decided in the middle of today that I was allowed to go out to Brooklyn to deal with getting the car to the shop. I forget sometimes, often, that I can schedule my time however I want and deal with my own stuff, that being successful in real estate is not about which hours I put in or even any number of hours. Much of it is random, just being in the right place at the right time. Of course I try to up my chances of this happening by showing up everyday or almost everyday. It's good I forget most of the time or I'd be playing hookey far too often. But it's fun to get drunk in the middle of the day sometimes, or at least hang out with someone who's doing that.

I can't decide if I should go to work before my healing appointment tomorrow. I know the answer is probably not, but I'd like to be at least a bit prepared for my two o'clock appointment with the pregnant lady. I thought I had two or three places to show her, but it may only be one and that doesn't seem good. Though I have done more with less before. Anyway, I'll have to decide later. For now I am tired. It's late and I have to get up before seven.

Somebody told me

A friend said I should put more information about what the clients are like, marital status, job, etc. While I am interested in hearing what people have to say, especially when it comes to a subject as captivating as myself, I have never been one to tailor my creative pursuits to anyone else's particular needs or interests, usually because I feel I lack the skill to bend elusive things like creativity according to my (or in this case, someone else's) vision.

The whole last paragraph was written so I could use the word "captivate," which I think is a foxy word.

That being said, I'll try to include more detail about my clients' lives since I think it does spice things up a bit.

So the update. Thursday was a tense day. Here's the setup. I had a lease signing scheduled for 3pm. In attendance will be (should be) the Prospective Tenant, or the Young Doctor as I have called her in previous posts, her father/the Guarantor/the (infirmed) Good Doctor, the Listing Broker/Mr. Old School, me, and the landlord, apparently religious (leaves early on Fridays) and quite busy with their 4000 properties. As required by the landlord, all principals must be at the lease signing, no exceptions. This means The Good Doctor's presence is required at the lease signing, even though he lives 2 1/2 hours outside of the city and just had triple bypass surgery five weeks ago. No exceptions. Now the Good Doctor is VERY excitable and feels this is outrageous, and I agree with him, but my hands are tied. He happens to mention he'll be in the city on Thursday for a doctor's appointment uptown and would consider coming to the lease signing if we can schedule it right after the appointment. Great! I set everything up for 3pm. In my gut I knew we should have done it before, since the predicted weather was 6-8" of snow, worse upstate.

At 8:30 in the morning I was waiting for the bus and my phone rings. "Good morning, Dr. F." He wants to reschedule the lease signing for 11:30. I tell him I will make all the relevant phone calls and do my best to make it happen. I call everyone and ask for 11:30. I get into the office at about 9:10, catch some of the morning meeting until my phone rings, it is Mr. Old School calling back after he has spoken with the landlords, trying to reschedule. The answer:NO. FUCK! Now the daughter calls me, she is HOPPING MAD! Smartly uses my own words against me, telling me she doesn't feel I am advocating enough for her, what am I doing, I need to make this happen. I say "Let me call you back." She says, "You have FIVE minutes." I go to the president and say, "I need your help." He calls the Old School broker and, in his typical eloquent fashion, conveys the "human element" at play in this situation. He gently asks, just this once, could an exception be made and could the leases leave the office, be FedExed, notarized and returned? I am on pins and needles, thinking my bill-paying deal will fall apart because of all this bullshit. Before the answer comes back, I call the girl back and explain her options. I decisively explain what we have asked for and that if yes, things are fine and easy. If no, her options are to show up at 3 pm with her father or reschedule for next week. I know the next week thing is NOT going to happen. I know we have to get it done today.

Some heavy breathing and release exercises get me through the next few minutes waiting for the call. It is hailing and dumping snow outside. The call comes in; just this once, they are going to let the leases leave the office! I call the Young Doctor with the good news and leave the office in a hurry. I go out with a colleague to see some apartments, just because I have to leave the office, but I feel much better. A bit later I find out she can move in a week early, so I call her with the good news. She is appropriately appreciative and now feels like I have really earned my money, which makes me feel good.

The lease signing goes off without a hitch, I send the leases off to dad and the day is done. Whew.

I'll tell you about Friday in another post.

A for Attitude

I truly willed myself into having a good day. Things started out in shambles today and I truly truly believe today it worked. Today I created the good that happened. Check it out.

I turned the good doctor (the young doctor's guarantor and father) around, I willed him into Manhattan from his home 180 miles outside the city. I completed his application with the shreds of remaining financial information he provided and decided it was enough and that it would work, even though it wasn't exactly what was asked for. I created space and time for a lease signing. Weather is the only thing that can stop us now, and I think that won't come until later in the afternoon. I knew I was getting good at my job because not only do I feel like I have a good attitude but I also had things to say to the father and to the daughter to quell their collective and individual anxiety about this invasive and violating process called renting an apartment in Manhattan.

I generated two apartments for $8000 to see, which she did this afternoon with my colleague and me. We almost pulled another assistant caper because we weren't sure that $8000 had gotten the message to show up. But she did and she did at the last moment. Things were awkward and tense for a moment because I had already introduced J to the listing broker as $8000's assistant, then $8000 and almost blows our cover but things are kept confusing and nebulous enough until we can get into the apartment and focus on that. Meanwhile, J steps into the hall (never to return) to shift the 3:45 to a 4:00, while $8000 looks around in the apartment. It is not without its problems, but all in all a good show. When we get outside, she and I start to talk and my phone rings; it's the good doctor from Kingston. I tell him the good news about the lease signing; he needs to rant and rave a bit about how unfair the process is, how it is really outrageous and how he has gone through less to buy a house. I agree and let him ride out his frustration--our appointment for Thursday is set. Meanwhile we've all three gotten into a cab and been whisked on our way to apartment number 2. She likes it. She likes it enough to CALL HER BOYFRIEND! Now that is a good sign. But still, I want to celebrate the little successes and allow them to remain isolated, since getting hopes up there in my business is a real deal killer.

I am feeling good, go back to the office, doing a little dancing and moving all day long, jiggling and jostling myself into a better and better mood. I didn't get my ads done today, but I did get an offer from a potential assistant and it all sounds promising. It's working, and so am I.

Going to work

I'm gonna try out put out some fires, confirm an appointment I have with someone to see an apartment I can't believe is still around and hopefully show $8000 some things I began working on last week (last month really.) The healer returned my call late last night while I was probably asleep saying it was fine to change out appointment, so I feel better about moving it.

I was looking forward to my appointment because (WATCH OUT: Hippie-speak alert!) I feel like I got some invasive energy in my space right now and it is butting up against other energy in there which I think might be my own. I have been noticing my own and other people's negativity and complaining energy. In fact, the other day I was talking to a friend on the phone and I was extremely unhappy with my situation, complaining up a storm, and I noticed that he seemed to be moving and shifting away from me, even just on the phone. I owned up to it in our conversation, but I still didn't know how to get out of it. Needless to say, our conversation was short. The point is, I was looking forward to working with the healer to get this shit out of my space again, or at least have a conversation with it. But I can do that on my own too.

As far as real estate goes, I have the doctor and her father to massage into place, I have the errant man with almost the same name as one of the members on the B-52's, and I have $8000. And I have my ads. Remember, I could make $5000 before noon!