When daughter and her betrothed could not ignore my nagging any longer, these 23 year olds (freshly graduated from UC Berkeley) set out to buy a house. Back then, the market was on fire here in California.
The kids looked, well, like kids. Blond and skinny, jeans and flip flops. I knew they had landed lucrative jobs with their architecture degrees, won design awards, and were brilliant (okay, I am the mom, I am allowed to add that last one).
But no one else did, and guess what? They could not get a real estate agent to give them the time of day.
Now, like many people, they decided to start their search for a house by going to open houses on Sundays. Maybe open houses are not a good place to connect with an agent, what do I know? During this era, cheap little bungalows in Berkeley brought forth droves of people afflicted with California real estate mania.
I know this, because I went with them one afternoon to look at houses. When I walked into the open houses, it never failed. Attention was lavished on ME, even when there were 20 other people in the house. (older, Suburban, driving BMW, wearing real shoes, not flip flops...stuck out like a sore thumb in younger, urban, Toyota-land).
Sometimes, as I stood waiting for the kids, people assumed I was the real estate agent (I swear there is some sort of aura around me...I wasn't even in the real estate business then).
But I had to confess, they were right. Not one agent paid any attention to this sale waiting to happen. Even when I explained: "they are the ones who are buying a house".
Were they too young? Did they appear to be tire kickers? Did everyone assume they had an agent already? I don't know.
But finally, they made a connection, all on their own, when someone who looked more like a professor, took an interest in the kids, their architecture, and their quest to buy a house. Within no time, he located a run down bungalow in Berkeley that had original details hidden under a very bad 1950's remodel. It was DIRT CHEAP, and far less than the kids had planned to pay.
They had not asked for a fixer. He somehow understood that restoring this house to its 1920's splendor would become their post-graduate project, and result in something spectacular, architecturally, and financially (which it did).
How did he know that? How did he connect all the dots, and add all the right ingredients to bake the perfect cake?
When I think of how he mastered the situation, of the impact he made on my child's life, the value far exceeds the commission he earned. To me, this is the very definition of what a real estate agent should do.
When times are good, we have the luxury of becoming cherry pickers. Be the agent willing to pick a couple of cherries that are still green. You'll be glad you did.
Written by Janet Guilbault, Mortgage Lending Expert Based Out of the San Francisco Bay Area
I'll sell a house to anyone with the income to pay for it. Flip flops or barefoot, I don't care! LOL