Indoor Camping: Fixing Up the Fixer-Upper

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Real Estate

Thinking was never in my plans. For most of my life, I went along just fine without either thinking or plans. My life, if driven by anything, was driven by what felt right at the time. If it sounded good, I took a job, I moved, I got married.

When my kids got old enough to start thinking about their life plans, I realized most people weren’t so random. I started to think once in a while before making major life decisions. I did a few things to correct my behavior: I stopped moving; I thought before I spoke (most of the time); I divorced my ex.

I didn’t think I had the option to think before taking jobs. Whatever job I happened to have wasn’t very good. Whatever employment I happened to be offered had to be better. I took it always, always without thinking.

Having crappy jobs not suited for me or my skills got me to thinking. All the jobs I’ve had were because I knew people who had job openings. I have all sorts of skills, none of which I’m really good or really bad at, and I can bullsh*t my way through almost anything. Whatever you need, I’ll tell you I can do it and I’ll give you good examples how. I may not know what I’m talking about, but I can make you believe I do. How hard can a job be if you’re interviewing me for it?

That’s how I’ve been stuck in dead-end jobs where I’m totally untrained and totally unsuited. I’m in a constant state of “What should I do with my life?” I don’t care what I do as long as it’s nothing to do with whatever I’m currently doing.

I’ve painted and managed my parents’ apartments and bought and sold houses, but I’ve never done real estate as a real job. I’ve had friends who’ve become realtors, so when one of my friends, Leni, decided to go to real estate school, I thought why not? My dad was a realtor when he wasn’t designing nuclear reactors. I’ve heard him talking about real estate my whole life. How hard could it be?

I took the classes with Leni and helped her study for the exam. I thought about taking the exam with her, but that would involve planning. I thought about planning to take the exam until Charlie’s older sister got cancer and we went to Florida to help his mom for a few months. We returned and I’d already stopped thinking about real estate. I had too much make-up work to do at my crappy yet unsuitable current job.

I never gave real estate as a career another thought. Why would I? Nobody I knew was taking the exam or had a real-estate oriented job opening. I’d have to start all over. Charlie started working days, we bought this time-sucking fixer-upper, and the General started living with us full-time. I’d really have to think and plan for a career in real estate.

I’d see Leni’s name on for sale signs and I’d tell her son, who works at Starbucks, to say hi for me. I stopped seeing her around town when her husband unexpectedly died. I meant to call but I never did.

I did see her recently at Blockbuster, in the foreign films section. Both of us ducked into this side aisle when a really loud, really fat guy stood in the new releases section and yelled out his opinions whenever you reached for something.

“It’s not as funny as you might think,” he yelled. “The crash scenes are unrealistic.” We both thought it was better to hide and wait for the fat guy to leave than to ignore or endure him.

Leni said she enjoyed real estate and even though she’d slowed down since her husband’s death, she was happy she chose this career. Not having a career, I started to regret my lack of commitment. She told me to call her up and we could talk about my potential career in real estate. I’m thinking about it.

What would my life be like if I followed through? Would I still be in real estate? Would I be good at it? I don’t think so. I think dealing with people during the biggest financial decision of their lives might not be my calling. One realtor I know showed one couple 63 houses and they still couldn’t decide on one they liked. I’d have slapped them.

Now realtors are everywhere. One of the good trainers at my gym, it turns out, is a realtor. I overhear her when she’s training people so I can get free advice. I overheard her talking about some clients. She sounded herself like she was ready to slap them. With her muscles, it’d really hurt.

My old dentist’s office manager quit and became a realtor. I missed her so much I found another dentist. You don’t see your realtor every six months whether you need to or not.

We bought the big-ass honkin’ truck from a guy married to a realtor. I see her picture everywhere. Every time I do, I feel a little more regretful. I drive by her house and I wish I didn’t quit. I could be happy and successful and have good hair like Rachel Reynolds if only I followed my plans, and got the name of her hairdresser.

I’ve wasted many quality vacation hours looking at realtor websites. I wasted the whole morning today looking at real estate schools. The price of tuition doubled since I dropped out. This means if I want to re-follow this plan, I’ll have to plan. I’d have to commit for this kind of money.

Charlie stopped by for lunch today and said, “I talked to a realtor this morning.”

He doesn’t like to talk about work but this didn’t sound like the usual serving and protecting.

“What’d she say?”

“Hello, this is Erin.”

“What else?” I had to ask him – I told you he doesn’t like to talk about work.

“She wanted to know if the potential buyers of a particular house could park in front of it when school was in session. I told her, ‘No. No one can park in front of their house if they live on that street. Not during school hours.’

“She said, ‘I’ve spent so much time with this one buyer. This is just one of many phone calls I’ve had to make to find out stupid information.’

“I told her I knew real estate was a lot of work. I told her you took the courses and instead of getting your license, we got a fixer. I told her you don’t have a lot of patience for picky people wasting time worrying about unimportant details.”

“’She’s smart,’ the real estate woman said. ‘All you do is sit on your ass and drive people around all day. You can tell how experienced a realtor is by the size of their seat. It’s the only profession I know where you can count the butt rings to determine how long they’ve been in the business. In real estate,’ she said, ‘the bigger the ass, the more the experience.’”

“This isn’t making my decision easier,” I told Charlie. “Now I’m going to have to weigh a realtor career against the potential weight of my ass.”

There’s something else to ask Leni about.

A little help? [] 6:16:30 PM