To Pee or Not to Pee and other Misunderstandings.

Part of the reason for this blog is to clear up some misconceptions between us: the evil and hated real estate broker; and you: the money hoarding hater. There a few things you should know about us:

If we seem grumpy while walking down the street--we are. And it's because we haven't peed. In about 7 hours. Much like cab drivers, we as real estate agents have a hard time finding a place to go to the bathroom. When you walk around the city all day you don't really have a "home base" like most people. Our home base tends to be the subway...which unfortunately are not equipped with facilities. You may think: well, why not pop in a store and go? That happens sometimes but for the most part store owners HATE when people come in just to use the bathroom. They think only homeless people do such things. Homeless people and Real Estate Brokers. And let's be honest, in the court of public opinion homeless people are viewed much more favorably. So, if in the past I have passed you on the street with my clipboard in hand and seemed "testy" it's probably because I am doing my lamaze breathing to keep from urinating on myself.

If I seem irritable on the phone-its for good reason. Don't get me wrong here. I actually love talking on the phone; especially to clients. It's part of the job, and a lead is always the potential to make money. But. When you call at 9:35pm on a Sunday night and when I answer you simply say "I am outside the apartment right now, I want to see it" sometimes, I get snippy. Contrary to popular belief, Real Estate Agents do not sleep upside down in dark caves waiting for the phone to ring. Just remember, we have lives too. And sometimes our boyfriends, girlfriends, and loved ones want to see us. But honestly and truly we love hearing from you and want to help..just give us a little notice:)

Holy Crap its hot out. You know on those mornings you are walking to the subway and you think to yourself "what a miserable day" ? Well in a Real Estate Brokers life, those are usually the days you are outside all day. During the summer I have honestly contemplated showing apartments in a bikini. This is in no way your fault, but sometimes we get cranky. During the winter things get interesting. Its so cold out that you wrap yourself up in hundreds of layers. I've been told I look like a corn dog; barely having use of my arms. That is all fine and dandy until you are showing 6 floor walk ups and by the time you get upstairs it feels like two hot plates have been inserted into your coat. So off the layers go. You look at the apartment for 30 seconds decide you could never live there, and off we go.Within seconds the sweat that was forming on your forehead had turned into an icicle. And thus the pattern continues.

Here are just a few quick things I hope help in the understanding of the plight of a NY Real Estate Broker. We are sometimes cranky, irritable, and irrational...but it can be for good reason.

Yes, I get it. I really do. Moving stinks. Especially in New York City. Don't get me wrong. We live in a wonderful city. A city where dreams come true. A city where you can get a falaffel with hot sauce at 3am. A city where people dream of making it; and making it big. As a city of millions of people, we share commonalities. We love Marathon Sunday. The food and wine festival. Shakespeare in the Park. The Farmer's Market in Union Square. Concerts in Central Park. In this same City, there are certain things we don't like. Cramming onto the 6 train at 8:50am where the man next to me is rubbing up against parts of me even I haven't seen. Waiting in line to cross the street in midtown. Tourists (only in times square).Seeing "Please Swipe Again" over and over. Chain restaurants. But, its what makes us New Yorkers. We grumble and Gripe together; like a perfectly pitched choir at Carnegie Hall,  but secretly know there is no place else in the world we could live. In this concrete Jungle we also have to deal with one inevitable truth. Sometimes. We have to move. And its horrible. Moving brings out a side of my personality I tend to tuck away in the dark recesses of my soul. In the weeks leading up to the "big day" every night you drag yourself home after a long and excruciating day of work to pack. Going through things you haven't thrown out since the 3rd grade. Finding dust bunnies the size of a $5 foot long from subway. It never ends. One box sealed, 700 more to go. And its always really hot. Or ridiculously cold. In my last move, I turned to my boyfriend and vowed I would birth our children in our new place. I was not moving again. The only thing possible worse then the actual move (and I won't even touch on trying to park your UHaul on a street that is 6 inches wide). Is finding an apartment. We all have "that story". You have one. The experience you had with a broker who promised you a $1000 2 bedroom in midtown and meets you reeking of booze sin and lies only to show you something a) completely out of your price range b) not the right size or c) in New Jersey. I get it. Its happened to me too. When my best friend and I decided to move from Hoboken, NJ to Manhattan we couldn't have been more excited. We decided to go look on a Saturday in July. We were so excited that we decided to meet Friday evening for a celebratory drink to cheers to our new fabulous life in the big city. Well, a celebratory drink turned into something around 7 martinis. I lost count. And, apparently my mind along the way. I woke up at 9am on Saturday with a professional mariachi band playing in my head. It was awful. And it was 607 degrees outside to boot. Perfect day for apartment hunting. Off we went to a small little real estate firm in midtown Manhattan. We walked in to a receptionist whose skirt was entirely too short and attitude was off the charts. She threw a clip board at us and told us to fill it out. Figuring this was the way things were done, we proceeded to fill out every piece of personal information imaginable. Income, job, social security number, parents maiden name, age/sex/location. In retrospect, that receptionist could be sipping a mai tai in Turks and Cacos with a credit card in my name for all I know. Like lambs to the slaughter, they had us. We walked blindly into an office and felt relief. There was a nice looking girl about our age with a big smile on her face. Phew. She was normal. Looking around the office before we got into Mindys office was a little scary. The "agents" looked like the zombies from the Thriller video. But Mindy, she was happy, pretty,and seemingly well knowledgeable. We told her what we were looking for..a nice two bedroom on the Upper East Side for around $2400. She typed for what seemed like 3 minutes straight looking intently at her screen (which we couldn't see). She pulled together 8-9 apartments she thought we would like. We were excited to hit the road. As we got up to go, Mindy didn't stand up. She explained that her "colleague" would be taking us around. One of the zombies. Out he walked. Disheveled and unbathed. What about all the boding we just did with Mindy? We had inside jokes, invited to our housewarming once she found "our dream home". Who was this guy? She handed him the paper and as we turned back to her, her head was buried in the computer again. We half muttered "bye Mindy" and we were shuffled out. We felt cheap and used and betrayed. Was it all just an act? She didn't really like my H & M ring and think our budget was "plenty"? Off we went with Rick. Who walked 3 steps ahead of us the entire time and didn't explain what we were seeing. Or any of the fees (but we couldn't shut him up once we picked a place and he wanted a $4700 broker fee). We saw 3 apartments. A far cry from the 8 or 9 promised. We walked up and down to find locked apartments, apartments already rented, apartments with dead bodies in the closet. Hungover, hot, and annoyed we took an apartment on 81st street where my closet was in the living room and we had a half stove. $200 over our budget with a huge broker fee, we just wanted to process over. We wanted away from Zombie man and Mindy with her fake smile and fake promises. So yes, I understand. Moving stinks. Especially in New York. But much like the great leaders in history, my experience inspired me to become a broker myself. To be different. Make moving easier, even fun. So that's my mission. To have my clients walk away saying "wow, that wasn't bad at all. And Steph..well..she was great". But, as with most journeys....there were some bumps..........

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