A Little Courtesy Won't Kill You(r Business)

The little old lady took "forever" to cross the street. It was enough to drive the BMW guy nuts. Just as she was lollying up to the curb, he tooted the horn, giving the old soul the shake of her life. She dropped her grocery sack, and her oranges dribbled onto the same path she upon which she had so recently labored.

Of course, by this time the BMW was gone. One wonders about such moments. Perhaps some Quixote could have galloped to her rescue, or or perhaps took off to joust with the vehicle. But I, rather, wonder about a lost opportunity.

Brokers do tend to be courteous on the road. Maybe it is just an extention of the business, but I rather think it comes with the territory -- literally. RE folks spend their days criss-crossing the same town, seeing the same pedestrians, the same motor habits. They know the streets, but above all they know the old lady who has just been scared from here to "who laid the rails". To the BMW guy, she is a visual of waste; to a broker, a pause to allow her to do her transverse may well be that starting point of a new listing.

The House on the Hill

And now a chance for me to show you the House on the Hill. A 6 room charmer with a semi finished basement in Arlington MA, this is one of three houses on the street built by a father for his children in the late 1920's. The house has been updated with modern amenities that keep the elegant character of a by-gone day. The Gardens grow flowers and edible berries, and yes, it is on the top of a hill. Listed at $399,000. For more information,and more pictures you may contact the listing broker, John Montanaro 24 Trapelo Road, Belmont MA 02478 (617.484.2494). This home is a great Starter or Condo alternative, or a splendid "downsizer".

10,000 Steps

Our bodies are essentially the same sacks of matter as the bodies of the folks living in these parts some 10,000 years ago. Now I know someone is going to say we are better than the primordal coot rubbing sticks together for a fire as the better half sits in the mud hut, but really when you think about it, are not we that way now? I mean give it some thought and you will note that our homes are brick, stone, cement, stucco -- whatever: when you ponder it, all that stuff is essentially glorified mud. And as for the fire, well, my neighbor took a good half hour getting the briquettes sizzling so he could grill up the ol' brontoburgers this week end just done.

Where we do DO differ is in our methods of locomotion. 10,000 years ago our humanoid ancestor was more like the traveling salesman -- except he had to travel, find the pig, then kill it before he could bring home the bacon for pre-history's answer to the BLT.

Today there is the Stop and Shop, or the Shaw's or any other emporium you may name. And we don't chase and kill the Impala -- we drive in it.

We no longer are taking our 10,000 steps a day. We are Virtual touring, Virtual office"ing", Virtual everything. Except our food is not Virtual. And we are getting fat. We eat too much.

Think it over and you will see how, in even the last 20 years, we have lost our steps: The media remote everytime we change a channel -- 15 steps lost; the cell in our pocket -- 30 steps lost everytime we do not get up to answer the call; the drive through window -- 100 steps; the Hallmark email greeting to Grandma instead of the letter mailed -- 250 steps to and from the Post Box.

Every 25 steps a person takes will burn 1 Calorie. The above examples measure up to about 16 calories of fat stuck on the ribs. Those 10,000 steps we do not take represent about 400 calories of surplus lobbering down there; turning that belly button from an "outy" into an "inny".

What does this have to do with Real Estate? Well, how about scrapping that Virtual tour and taking a real one? Pick your town and walk the streets, hear the birds, feel the pavement under your feet and see if a tax assessment may be in the offing (no V-tour will show that). Then, if you are in my area, call me and I'll walk over and meet you at the corner of Elm and Godin with a lock box key to anything you want to see.

Marching Orders

A friend of mine reports that this morning, Memorial Day, 2007, he was paying respects at Mount Auburn Cemetery when out of a cluster of folks some ten feet away he heard, "...wonder how much those houses would be worth if this place wasn't here. I mean, who wants to be next to a bone yard?"

At first my friend found the comment in poor taste but then he realized that we all try to laugh at our fears. Perhaps the ultimate and final piece of Real Estate scares us so far into our wit's end, that we say the implausable. He watched as the cluster formed into a family cohort and marched off. He noticed the sad perplexed eyes of everyone in the group, the confusion of this place and this time. My friend did not go to read the headstone. He left that family's history to itself.

No real estate on this day for me, for today does not belong to me. The threatening skies may damper many cook-outs here in New England, and that is all right, for these hours belong not to the BAR-B-Q table either. This day belongs to others and I will give them my thoughts today. Tomorrow I will return to what I love to do, knowing that I can do what I love because of what THEY did for me.

Comes with Tenants

A nice two family. Two beds on the first floor; three upstairs. Third floor is semi-finished; lots of potential.

The owner has a disclosure: "The house has ghosts. They've been here since the 60's," she says, "Is this a problem?"

"Only if the unit is rent controlled," I tell her.

She proffers me details. Something about an ancient North American burial ground being disturbed when the house was built in 1960. How does she know this? She reports that she has been reincarnated. In a previous life, she was Pocahontas. Never mind that Pocahontas's real name was Matoaka (Pocahontas was a nickname), and that Pocahontas never got to within 300 miles of Watertown, Massachusetts. How come everyone who has been reincarnated was someone famous in a previous life? I mean, I have never heard of someone saying, "I was a real estate broker during the Black Death of 1348."

N'er you mind, readers. Turns out, the ghosts are mild mannered, quiet and courteous...none of that haunting stuff. Maybe a little "Everly Brothers" music from time to time but that is o.k. More like Casper kind of ghosts -- they've never bounced a check, I would guess.

But as the owner disclosed the information, so too do I report this to prospective buyers, and guess what?...folks think it is cool -- true or not -- the woman is getting offers. Even better, the family across the street has a teenager who prefers to dress in that dismal black Goth style. She looks like a VAMPIRE to me. Maybe I'll have her come over when I run the next Open House.

The Very Busy Broker

So my cell goes off and I see that the ringy-dingy is wrought from the hands of the "Very Busy Broker" (I know, that is fancy way of saying my caller ID works just fine). I'm showing a property in Arlington, but the call from the Very Busy Broker comes at a good time. My buyers need a few moments to their thoughts. As they ruminate over dollars and decorations, I excuse myself to take the call.

"Hello," says the Very Busy Broker, "I am very busy today, but I have 10 minutes right now and I would love to run through your listing at...," and she prattles off a property about 20 minutes away.

"But," I reply, "I am with some folks right now. I could touch base with you in 20 minutes..."

"But," she interjects, "I will be busy in 20 minutes."

Mind you, the Very Busy Broker has not closed house in 6 months. Buyers and sellers may wish to remind themselves that being busy does not mean being productive. My kitten stays busy all day chasing her tail, but that is not "closing any houses". Holding one's schedule up as though it is as immutable and all powerful like some biblical tablet brought down the mountain side will not bring buyers to the seller's table. Cooperation and a yielding to the needs of others brings everyone to a happy conclusion.

By the way, my buyers made an offer. The Very Busy Broker, however, missed her appointment. She got pulled over by an undercover "badge" for running a stop sign in Waltham.