After a bit of a “dust in the wind” lifestyle of traveling around the US working on wind farms, I decided to come home to my “forever” house and my “until retirement” job, at the Armenia Mountain Wind project. As the years passed, I left the job and outgrew the house – funny how those plans all ended up like dust in the wind as well.
When I bought my first house I was relatively young and absolutely inexperienced. I had a REALLY bad experience with the first listing agent, the deal fell apart and the house disappeared from the market. A few months later, it came back on the market. Not knowing any better, I called up the new listing agent and arranged a showing – with a local contractor I knew to accompany me to do an “inspection”. My first indication that things might not be ideal is when the contractor said goodbye to the listing agent and said he’d see him on the next job… as apparently they had a business relationship I was previously unaware of.
Regardless, having grown up in construction (primarily electrical work), I figured the house seemed sturdy enough and the contractor’s blessing of the roof, foundation and other things I didn’t entirely trust myself on was good enough. I put in an offer. After the negotiations were finished, I was about where the top end of my “comfortable” price range ended. I was pre-approved for way more than I could see myself paying every month, and opted to chop that number in half, or a little less. Soon, I had my first house… using the listing agent as a dual agent.
As the years passed and I found what an awful idea it was not to have an actual inspection (I spent three years digging a crawlspace, jacking a house up, replacing the main beam and most of the joists before a full gut and remodel), it was time to be done with the house and buy a bigger one for my growing family in the correct school district (I was also unaware, as I was single without children, that the bus ride to the assigned school was over an hour each way, and we had to meet the bus a few miles down the road – they didn’t pick up at our house).
Luckily, this time around, I picked a buyers agent. An old friend who did real estate on the side. About the same time, a buddy of mine got into real estate with a splash – he bought a controlling interest of a real estate brokerage. He was looking for agents. Other than giving him my agent’s number I didn’t put much thought into it… until my journey into personal development brought me to the question: “How can I make more than $xx.xx per hour?” – and the realization that most of America’s millionaires were salespeople. I got back in touch with this newly minted mogul and discovered that he was willing to recruit brand new agents – and I signed up and started my courses… While finishing my finals for my first semester of electrical engineering… while I was working a full time job… and remodeling a house… and looking for/buying/moving into a new house.
My eventual entry into the world of real estate brought me to a bit of a wry, humbling chagrin: most of my life I tried to avoid “following the path” of those before me… but here I was, more or less, following the footsteps of my grandparents. Straight out of high school, I joined the United States Air Force – not the Army, like my paternal grandfather or the Navy, like my maternal grandfather… and as drawn as I was to the Marine Corps, I felt the Air Force would better prepare me for some of my eventual goals (as well as having the best chow halls); upon seeing my testing results, I was recommended for a career as an electrician. My father was an electrician. As much as I loved him and admired him, I wanted to forge my own path… I signed up as a crew chief, turning wrenches on aircraft. *shrug* it was just a back up plan anyways, I joined to be a Pararescueman. The elite of the elite. 18 year old me was unaware that you had to swim like a fish to become one of those crazy fellers, so turned wrenches I did – before I got out to play with wires, with my dad. From houses to businesses to factories, to wind farms and pipeline compressor stations – I walked a path that started in his footsteps, in a manner of speaking. My mother’s parents had a small real estate brokerage in Sylvania, PA when I was growing up… my entry into real estate was another droll step along the paths of my fore-bearers. My grandmother had already passed, long before I passed my licensing, but my grandfather was alive long enough to see me pass my tests and get my first listing. It brought me great joy to see how proud he was.
A sobering realization occured once I got into real estate: not only was it far harder than I had imagined – the money was much less than the “$xx.xx per hour” I had come to expect working highly dangerous, highly technical jobs. As a matter of fact, most local agents, if they were the sole breadwinners, would be living in poverty. But, I didn’t give up. Someday I may make enough from real estate to “retire” from my day job – which luckily is very flexible and accommodating of my real estate career. In the meantime, I will chase down my passion: helping others.
It brings me great joy to help people figure out what exactly they want and achieve it. Often it starts with an “I’ve never owned a house, but I’d like to” or a “This house is just too big anymore, it’s time to get a smaller one, a single story” or something similar… eventually it turns into an achieved goal and often a repeat customer – much like my “forever home”, many thing in life change far more than we expect. The most important thing in real estate is not the property; it’s the people. The relationships I’ve built with some truly interesting people are far more valuable than the commission checks I’ve cashed. I get to learn. I get to teach. I get to help. I get to experience far more than I would ever experience as a homeowner/technician/husband/father/insert the rest of my roles here… I get to experience life with friends new and old.