What If Postcards Told the Whole Story?
/Somewhere in Las Vegas tonight, there is a stage with a trophy with my name on it, that I am not there to claim.
After 11 years in the business, I am being inducted into the RE/MAX Hall of Fame. It’s one of those achievement awards that RE/MAX agents work a lifetime to attain. I hadn’t been tracking my production closely, and I honestly thought I was a good two years away from achieving it. But the lovely people at RE/MAX International surprised me with the news last month.
And of course I’m sharing the news with you, because I’m excited about it. And because it’s what we agents are supposed to do.
But I’m also a little nervous about it. Here’s why:
If I have your mailing address, you probably received a postcard from me in January, with photos of the properties I sold in my really, really productive month of December 2015. Which I shared with you because (see above) I was excited about it. And it’s what we agents are supposed to do.
Shortly after the postcards hit your mailboxes, I ran into a friend who had received one. And he said “So I got that postcard that told me I shouldn’t use you to sell a house.”
I was a little surprised at that, and asked him why. He said “Because obviously you’re doing great and don’t need any more business.”
Whoa. Hold the phone.
Obviously, I hope nobody ever gets that idea from anything that I send out.
I send out pieces like that, just to make sure you’re keeping me in mind. And I share the good news because . . . well, why spend money on the bad news?
But I started thinking: “What if postcards told the whole story?”
In January, you would have received a lovely mailing with a photo of me buried under an enormous pile of snow, with the caption “I CLOSED ZERO PROPERTIES THIS MONTH!” Maybe with a smiley face, just for effect.
Another month I might send one out with a picture my buyers looking sadin front of a beautiful house that they made an offer on — along with 75 other buyers — and didn’t get.
And of course, the postcard I would most love to send — with a prominent picture of a fly-by-night lender with some clever caption about how he had sunk a deal I had worked on for months, and how you should spread this image far and wide and run in the opposite direction if you ever see him on the street.
But of course I would never send those postcards. Because we like to talk about happy things.
Like any business, this one has ups and downs. Actually, I’d say this business has a lot more ups and downs than the average business.
I love sharing the good stuff with you. But when I tell you that I had a good month, or received an award, don’t ever take that to mean that life is easy, or I’ve got “enough” business, or that I’m somehow not available for you or your friends. If that were the case, I wouldn’t bother reaching out to you at all.
I love this business. I love looking out for my clients’ best interest during this most important and stressful time. I love sharing the journey of finding and buying a home. I love being part of the next chapter when it’s time to sell. I love the challenge of making sure sellers get top dollar for their homes. I love building offers that help buyers win in multiple bid situations. I love seeing families settle in when the paperwork is signed and the moving vans have dropped their last loads.
I want to do more of that. A lot more.
When it comes to selecting the person you want to help you buy or sell a house, I can’t think of a worse criterion for selecting an agent than “who needs the business?”
The questions should look more like: “Who do I trust?” “Who is going to look out for my best interest?” “Who has the experience?” “Who is actually good at this?”
And, of course “Who would I actually enjoy spending a lot of time with over the next several months?”
I like to think that I am that person.
So thank you all for being my friends, and my clients. Thanks for entrusting this important process to me, and for referring your friends and families to me. You are the people who make my good news possible.
I couldn’t do it without you. And I wouldn’t want to.