by Paul Slaybaugh | May 18, 2010 | Home Selling, Scottsdale Real Estate
By now, nearly every prospective seller in Scottsdale and the greater Phoenix area has been inundated with the well-worn advice that it is wise to make oneself scarce during showings. If HGTV and its fleet of “Real Estate experts” haven’t gotten to you yet, your relatives have. Or maybe you heard it from the co-worker who maintains a Real Estate license on the chance that one hapless acquaintance per year will allow him to practice on him or her. It is a truth so pervasive in the sphere of collective consciousness that it has reached even the outer-most fringes of the industry. As such, it seems pointless to belabor it further here. Suffice it to say that buyers don’t like sellers looking over their shoulders when they shop.
Shoot, I still generally decline a store clerk’s offer of assistance despite clearly having no idea which bottle of red to pair with the flank steak atop my cart’s haphazard grocery selection. Just a knee-jerk reaction to get the salesperson out of my space. I am perfectly capable of bungling the choice on my own, thank you very much.
Which leads to the thrust of today’s discussion of a well-traveled suburban myth: The (presumed) advantage of listing agent attendance at all property showings.
Some agents, either out of deference to demanding sellers or as a standard business practice, require they be present at all showings. They show up, open the door and then go in one of two directions. They either stand aside and let the buyer’s agent handle the actual showing of the home, or they commandeer the next thirty minutes; leading buyer and cooperating agent on a room by room tour, pointing out each frivolous nuance in painstaking detail. The buyer’s frozen smile masking (or revealing, if the blithe monologist would bother to notice the glazed over eyes) the fact that mental check-out occurred shortly after exiting the foyer.
You say there are TWO electrical outlet receptacles along this wall? Both GFCI protected? Get the *%&^ outta here!
There may be two schools of thought on listing agent presence at showings, but one is simply promoting the wrong curriculum. When the listing agent inserts himself into the process, he lacks the rapport to understand which items are important to the buyer and the ability to sell the home’s strengths from a position of trust. Further, much as if the seller were in attendance, a buyer is less comfortable exploring a stranger’s home in the company of a stand-in stranger. The idea is to allow a buyer the breathing room to open cabinets and linen closet doors. To stand in the family room in silence for a few minutes and decide which wall is best for the sectional. To visualize his artwork hanging above the bed in the master, or the family gathered around the breakfast table on a lazy Sunday morning. It doesn’t work if an interloping chatterbox squeezes the breathable air out of the house.
Thanks for the fifteen minute demonstration of the pool’s waterfall. I wasn’t sure if I wanted the hassle of a house with a pool … now I’m sure I don’t.
Even if the agent hangs out of sight, the unnecessary presence can trigger an internal stopwatch within a buyer. While he may not care about wasting his own agent’s time (as well he shouldn’t), the stranger factor tends to accelerate the showing. Humans are much more apt to “put out” those with whom they are familiar than the guy off the street. Whether borne of politeness, the discomfort of feeling watched or a hesitancy to reveal any indication of interest to a salesman, the end result is a showing that is less likely to live up to its full potential.
Is the other agent still in the living room? I wouldn’t mind calling my wife to have her come see the house, but don’t want to keep him from other appointments …
Showing quality aside, the other big knock on mandatory appointments with the listing agent is showing quantity. The anticipated control and added security over the showing comes at the steep price of deterrence. Not only do properties that are more difficult to access get thrown to the bottom of the stack by many agents (if an agent is paring 10 potential properties down to 4 to show a buyer, guess which ones get the axe first?), but listing agents are not always available to show the home when it is convenient to the buyer. The ease of access issues with such properties can prove insurmountable. Say a relocating buyer is in town for the day, but your agent is unreachable or booked through tomorrow. You just lost your shot at that buyer. With the number of properties from which to choose currently, the very last thing you want to do is erect needless hurdles.
As to the safety issue, the integrity of your home’s security is always an issue when you open the doors to the general public. That said, with the state of the art electronic lockboxes that are utilized these days (please tell me your agent is willing to pony up the $80 per box cost), a record is kept of all agents who access the premises with clients. Each agent has an individual keypad with a unique code. Every time the key is accessed, that code is stored and available to the listing agent. Further, agent keypads crash unless they are updated every 24 hours. Thus, the threat of the missing or stolen keypad is not the cause for panic that it once was. Put the valuables away for safe keeping, but one licensed professional per showing provides adequate protection without diminishing the quality of the showing, or precluding it outright.
In our experience, the most advantageous means of ensuring high-quality and high-quantity showings is to dial phasers back to “stun” and stay the heck out of the way. Market the property to the nines, accompany unrepresented buyers on tours of the home, but don’t micro-manage the sales force. Draping oneself over a potentially hot showing like a wet sales blanket may appease a needy seller, but it does not serve the interest of the actual goal: selling the house.
by Paul Slaybaugh | May 17, 2010 | Home Buying, Scottsdale Real Estate
There are things that you, as a home buyer, want to know about a prospective new neighborhood. Are the schools top shelf? Is there shopping nearby? Do the neighbors hold a semi-annual Scott Baio look-alike contest? For the most part, your agent can help you find the answers to your questions (though determining a victor in that last one seems dubious given it has been a couple of decades since Charles was last seen in charge). There are some matters which may be pertinent to your purchasing decision that I cannot field, however.
Fair housing doctrine is the result of a noble pursuit to ensure that all consumers enjoy shared basic rights and equal housing opportunity. The so-called protected classes against which housing discrimination is strictly prohibited include race, color, religion, gender, national origin, persons with disabilities and familial status (having children under 18 years of age).
(Note omissions such as job description and political affiliation from that grouping. Don’t like Realtors? Democrats? You don’t have to sell your house to one. Of course, green is the only color that should matter to a home seller, and rejecting any potential suitor for a reason other than unacceptable contract terms is not only foolish, but an invitation for trouble. Protected class or not, this is America. You can sue or be sued for virtually anything.)
Now that we have established who cannot be barred from housing opportunities for no other reason than certain personal attributes, let’s take it a step further. A frequent criticism of Realtors is that we won’t answer your direct questions when you are trying to get the skinny on an area. Your pointed questions are met with milquetoast answers such as, “There are all types of people in this community,” or “You should go to the police department website to research that on your own.”
It’s not because we don’t want to be helpful. We do. Believe me. Many times, we are constrained by overbearing legalities that make it difficult to effectively advise our clients. While laudable, fair housing doctrine in practice can be maddeningly frustrating, too. I cannot tell you how many Christian families live in the neighborhood. I can’t tell you if a subdivision is kid friendly. I can’t tell you if an area you have inquired about is a “bad part of town” or not. I can’t give you the wink and a nudge as I drone on about not being permitted to discuss such matters.
When you, as an unknowing consumer, stray into the no-fly zone, the exchanges often go something like this.
Q: “Are there a lot of minorities in this area?”
A: “There are people of all kinds in this neighborhood. I am not at liberty to discuss such things. Please get out of my car you intolerant ape.”
Q: “Are there more families or singles that live in this neighborhood?”
A: “There are people of all kinds in this neighborhood. I am not at liberty to discuss such things. If you are trolling for a date, I suggest the local pub … maybe Facebook.”
Q: “Is there a lot of crime here?”
A: “That depends on whether you consider vice a victimless crime … er, I mean, you would need to check the local PD’s website to review those statistics.”
Q: “Are there any agnostic Madagascan women who walk with a limp and have six adopted Inuit kids nearby?”
A: “Security!”
The thing to remember is that we agents deal in properties, not people. Ask me about the community amenities, the builders, the values. Shoot, you can ask me for the square root of the Pythagorean Theorem for that matter (the answer is “F,” by the way). Just don’t ask me to lay out the area demographics for you. There are resources available to you should you wish to perform your own investigations, but as a licensed agent, I cannot steer you to or from a particular area based on criteria that either closely treads or firmly stomps on a protected class.
Of course, it would be naive to assert that no agent has ever flaunted these guidelines to provide a client with the information sought. Were it me in the consumer’s shoes, I’d worry where else said agent would be willing to bend the ethical spoon, but I digress.
Are there times when I feel constrained from fully doing my job and properly advising my clients about both the positives and negatives in a community? Absolutely. As a safeguard that prevents agents from feeding into arcane prejudices and stereotypes, however, it is necessary to ensure that we don’t artificially impact values or deny opportunities. You can, and should, do all pertinent investigations regarding the property you aim to call home for the next who knows how many years. You are not restricted from obtaining the information you seek. Just know that your helpful agent will not be able to abet certain fact-finding missions.
You can ask me if the house is far enough away from the meth lab down the street to withstand the inevitable explosion (it’s not). Just don’t ask me to speculate whether the aspiring chemist within is here legally or not.
by Paul Slaybaugh | May 13, 2010 | Scottsdale Real Estate, This & That
A well-heeled businessman strode into the foyer of a nondescript office building. Tossing a nod over his shoulder at the exiting secretary who held the door for him, he failed to suppress the knowing grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. A quick appraisal of the surroundings threatened to dampen his buoyant mood, however. The threadbare plaid couch in the waiting area appeared to be a reluctant holdover from his grandparent’s den, circa 1981. Were it not for the well-thumbed magazines littered about the adjoining table, he would not have believed that clients were actually expected to plant their backsides into the hungry springs that surely laid in wait just beneath the sweat-stained fabric. The secretarial desk, vacant now that the evening receptionist had departed, seemed smallish somehow. The faux wood laminate counter tops didn’t mesh with his recollection of level four granite, either. The walls needed a coat of paint. The soothing antique white had faded to a sickly yellow.
How does someone run a business like this, he wondered.
A low, reverential whistle interrupted his silent consternation.
“Well, look at you,” the familiar voice gushed. “I’m still paying for those shoes, you know.”
He felt a twinge of remorse as he looked down at the Italian leather loafers. Whoever heard of tapping a line of credit for footwear? The moment quickly passed. The projection of success was a cornerstone principle to the manifestation of such.
“What price can you put on comfort,” he retorted.
“Sixteen hundred dollars and twenty eight cents.”
“Bah, it’s like walking on clouds. Besides, how can you possibly remember the exact amount?”
“Come on back,” his counterpart responded by way of an invitation.
Settling into the chair opposite the desk in his host’s office, he considered the barren wall to his right.
“Where are the awards?”
“Packed them away last year.”
“Why? I worked my butt off for those.”
“The game has changed, Junior. In case you haven’t looked around lately, people are hurting. Shoot, we’ve done our own share of hurting. Nobody cares about your sales records.”
For the first time, he really studied the face in front of him. The florescent lighting of the private office revealed deep creases that had remained hidden in the shadows of the dank reception area. The urgency in the red-rimmed, greenish-brown eyes was as palpable as the fatigue. There was an unmistakably hard edge to the countenance that seemed at odds with its hound dog expression. He was looking into a face that had seen too much combat.
“You didn’t invite me here to talk about my shoes.”
“You’ve always had a good head underneath that fifty dollar haircut. It’s time you started using it,” came the cryptic reply.
Sensing it was not his turn to speak, he let the silence expand before his counterpart continued.
“For starters, the cars, the vacations, the nights out … you’ve gotta knock all of that stuff off. It’s time you started hanging on to the dough that earned you all of those plaques,” he said, motioning to the empty wall.
“But-”
“No buts. Look around, Chief. This is what’s waiting for you if you don’t get it together.”
He clamped his mouth shut, deciding to let the enigma in faded blue jeans say his piece. The sooner he got out of here, the sooner he’d make it to the range. He didn’t have the slightest idea where the slice in his fairway driver had come from, but he needed to get it ironed out before the charity tournament on Saturday. Children’s Leukemia this time? Diabetes Awareness? He couldn’t remember.
“Moving on,” his appointed conscience interjected. “The real reason I asked you here today is to clear the air about the message you are promoting. Torpedo the kids’ college fund if you like, we’re resilient, but your clients deserve better from you.”
Kids, he thought as he folded his arms and sat back in the chair, bracing for the sanctimonious diatribe that was sure to follow. As in plural?
“Bear with me one second.”
His host pulled a worn, blue notebook out of one of the desk drawers.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for that,” he objected.
“Confiscated for your own good. Our own good. Let’s take a look at what you have been telling consumers, shall we?”
A brief pause accompanied the turning of pages.
“July 7th, 2004. You told Mr. Davis that if he didn’t buy now, he might soon be priced out of the market.”
“I was right! By December, prices in the neighborhood he was looking in had risen an additional ten percent –”
“And now it’s down forty percent. I know you thought you were looking out for his interests, but you only considered the short term prognosis.”
“That’s not possible! Property values never decline in Scottsdale! We’ve been historically undervalued, especially compared to California. We’ve remained stable when other markets have tanked!”
“February 2, 2005. You told Mr. & Mrs. Flemming that the forthcoming bubble was a media myth.”
“Maybe not a myth, but it’s definitely a media creation! If the talking heads wouldn’t go on the news scaring the beejeezus out of buyers every night-”
“Right, Katie Couric created no-qual financing and the subsequent investor-driven spike of artificial demand that led to a massive housing glut and a skittish buyer pool. God help us if Anderson Cooper ever goes on air to tell us about the Easter Bunny.”
“You’re telling me they’re right?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” his colleague responded with chagrin.
“Yeah, yeah, well hindsight being twenty twenty …”
“March 8, 2006. You opined to Mrs. Sanjeve that the market still had some legs.”
“Things have slowed down, sure, but prices are still inching up,” he responded meekly.
“You had to know things were getting ready to go sideways. Prices may have held steady before the coming plummet, but days on market were starting to pile up. Homes that received five offers before the sign even got planted in the front yard were now taking thirty to sixty days to sell. The writing was on the wall, you just couldn’t interpret the black and white truth through those rose-colored glasses of yours. Heck, you nearly got caught holding an investment property yourself.”
“I believe in our market. Scottsdale has always been the apex destination in Arizona. Our values don’t decline. Ever.”
“There’s that pre-bubble thinking again. Watch that reliance on past performance, Champ. Any market that relies on human buyers and sellers is subject to downs as well as up. No more fortune telling, you understand me? From now on, save the tea leaves for the missus’s iced chai lattes.”
“She doesn’t drink chai,” he answered.
“She will.”
“Okay.”
“August 18, 2007. Right before their portfolio took an irreparable beating with the jumbo loan market disintegration, you advised the Echols that they act now before interest rates rise.”
“Wait a minute, 2007? That one’s not on me!”
“Oh, you’re right. My apologies. Forgot which market I plucked you out of. Do me a favor and send in 2007-2008 on your way out, would you? He should be here by now. Looks a lot like you, just a little stressed out.”
He chuckled.
There was a knock at the door.
“That must be us now.”
Instead of the expected visitor, however, a young woman poked her head into the room.
“Okay, your hour’s up. I’m sorry, but I really need the room back now,” she said.
He looked at his younger self and gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders before nodding in the direction of the new arrival.
“Tracey here just got her license in the fall.”
A rueful shake of the head accompanied another pause. He glanced down at the neatly packed duffel of personal affects at his feet, wondering for the umpteenth time if the makeshift home office would hold it all. He raised his head and found the eyes of his disbelieving doppelganger.
“Last piece of advice. Spare yourself the martyr act and list some freaking REOs.”
________________________________________________
*PLEASE NOTE NO CAREERS WERE HARMED DURING THE WRITING OF THIS FICTION*
Just stretching my creative legs a bit, people 😉
by Paul Slaybaugh | May 13, 2010 | Home Buying, Scottsdale Real Estate
The closing table is no place for incompetence. The crescendo to a Real Estate transaction, the signing of loan documents and the final settlement statement is representative of a successful navigation of the escrow obstacle course. If it were a cinematic experience, an empowering musical score would soar over the montage of conquered struggles that it took to get to this point. While a few credits have to roll before the buyer can officially call the property home, namely lender funding of the loan and recordation of the deed, smiles and handshakes accompany the last executed signature in the two inch stack of paperwork, nonetheless. In years past, agents and consumers alike have been spoiled by the well-oiled machine that was the title and escrow field. Catastrophes arose, catastrophes abated and we lost our minds if a closing was delayed twenty four hours by unavoidable eventualities.
These days, I consider myself lucky if a closing isn’t delayed two weeks and my clients draw anyone other than Sparky, the one brain-celled signing agent.
With new disclosure regulations, a completely different settlement statement and a host of new concerns with the transfer of clear title due to the pervasiveness of foreclosure and short sale properties in our midst, an accomplished escrow officer has never been more vital to the process of a home sale. Unfortunately, many of the good ones were forced out of the industry when the market hit the skids in 2007. When sales finally began to rebound, the major title/escrow companies restocked their ghost offices. As the predominance of these properties were distressed, however, it was the REO (bank foreclosures) and short sale divisions that welcomed new staff. The resale divisions remain largely undermanned.
The REO division of a title company is an entirely different universe. Like that of a REALTOR who specializes in listing bank property, transactional volume is ludicrously high. Too many files on too few desks. You can imagine how this translates to the urgency with which your file gets treated. Another component that is not necessarily to the buyer’s benefit is the relationship between the bank and the title company they have procured. Supposedly a neutral third party whose purpose is to convey the property from the current owner to the buyer, the myth of its transactional Switzerland is a tale taller than the Alps. If the sheer dollars involved in a title company’s relationship with a bank (or the bank’s asset management affiliate) does not dictate outright obedience to the demands/whims of one party over the other, it sure does influence behavior. I have been nonplussed during the course of bank property transactions (the buyer MUST use the bank-selected title company if his/her offer is to be accepted) in which the title company is the one contacting me with seller demands, essentially performing the role of the listing agent by proxy.
It is expected that one will have to tolerate a third party that is subservient to its master in a bank property sale (and not overly concerned with getting the file closed in a timely fashion to boot), but problems are now creeping into “normal” resale transactions between living, breathing human buyers and sellers. For starters, with many resale divisions depleted of adequate staff, it is not an unlikely scenario to get stuck with an escrow officer who primarily handles REO accounts. Flip a coin between whether said officer is overworked or under-experienced, but too often lately a less than exemplary job is being done. Documents are not being requested/delivered on time, assistants are left to answer questions they are not ready to field, communication between the officer and the buyer’s lender is nonexistent … I’ve even encountered “signing agents” at closing who are neither the selected escrow officer, nor capable of explaining the documents upon which they want your signatures. One clown literally tossed the paperwork in my lap and told me to explain it all to my clients. Had I not been rendered utterly speechless, I would have ordered the hall monitor to escort the fresh lad to detention.
Mind you, these are not mom & pop style title companies, but reputable names that do a very high volume (perhaps too high?) of business.
The moral of the story? Unless you are purchasing a bank property, and thereby resigned to the amusement of escrow fate, you have a choice in the matter. As the buyer, you get first crack at naming the title company in your initial offer. Sellers (upon direction from their chosen representatives most often) may list their own preferred company amongst the terms that are countered, but don’t cave. Unless your agent can point to specific, positive dealings with said officer/company in the past, I urge you to stick to your guns. Going back four or five years, a title company was largely a disposable part of the negotiation. As long as you got your price, you let the other party get the perceived “win” of naming the company. The recent changes to the escrow landscape make such a laissez faire approach to the title work fraught with peril. Make this term non-negotiable. More often than not, the other party will buckle rather than lose a sale over what many still consider a minor point.
When selecting a company, your chosen agent is the best source of advice. We have favorites for a reason, and it is not monetary. Through trial and error, we find excellence in all of our affiliates. When we find a diligent service provider, we are loyal. In this day and age, though, a little prevent defense is still warranted. Ask your agent who underwrites the title policies of his recommended escrow company (title and escrow are not necessarily synonymous) before satisfying yourself as to its viability.
I happen to use Jenny Werner with First Arizona Title. Her policies are underwritten by the big boys at First American. She chaperones her files quite adeptly to prevent avoidable delays and miscues, and is very responsive to consumer questions/concerns. Whether you employ me to assist you in the purchase of a home or not, I highly recommend you write Jenny’s services into the agreement. Your movers and peace of mind will thank you for it. Eventually, the other party will as well.
________________________________
Jenny Werner, First Arizona Title
11333 N. Scottsdale Road
Suite 160
Scottsdale, AZ 85254
Phone: (480) 385-6500
Fax: (480) 385-6800
________________________________
by Paul Slaybaugh | May 12, 2010 | Scottsdale Real Estate, This & That
Ninety two contentious minutes into a 90 minute contest, the pitch is littered with casualties. Spent forwards, midfielders and fullbacks slogging wearily through stoppage time. Lungs seared from fruitless forays into the opposing half of the field, calves and hamstrings cramping from dehydration, members of both squads looking to the official for mercy.
Stop the game already, their eyes plead. In their weakened states, they are satisfied with a draw. Nil-nil. No glory, but no shame either. Just end this madness and take away the pain.
Not me. I play this game to win. Always. Fighting through elbows and spikes-up challenges all afternoon, I await my chance. That one bounce of the ball that will loose me. A coiled spring, all I need is one step and I’m gone. The jamoke trying to defend me does not have a prayer. Just let the ball squirt free along this right sideline. Just once.
And then it happens.
A poor touch by the center midfielder and the shining sphere of possibility bounces my way. Twenty yards in front of me with no defender in sight, the ball urges speed into my heavy legs. My shadow senses the moment, too. It’s a footrace.
Not feeling the handful of jersey being tugged from behind, ignoring the attempts to ensnare my feet, I rocket past my rival. He might as well be dipped in lead and cast in stone. Are my feet even touching the ground?
By the time I reach my quarry, I’ve built a full head of steam. The sweeper is running headlong towards me, but his is a fool’s errand. Lothar Matteus himself stands no chance at this very moment. A quick juke to the left followed by a step-over to the right, and his legs are agape. A deft touch of the ball through his wickets and I blow past his shoulder to recollect what is mine.
I see the referee out of the corner of my eye, surprised into action. He’s glancing at his watch, but he knows there will be resolution before putting lips to whistle. The linesman is galloping up his sideline in vain attempt to follow the action. Forget it, old boy. You will be a distant spectator to this penultimate play.
It’s just me and the keeper.
Having utterly stonewalled my mates thus far, my foe is formidable. Six foot four and full of muscles.
I choose my angle of attack and approach at 3/4 speed. All the while, competing voices in my head are shouting instructions:
“Deke it past him low and hard! ”
“Wait for him to go into his slide, then lift the ball over him!”
“Blow right past him and dribble the ball into the net!”
“Blast it into the upper 90!”
I ignore them all. I have been here before, and my body knows what to do. Years of practice guide me through the next three seconds. The crowd disappears. The field becomes the neighborhood park where I spent the weekends of my youth. I see the orange cones staggered over the next ten yards and navigate them flawlessly. Drawing my right leg back powerfully, I don’t even look at the hard-charging goalie.
BOOM.
All of my remaining energy and force are transferred into the ball. I know I’ve caught it well because I don’t feel a thing as I strike through it. Utterly drained and yielding to momentum, I fall forward with the shot. I hear the shrill hiss as the ball charts a path to destiny. Lifting my face from the ground to track its flight, I see it just nick the goalkeper’s outstretched fingertip. Enough to alter its path? Hard to say.
And so I watch. And I wait.
by Paul Slaybaugh | May 11, 2010 | Scottsdale Real Estate
It will come as no ground-shaking revelation that I want your business when you buy or sell a home in Scottsdale, Paradise Valley or the greater Phoenix area. It’s what I do, and I solicit that business, sometimes subtly, sometimes beat-you-over-the-head-with-my-resume overtly, within the confines of this blog on a daily basis. While there is little mystery in the primary services I offer to local consumers (“buyer’s agent,” “listing agent” and “headache sherpa” are all acceptable guesses), there is another aspect to this diligent Realtor’s usefulness that is sometimes overlooked: the quality referral.
Sure, consumers think to seek the names of local contractors and professionals from their respective agents, but what of the out of area service providers? Whether the client is relocating or seeking assistance for a friend or family member in another location, they often take to the internet or phone book to find assistance. Little do many know that the very best resource for an out of area referral is none other than their own local agent.
In years past, we agents were often very brand loyal in the placement of our referrals. Whether due to a conscious effort to keep things “in-house,” a matter of convenience, or a case of hoping the same corporate shingle would translate to a similar work ethic/methodology, we were limited by available resources. These days, however, the explosion of Real Estate driven websites, blogging platforms and social media has helped connect forward-thinking agents in unprecedented fashion. Through said arenas, we are able to far surpass the dark age reliance on blind selection from an incomplete list or static resume. In the vibrant, transparent Web 2.0 world, true professionalism and terrifying idiocy are both quick to reveal themselves. Through years of interaction with agents across these forums, I have cobbled together a relocation team by happenstance. No longer do I have to cross my fingers when making a referral to another agent, as I have trusted professionals in countless nooks and crannies throughout the country.
Going back to Cali and need an agent to help you discover Topanga Canyon? I’ve got you covered.
Topanga a little spendy for your budget? Perhaps this Ventura County Realtor can find something more your speed.
Is the Pacific Northwest calling your name (or tapping it out via Morse raindrop code, as it were)? You will be in good hands with the best Salem, Oregon Real Estate agent (and part-time Paul tormentor) that I know.
From the stockyards of Fort Worth, Texas to the West Bank of New Orleans, my network is comprised of not only outstanding agents, but truly exceptional people.
Do your folks back East want to join you here in Scottsdale? I don’t blame them. Make sure they speak to this Colts Neck, New Jersey Real Estate agent. Whatever he tells them about me is a lie.
And your cousin needs an agent in Pennsylvania? Tell this West Chester, PA Realtor that Dimples says hello.
Tired of the rat race of the lower 48 and eager to get your Jack London on? Give my best to the Spouses Selling Houses in Fairbanks, Alaska when they find you the ideal wilderness retreat.
The online Real Estate community continues to prove a boon for consumers and agents alike. While information is readily available for most any need, information alone cannot supplant the first-hand experience gained through established relationships. Take advantage of the unexpected connections your chosen representative has forged during the growth of his/her online presence. If I don’t personally know an agent in a particular market, you can rest assured that a member of my relocation network will. Six degrees of Real Estate separation? Hardly. At most, I’ll require two.
Oh, and I also know to whom I wouldn’t send a client for all the consonants in Poland. Consult your Realtor if for no other purpose than to ensure that no Gorgons make an appearance on the short list of candidates.
My reputation is on the line when I trust another agent with my clients’ business. It is a responsibility I take seriously. No matter where your Real Estate need arises, contact me before going it alone. Chances are I am exactly one phone call away from ensuring that you or your loved one enjoy the Real Estate experience you deserve. It’s the next best thing to packing up your agent and taking him with you.
Of course, if you are moving to Bora Bora, I’m willing to commute.
