by Paul Slaybaugh | Nov 12, 2010 | This & That
As I prepare to place a new business card order for the first time in forever, certain aspects of its predecessor can stand some revision. After years of template neglect, for instance, I’m humiliated to admit that my email still reflects the AOL address I acquired in college. While not amongst the technology snobs (you know who you are) that mock those still utilizing the America Online paradigm, I made the switch to a branded gmail account several years ago. I’d say I never looked back, but that would be a gross distortion of the truth as I have to log in sporadically to ensure I haven’t missed any correspondence from a holder of one of the 3″ x 2.5″ instruments of disinformation I continue to dispense with impunity. Or for confirmation of my Nigerian lotto winnings (funny, I don’t recall purchasing a ticket …). While ironing out such inconsistencies, it’s probably not a bad idea to include passing reference to the website to which I’ve devoted THE LAST TWO YEARS OF MY FREAKING LIFE either.
So I can be somewhat resistant to change, sue me. One person’s hoarding is another person’s preparedness. Roll your eyes if you must, but don’t come looking to borrow my red parachute pants when breakdancing comes back.
Amongst the myriad changes that Business Card 3.0 will entail, I figure it’s time to roll out a new tagline. You know, like Hasta la vista, buyer, or I’ll be back … with a standard AAR purchase contract. Just updated to have a relevant, modern edge. Given the changes in the industry over the past few years, I need a blurb that tells people I am hip to the new jive. Let’s try a few out.
Transparency, it’s all the rage in modern internet marketing. With that in mind, we could always cut straight to the quick with, You need a house. I sell houses. Boom, done.
Post-Bubble Apocalyptic: Leg stuck in a negative-equity bear trap? I have a saw.
Partisan: Freaking Obama. (alternate version: Freaking Boehner)
Short Sale Negotiation: Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
The Foreclosure Specialist: Predators, Incorporated. You need’em, we bleed’em.
The Roger Waters BPO: Hello, is there anybody in there?
The Lawrence Yun: It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia
The John Merrick: I am not an animal, I’m a licensed Realtor!
The Full Monty: I’m broke. Buy something!
The REHarmony.Com: Deep Levels of Compatibility with Your Money
The Ike Turner: Slapping the taste out of value’s mouth since 1999!
The British Petroleum: Your guide to housing values that have fallen by 2%. Okay maybe 5%. 15% tops. Alright, 60%, but it’s not like you can’t go commune with a cactus in the Gobi, you bunch of moisture-starved jawas.
The Chilean Miner: Trapped in an underground mortgage since 2006, and I all got was this lousy t-shirt.
The Baby Jessica: Posers.
The Max Von Sydow: Your REO Hellhole Exorcist
The B of A: Your One Man Foreclosure Moratorium
The FED: Going Out Of Business Sale, All Rates Must Go!
The Realist: Paul’s House of Puppeteering, Magic and Real Estate
The Obscurist: When your donkey brays in fiscal agony, don’t let it bleed out on the berber carpet
The Serial Market Killer: Have you checked the Zestimate? (alternate: It puts the charge-off on its credit)
On second thought, maybe I should just let the marketing talent at HA Media save me from myself.
by Paul Slaybaugh | Nov 11, 2010 | Scottsdale Neighborhoods, Unique Architecture Series
Continuing the Unique Architecture in Scottsdale series, this edition focuses on the mid-century modern designs of famed local architect Ralph Haver. If you enjoyed the style of the Frank Lloyd Wright inspired homes of Mountain View East in McCormick Ranch, but are operating with a lesser budget, the South Scottsdale subdivision of Town & Country Scottsdale might be for you.
A small neighborhood of 62 homes, Town & Country Scottsdale is coveted as much for its downtown Scottsdale location as it is for its classic lines. Featuring the clerestory windows and sharp angles that make enthusiasts of contemporary design swoon, Haver homes are always in high demand. There are other Haver subdivisions scattered throughout Phoenix, but Town & Country Scottsdale is the only Haver neighborhood that has been designated “Historic.” Besides, it’s as Old Town Scottsdale as it gets.
These homes range in size from just under 1400 square feet to nearly 2400 square feet, and were constructed between 1952 and 1960.All properties are single-level and feature block construction. 35 have private pools.Some remain virtually untouched by time while others have been renovated from top to bottom.As such, the prices can fluctuate wildly between the upper $200,00s and the low $400,000s (as of the time of this posting).
For those who want their unique architecture on a budget, it is tough to beat this charming neighborhood. While this older area of Scottsdale has less flash than the new developments further north, it makes up for it in character. With the direction the cost of gas is heading, it’s hard to argue with the central location which allows residents to walk or bike to all of the downtown attractions (restaurants, nightspots, art galleries, etc).
South Scottsdale is typically thought of as entry-level housing to our community, but that doesn’t mean it has to entail a small, boring shoebox of a home. Town & Country proves that. With a resurgence of appreciation for this mid-century modern design, the future is bright for this neighborhood.
View homes for sale in Town and Country Scottsdale
Contact us to find the Scottsdale home that is unique as you are.
by Paul Slaybaugh | Nov 9, 2010 | This & That
“I’m not going to GIVE my house away!”
Blaine leaned back in his seat, laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes. This appointment was over. It was over before it started, in fact. A humorless smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Something funny,” the would-be seller demanded.
“No, Mr. Davis, nothing funny. It’s just been awhile since I’ve heard that one,” Blaine replied.
Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find his red-faced counterpart had gone an even angrier shade of crimson. The lone stop remaining in the color palette of denial was purple. He’d only seen purple once, and that poor bugger had stroked out right in front of him while discussing the merits of a leaky faucet in an inspection report. One more comparable sale placed upon the glass top of the breakfast table between them and he’d be calling Mr. Davis an ambulance.
“Goddamn Realtors. I was dealing with guys like you before you were born. You just want to slap the lowest price you can on a house so it sells fast,” the now twitching homeowner spat.
“I’m just showing you the data, Mr. Davis. Do you want to see the rest of it,” Blaine asked.
“Waste of time, I can see where you’re going. You want me to list my house at the same price that all of those bank and short sale properties sold for, but my home IS NOT DISTRESSED, you nitwit,” Mr. Davis railed.
“It’s awfully hard to propose an opinion of value without first presenting the background data, Mr. Davis,” Blaine countered. “I put two days into the analysis, but if you want me to cut straight to the chase, I will.”
“About time,” the seller scolded. Even his hair looked pissed.
“Five hundred thousand.”
“FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND?! I paid five fifty for it!”
“Yes, you did. Two years ago. In a declining market,” Blaine finished.
“But, but …,” Mr. Davis sputtered, “but then I have to pay commissions and closing costs on top of that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Blaine looked at his watch and fiddled with his briefcase. He knew exactly what was coming.
“Well, I’m not paying you to sell my house at a loss! Your commission will be whatever we get over five hundred,” Mr. Davis decreed.
“You don’t understand, Mr. Davis. Five hundred thousand is my recommended list price. I anticipate you will actually sell closer to four seventy five,” Blaine answered.
That did it. Mr. Davis turned purple.
“FOUR SEVEN- you want me to sell seventy five k below what I paid, and to pay you for the f&%$ing privilege,” Mr. Davis bellowed.
The sudden rise in octave caused a stirring behind one of the barnyard-themed curtains in the adjoining bay window. A black form exploded past Mr. Davis’s shoulder, leaving a tornado of paperwork in its wake as it shot across the table and out of the room.
“What the hell …,” Blaine mustered, absently pawing his face for blood.
“I guess Mordor doesn’t like your price, either,” Mr. Davis opined, cracking his first smile as he gestured in the direction the previously unseen cat had fled. His face receded to an animated pink, and the whites of his eyes returned, liberating the inquisitive green irises that had first greeted Blaine at the door. A deep sigh punctuated the sudden shift in disposition, and resignation washed across his creased features.
“List at five and sell for four seventy five, you say,” Mr. Davis asked.
“Yes, sir. That’s the best we can possibly hope for.”
“I suppose you have something for me to sign?”
“I do,” Blaine confirmed and withdrew the listing forms from his briefcase. He stooped to gather up his strewn paperwork while the seller signed the agreement, but was stifled by a light palm across his chest.
“It’s my mess, son. I’ll clean it up.”
———— <BEEP> <BEEP> <BEEP> <BEEP> <BEEP> <BEEP> ———–
Blaine blindly groped the nightstand for the shrieking alarm. Finding it, he pressed random buttons until the dark room returned to silence. Once fully immersed in the wakeful world, dread began forming in the pit of his stomach. Yet another day of unlistable listing appointments. A quick shower and quicker breakfast, and he was out the door, for once hoping to cross paths with a few black cats.
by Paul Slaybaugh | Nov 6, 2010 | Scottsdale Real Estate
… but too long to label someone as such within 30 seconds of making their acquaintance.
A common theme across the Real Estate net is a gleeful willingness to drop a potential client like they’re hot if deep levels of compatibility with the affronted agent do not reveal themselves within five seconds of introduction. Talk down to me in our initial correspondence? Adios, muchacho! Dare to erect contact limitations or dictate a preferred method of communication? Bon voyage, bubba! Unilaterally impose any restrictions whatsoever upon our future relationship? Sayonara, sucka!
For a line of work that requires a teflon-coated epidermis, we Realtors can be a squishy bunch. In what other field would a business person refrain from taking on bill-paying work because the tone of an email seems mildly strident? A message from a complete stranger who is taking a leap of faith by merely initiating first contact via a spam-inviting contact form, mind you. No wonder so many in our ranks are crying the blues about the current state of the economy, as we appear slow to receive the memo that most no longer have the luxury of turning business away simply because a client lead has an annoying voice, a face reminiscent of the junior high bully, responds to painstakingly crafted emails in terse staccato bursts, or … heaven forbid, is just plain mean.
The horror … the horror …
There are, and there always will be, people I refuse to put in my car – pedophiles, overt racists/sexists/anything ‘ists. I will not tolerate personal abuse. Or Justin Bieber fans. Those rare sociopathic encounters notwithstanding, prematurely casting aside difficult personalities because I’d rather my job be stressless than profitable is not a winning formula for a career I’d like to see advance through another decade.
Business is hard if you are actually doing business. It is only easy if you are broke.
So give me your tired, your wary, your befuddled masses with whom you refuse to work because they have the audacity to treat you like the business you are, and not their best friend. I’ll sell them a house and go home to delouse.
The next five years in this business ain’t for sissies. If you think you can survive them by ignoring the tough customers, be grateful there are always job openings in La La Land.
by Paul Slaybaugh | Nov 4, 2010 | Home Selling
Open houses were how I made my initial bones in the Real Estate business. One of the tried and true methods for encountering the home buying public in its natural environment, it proved to be the old school prospecting technique that was the best fit for my sensibilities as a rookie agent. Why sit in a hermetically sealed cubicle, cold calling non-receptive “leads,” when those with an interest in a product type, if not the actual product I was hawking, would willingly walk through the front door and engage me in non-abusive conversation? Actual face time with actual consumers, you can’t beat it.
Lacking a single stalwart in my empty stable of listings at that nascent stage of my career, it wasn’t unusual for me to sit open the listings of colleagues. One in particular still stands out. A gorgeous semi-custom Spanish style home in McCormick Ranch, I couldn’t wait to throw my directional signs all over the neighborhood and wait for the inevitable human deluge. A planned community that is one of the few pockets that produces enough traffic to make the exercise worthwhile, chances were good that I would pick up a few decent buyer leads, if not sell the property on the spot.
The day before the scheduled open house, I met the owner at the property to introduce myself and assure him I was not a kleptomaniacal serial killer. Satisfied I wasn’t there to steal the toaster, he proceeded to give me the tour. I’d already previewed the home prior to selecting it as a viable open house candidate, but I was happy to oblige the owner’s turn as proud tour guide.
Until we got to the fun bubble.
A property that featured newer construction and more modern architecture than neighboring subdivisions, granite countertops, porcelain tile flooring and additional hot button features too numerous to count, and the poor, misguided soul had it in his mind that demonstrating the “fun bubble” feature in the swimming pool would sway potential buyers to slap their cash down on the barrel. Now, I like fun, and I like bubbles, but frankly, this bubble was apathetic at best. As I have yet to encounter the buyer who includes a fun bubble amongst his/her criteria, however, the fun factor is largely irrelevant. Your pool could turn into a cauldron of unmitigated mirth at the turn of a rheostat, and I am still not demonstrating it to every buyer who walks through the front door. That’s not salesmanship. That’s “What do I have to do to get you in this house today?”
The oft overlooked component of selling is the ability to discern what is of material import to a prospective customer, and what is … well … a fun bubble.
Following a buyer around a home like the security guard at Ross is more likely to result in a restraining order than a ratified purchase contract. Selling the brushed nickel doorknobs, blood red curtains, pewter towel racks and five-bladed ceiling fan to the prospect who is only interested in the room dimensions is a losing proposition. You run the risk of chasing away a perfectly good buyer before reaching an item of any import to him, and/or missing a chance at the other prospect wandering down the opposite hallway unescorted while you yammer on about the Pella windows on a home that is $200,000 out of mark number one’s price range.
Enthusiasm and pride of ownership is commendable, but leave some mystery for the second showing. Gotta make sure the hook is firmly set before we can encapsulate your buyer in a bubble of home buying fun.
