Identity Crisis!

When I got my real estate salesperson license a year ago, I have to admit the label made me squirm. That day I became a licensed "salesperson." Visions of dismal failure danced in my head (singing, "Nanny, nanny boo-boo," no less.) Life was not looking up. I just laid out a few hundred bucks for the course, a couple hundred more for exam and license, several hundred more to come with membership in the necessary associations and I was already doomed to fail. After five years of booming, the real estate market was really, really slow. Still is. On top of that, I'm not a sales kind of person. Never have been. Given the chance, I will point out every little flaw and talk you out of almost any purchase. So what in the heck was I thinking becoming a real estate salesperson? Long story.

Over the past dozen years or so, I've been a struggling artist. Thankfully not a starving artist, but not because I was making gobs of money with my art. I got jobs, sure and lots of compliments on my work, but this amounted to egg money. Go out to movies money. Maybe a couple of fancy dinners money. Not pay the mortgage and put food on the table and clothes on the kids kind of money. I gradually realized that the main reason the kids and I weren't starving was that ten years ago I managed to get myself some real estate investment property. The occasional sale or refi provided me with the necessary cash and then some. I also realized that this had been a terrific way to earn my keep doing something I really enjoyed. I love buildings, land, houses. For me, watching the markets change, following what's going on in the varied Chicago neighborhoods and nearby suburbs, even other spots across the country and around the world, was so much fun. When it comes to clothes, I am not a shopper. Going to malls wears me out. I avoid them like the plague, but shopping for houses? Now that I can do.

When you read the manual, the Real Estate Salesperson Study Guide explains agency. The guide is far from a work of literature and has definitely never, ever been on the New York Times Bestseller list, but everyone who wants to make a living helping people buy and sell real estate has to slog through it. The guide tells you that as a real estate salesperson, you're acting as your client's agent. I like to think it's like being a secret agent -- without all the drama or the gunplay. But like James Bond, you're serving your boss's (i.e. your client's) needs and their needs come first. So while I may not have to take a bullet for you, I am required to help you buy or sell your property without constantly checking my own bottom line. And if I find myself on a luxury cruise surrounded by handsome men catering to my every whim and you call me, I jump onto the nearest helicopter and I'm ready to work for you.

Hey, it could happen.

Alright I'll admit what it really boils down to is that real estate agents are service people. Less james Bond, more "Have it your way" a la Burger King. Not so glamorous, but then I'm not a glamour girl anyway. And much as I've always wanted to somehow make my mark on the world, leave a legacy, become famous, etc. etc., I've discovered over and over again that service is what I'm all about. I like to help people, to connect people, to research and dig up information for people. And that is what a real estate agent really should be. If I can do that, if I don't have to be a cut throat salesperson, then I should do just great.

Wish me luck!