YOUR REALTOR ISN’T YOUR PUNCHING BAG.
She’s the one getting it done.

There are days in real estate when you feel like a rock star.

The house photographs beautifully. The buyers fall in love. The inspection is clean. The appraisal comes in. Everyone answers their phone. The lender performs. We close on time.

People hug.

Champagne appears.

You drive home thinking, Damn, I am good at this.

And then there are the other days.

The days when apparently I personally caused interest rates, the housing market, the appraisal, the inspection report, the buyer's cold feet, the seller's unrealistic expectations, the lender's delay, the attorney's vacation and the untimely death of an HVAC system installed during the Reagan administration.

Welcome to real estate.

Technically, I sell houses.

In reality, I am part negotiator, therapist, detective, marriage counselor, marketing department, project manager, punching bag and emotional support animal.

Occasionally, hostage negotiator.

And apparently, psychic.

Here's the thing:

I cannot read minds.

I do not have a crystal ball.

I cannot make a buyer spend more money.

I cannot make a seller accept less.

I cannot make a lender approve a loan.

I cannot make an appraiser see value the way we do.

I cannot make another agent answer the phone.

I cannot make an attorney respond to an email.

I cannot manufacture a buyer for an overpriced house.

And despite years of trying, I still cannot control the housing market.

If I could, I assure you, I would be writing this from my yacht.

What I can do is guide my clients ethically, honestly and strategically as a seasoned professional who understands the transaction, the market and usually the problem sitting directly in front of us.

I can tell you the truth when the truth isn't particularly fun.

Actually, that's one of the most important things I do.

Because a good Realtor isn't the person who tells you what you want to hear.

It's the person willing to tell you what you need to hear when there are hundreds of thousands—or millions—of dollars on the line.

Sometimes that means saying the house is overpriced.

Sometimes it means saying the offer isn't good enough.

Sometimes it means saying the offer may be better than you think.

Sometimes it means telling a buyer that the dream house isn't worth losing their financial sanity over.

And sometimes it means saying:

This isn't the hill we need to die on.

None of those conversations make me particularly popular in the moment.

But popularity isn't actually the job.

Representation is.

Real estate is an emotional business disguised as a financial transaction.

People are buying homes, selling homes, leaving homes, dividing homes, inheriting homes and occasionally fighting over refrigerators like they're Fabergé eggs.

There is money.

There is fear.

There is ego.

There is nostalgia.

There is anxiety.

And there is almost always one person in the transaction who has inexplicably stopped responding.

So emotions run high.

I understand that.

But sometimes all that anxiety gets aimed directly at the Realtor.

If the house doesn't sell quickly enough, we didn't market it.

If we recommend a price reduction, we don't believe in the property.

If the buyer offers too little, somehow we've insulted the seller.

If the inspection finds something, apparently we should have known about it through Realtor telepathy.

If the lender is late, we should "make them" move faster.

If another party doesn't communicate, we should somehow compel them to.

If we call too much, we're annoying.

If we don't call enough, we've disappeared.

If we give you our professional opinion and you don't like it?

Well.

Sometimes we're the problem too.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, good agents are absorbing an enormous amount of chaos their clients never see.

We're making the uncomfortable calls.

We're chasing the people who aren't responding.

We're negotiating things you may never even know were negotiated.

We're anticipating the next problem.

We're protecting deadlines.

We're calming the other side.

We're trying to keep a deal together while simultaneously preparing for what happens if it falls apart.

And sometimes we're doing all of this while someone is yelling at us about something we have absolutely no control over.

We hang up.

We say several words that are inappropriate for the MLS.

We put on lipstick.

And we make the next call.

Recently, I finished one of those transactions.

It wasn't easy.

There were financing complications. Communication problems. Moving parts. Delays. Frustrated people. Frustrated people frustrated with other frustrated people.

Basically, Tuesday in real estate.

There were moments when I wondered whether anyone involved understood how hard I was working to keep that train on the tracks.

Then today, I received a text.

From the other side of the transaction.

Not my client.

The other side.

They thanked me for doing a great job.

And that one meant something.

Because they had seen it.

They saw the persistence. The calls. The problem solving. The things happening behind the curtain that nobody puts in the glossy Instagram post announcing another successful closing.

And it reminded me of something important.

You don't have to love everything your Realtor tells you.

In fact, if you do, you may want to check whether they're actually telling you the truth.

But you should know the difference between bad representation and bad news.

They are not the same thing.

So here's my little public-service announcement:

Be nice to your Realtor.

Hold us accountable.

Expect communication.

Expect honesty.

Expect market knowledge.

Expect professionalism.

Expect us to advocate fiercely for you.

Expect us to negotiate like hell.

But please don't expect clairvoyance, mind control or the ability to bend other human beings to our will.

Those services are not included in the commission.

And when you've got a good Realtor beside you, remember something:

You may buy or sell a handful of houses in your lifetime.

We've been through this circus hundreds of times.

We know where the elephants usually poop.

More importantly?

We're probably already standing behind them with a shovel.

Sincerely,

Your Realtor

No crystal ball. No magic wand. Just experience, honesty and one hell of a shovel.