Love's Real Stories

“You will never find time for anything,” said JP. “If you want time you must make it.” JP taught classes in time management.

I said, “I am definitely going to take a class in time management, just as soon as I can work it into my schedule.”

“Never leave until tomorrow that which you can do today,” said JP.

“Time flies,” I said.

“But you’re the pilot,” he said.

I eventually took one of JP’s classes in time management. I made detailed lists and schedules. I became a student of time management.

I discovered a problem with time management, a problem that stops even the best time managers in their tracks like kryptonite stops superman.

My discovery began when my client Roger called. “Hey, I have a lead for you. Get over here.”

Rodger was not on my schedule that day, and I had laid out a busy one. But Rodger was an A-plus client, an advocate, a never-ending source of clients and business. Even the best time managers agree that when an A-plus client calls, you make time for them first.

“Come on in,” said Rodger, “My neighbor Jack is gonna sell his place. He’s there right now waiting for us. Sound good?” It sounded great.

“Let’s get going,” said Rodger, “Time’s a-wasting!” We hopped in his truck.

“Just one thing before we head over there. I gotta return Jack’s rider mower I borrowed last spring.” We pulled up to the barn. “Shoot, I forgot I stacked this plywood in front of the door. Give me hand?” We re-stacked his 18 sheets of plywood on the side of the barn. Rodger backed the truck in, and we laid a couple of 2×8’s as a ramp to drive the rider mower in to the truck bed.

“Dagnabbit! Where’s the frickin’ key to this thing? Aw heck, we can probably push it. Give me a hand?”

The mower was a heavy beast, and proved unwilling to be manhandled up the ramp.

“Cripes,” said Rodger, “I’ll go back to the house and find the frickin’ key.”

An hour later Rodger was turning the key in the ignition to the rider mower. “”Son of a goat! Out of gas!

I’ll get the gas can from the garage.”

A half-hour later Roger gassed up the mower.

When we arrived at Jack’s place, there was note on the door, “Be back in an hour.”

“An hour ain’t bad,” said Roger. “Let’s unload this mower and go back to my house for a beer.”

That’s when I understood my discovery: the kryptonite for time management is people. To manage time, you must manage people. Good luck with that.

Realtors come from all walks of life. Interestingly, the most successful realtors are former teachers, according to research. It makes sense that former teachers would do well in Real Estate. After all, a typical real estate contract is the size of a small-town telephone book, and contains strange words and phrases like Liquidated Damages, Mello Roos, and FIRPTA. Realtors who are former teachers say things like, “Please refer to 14.B., Section 2, Subsection (iii) on Page Eight of the Purchase Agreement, and you will find clearly defined the item in question notwithstanding amendments thereto in subsequent documentation.” Their thirst for knowledge and their ability to convey information makes former teachers ideal Realtors, though their clients should be prepared for pop quizzes at any time.

Hold on. Actually, upon further investigation it appears the most successful Realtors are former Contractors. This makes sense because Contractors know foundations, stud walls, headers, joists, and rafters of buildings the way doctors know skeletal, circulatory, and nervous systems of the human body. Realtors who are former Contractors tend to pull out an extension ladder for a quick look into an attic space or onto a roof; or they might whip on a pair of overalls to make the crawl beneath the floors. Contractors can look at a home inspection report with the skill level of a doctor viewing an X-Ray. Their clients may, however, be required to sit for long periods of time in a waiting room at appointment time.

This just in: Other research has determined that former grocers, shoe salespeople, and daycare providers are the most successful Realtors, followed by former nurses, counselors, and paralegals.

We called the California Association of Realtors (C.A.R) for clarification.

“The fact is Realtors come from any and all professions you can name,” said a C.A.R representative, “but the available criteria isn’t definitive to the level at which we can determine the most successful Realtors based on former occupations. My personal belief though, is that the edge goes to former teachers.”

“Oh,” we said, “and what was your occupation before joining C.A.R?”

“Well,” he said, “I was a teacher.”

Lesson over.

I met a Realtor at a convention luncheon in the Bay Area who seemed to think I would be impressed by hearing she did all of her business with celebrities. I was half-listening when she said something about specializing in a certain type of celebrity.

“My first clients were Will Clark and Vida Blue,” she said. “Ever heard of them?” I froze, with my sandwich in hand, mid-way from the table to my face. She was referring to my two favorite players from my all-time favorite team, the San Francisco Giants, late 1980’s version. The sweet-swinging lefty Will the Thrill, and the fire-balling southpaw pitcher Vida Blue. Oh, I’d heard of them alright. They were baseball gods.

I looked at her and nodded slowly, my mouth hanging open.

“This one time at Candlestick Park,” she chortled, “I was in the clubhouse during the seventh inning of a game, getting papers signed by both of them for their separate deals. They kept running back and forth from the what- do-you-call-it, the dugout, like a couple of kids sneaking out of class. What a hoot!”

She looked at me for a moment and said, “Are you okay? You’re drooling on your sandwich.”

I was imagining myself as the Realtor for those Giants players. I would ask Will about his famous inside-out swing; how he managed to always get the sweet spot of his bat on the ball. I would get Vida to show me his two-seam fastball grip and his change-up that buckled the knees of the best hitters in the game.

“You’re a Giants fan, aren’t you?” the Realtor asked me.

“How can you tell?”

“Oh, just the Giants pen in your shirt pocket, the Giants logo on your jacket, and the fact that you’re wearing a full-on Giants uniform at a real estate convention.”

“Good call,” I said.

She told me she couldn’t care less about baseball; that working with Giants players was just like working with anyone else.

“So what if they’re good at baseball?” she said. “They’re like a bunch of overgrown kids.”

She’s not worthy! She’s not even a fan! I thought.

“But that’s probably why they like me as their Realtor,” she said. “I don’t think they would want me blathering on incessantly about baseball. Celebrities need a Realtor, not a fan.”

If that’s the case, I guess I would make a great Realtor for Miley Cyrus.