by Laurie Lochs
At once, my heart cracked in two. I dropped the briefcase and rushed towards him. I didn’t care if he hated me or never wanted to speak to me again. I needed to hold him and let him know everything would be alright.
“Come here, boy,” I whispered, going to his side. “Daddy’s so sorry he hurt you. He wants to do anything to make it right."
But before I could comfort him or wrap my arm around him, he suddenly grabbed the textbook and burst from the room. I tried to look for him in the hallway but there was no use.
In and out of my life in a heartbeat. The boy was gone.
Chapter 25
Kyle
* * *
Three weeks later
* * *
The next three weeks were the slowest of my life. Class, Ma, force myself not to think about Mark, back to class, play nice with Peter the instructor so I might graduate on time. I’d fallen into sort of a routine from hell that I couldn’t snap myself out of. But last week, Peter had said something that was very exciting. It made me forget Mark ever existed at all.
“Class,” he’d begun, “you’re going to start interviewing brokerage firms to intern with. You need to get boots-on-the-ground experience if you’re ever going to be professional agents. The best time in your life is to do this now. As I want you to succeed, I’m giving you an assignment. Over the course of the next week, you need to interview with at least three different brokerage firms. I promise it’s not harder than it seems. That said, you need to bring your A game. There’s no telling whether a firm will welcome you onto their team if you do well in the interview. Take this seriously, class. This could be the first step towards the rest of your life.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Samantha asked. God, I was getting sick of her, with her pigtails and “I’m-so-lost” attitude that she only put on to let people know how smart she was.
“It’s easy. First, you call up a firm and ask if they’re looking for new hires. Then, you—”
“But what if they tell you no?” a brown-haired boy in the third row asked. He wasn’t the brightest and didn’t know not to interrupt the professor.
Peter shot him a death glare that quickly eased into an understanding smile. “When you call the firms, you need ask if they’re hiring. In Minnesota, real estate agents are what we call independent contractors. That means that the individual firms don’t need to do things like withhold income for tax reporting purposes or provide health insurance or other benefits for agents. We work for ourselves, and we put food on the table by ourselves. So you need to ask the firms if they’re welcoming new agents to the team. If they say no, you have to push through. Class, that’s what we call an objection.”
“So,” Samantha said, “we’re supposed to ignore what they say and keep asking them?”
“Exactly,” Peter said with a nod, “that’s how this works, Samantha. If they say no, you need to find a different way to pose the question. That’s part of your job as real estate salespeople. When a customer — or in this case, a potential firm — says no, you need to rephrase whatever you said so that it better conforms to their worldview. For instance,” Peter continued, “instead of telling the lead broker that you’re a new agent right out of real estate school with no experience, you might want to ask them if they’d like to play a role in the molding of a young agent who will go on to bring the firm hundreds of thousands of dollars over the course of its lifetime. Even if the lead broker slams the door in your face, he’s apt to pay more attention to a question that’s worded to cast his business in a positive light.”
“Okay,” Samantha said, mulling it over. “I didn’t realize you needed to be so pushy”
“It’s sales, Samantha. Find a way to get an interview. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Samantha nodded in agreement. I nodded too and pretended this wasn’t the most ridiculous conversation I’d ever been privy to in my life.
But it’s real estate, Kyle. You’re supposed to be selling houses — not basking in the timeless artistry of Catullus or Cicero.
This was how I came to score my interview with the Edina branch of Edina Realty, one of the leading brokerage firms in Minnesota. Before being bought by Berkshire Hathaway, Edina Realty was a fledgling agency and was barely able to compete in the marketplace. But Warren had really turned it around, and so I was excited to interview there.
The one firm I hadn’t called was the Pressure Free Agency. I wanted nothing to do with Mark, agents who didn’t use high-pressure sales tactics to win clients, or that life ever again.
I threw on my best suit, which also happened to be my only suit, and hopped on my ever-reliable ten-speed. I really needed to ace this interview, because… Well, last week, my interview with the Minneapolis division of Berkshire Hathaway had gone horribly. You'd think that Warren Buffett's real estate company would treat their agents well, but they offered next to no resources for beginning agents. On the other hand, Keller Williams, one of the premier national firms, offered their agents a huge series of on-boarding that would get them up and running in no time. But their commission split was too one-sided for it to be worthwhile, especially if you had experience. Obviously, I didn't have any experience, but I still wasn't willing to give up 50% or more of my earned income to a brokerage that offered me little in return. At the end of the day, it was the individual agents that sold homes, not the brokerage. Though the name recognition was nice, it wasn't what paid the bills.
The biggest issue I'd have was transportation. To date, I've been riding my little bicycle to and back from MCTC. But there was no way I'd be able to carry clients on my bike. I needed a car. Luckily, Peter had set me up with an appointment with a local car dealership that, as he put it, "a buddy of his owned," and so hopefully he’d get me some type of vehicle to get around. There was no way I'd be able to afford or finance a car, seeing as I didn't have the money for a down payment. My only option was to do one of those zero-down leases you see advertised on late-night TV. This was a horrible long-term financial decision but there was nothing else I could do. After donning my best clothes – suit coat, dress pants, dress shoes, black socks, shiny watch that had been Ma’s ex-husband’s – I hopped on my bicycle and rode to the firm. Google Maps said it took 30 minutes but I got there quickly.
When I arrived, a blonde woman in a sweater greeted me at the front desk. "You must be Kyle," she said, all smiles and fake politeness.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, trying my best to sound confident and not terrified like I was. But my shaky voice betrayed my unease.
"Have a seat by the fireplace, dear. Matt will be with you shortly."
I nodded briskly and did as told. I hoped I wasn't sweating or red in the face from the bike ride. Five minutes later, an intimidating man with an orange pocket square walked out of the back office and greeted me. "Come," he said, beckoning me to the back room. My heart raced. This was my first big interview and this was clearly the CEO of the company. I took a sharp breath and followed. It was now or never.
Chapter 26
Mark
* * *
Stop, Mark. Forget about him.
I had to keep that in mind. I had three appointments back to back. Listing, showings, and a meeting with a banker to go over a financing plan for a preferred client. Where the hell had this sudden pickup in business come from? And on the worst day of the year, no less. I had to relegate the boy to the ether regions of my mind.
I had little doubt the pickup in business was a function of the Facebook ads Rachel had encouraged me to try. "Come on, Mark," she'd said over chicken falafel, "everybody's using them. You're going to get blown out of the water by some tech savvy new agent if you don't get on board."
"I know how to run a Facebook ad, Rachel. For God’s sake, this was the number one firm in Minnesota for years."
"Okay, hot shot,” Rachel mumbled under her breath, retreating to her office. “If you already knew everything, you'd still be number one."
I glared at
her. But I knew she was right. My knowledge of all things techy was virtually null. When I'd run ads before, I just set it up and let Facebook choose the audience for me. But after watching some tutorials, and with Rachel's help, I was able to select a highly specialized audience that would be more suited for the services I had to offer. Rachel said I should focus on seniors in higher income brackets, which I could access by means of ZIP Code filtering. I selected some of the top ZIP Codes in Minnesota and let the ads run. To my shock, business started pouring in the second we launched them. Now, it was time scrub any trace of Kyle from my mind and meet Joe and Susan, who were trying to sell their family home of more than thirty years.
Sliding into the seat of the BMW, I revved up the engine and made my way to their house. There was a traffic jam on the highway but I got there five minutes early. I pulled into the driveway and greeted them at the front door.
"How's it hanging, Mark?" Joe said the minute I stepped up.
I grinned and patted him on the back. I'd been in sales long enough to know that I had to take control of the situation fast. If I didn't, Joe and Susan wouldn't have the confidence in my ability to get the job done or believe I’d be able to sell the home if the agent I was negotiating with was more of a shark than me.
"You've got an amazing house, Joe," I said, making sure to use his name. I also purposely ignored his question to reestablish myself as the one in charge. It was insanely obnoxious and I hated it, but it worked like a charm.
"We love it," Susan said, beaming at her husband. She held his hand and leaned into his shoulder. "It's one of the most unique homes on the market. I know you're the expert, but… Well, I've been doing a bit of research on my own. There isn’t a house in this entire neighborhood that's gone for less than $950,000 in the last year. If we play our cards right, I think we could get over $1.2."
"As in, $1.2 million?” I said, arching my eyebrows.
"Well," Susan said, "Joe thinks we can get $1.3."
I gave the couple a very polite nod and let them show me inside. I tried not to say anything yet. It was better to spring it on them that it was always better to list low later in the appointment. I had to make a good first impression. If that meant letting them think that I could get them over $400,000 more than the same exact house selling down the street for closer to $900,000, I didn’t have a choice.
"Oh, Joe," I said, running my hands over the woodwork above the fireplace. "This is gorgeous. I'm in awe of your mantelpiece."
"You don't say?" Joe said, nodding like he owned the place. "This here is a… Sue, where the hell did we get it from again? Tanzania?"
"No, you buffoon. It’s straight off the boat from South Africa. See that figurine at the end?"
I nodded.
"That's real ivory. I know some poor elephant had to die, but it’s beautiful."
I tried not to say anything. On any other occasion, I would've taken them to task right then and there. But this was business. Sometimes it was better to bite your tongue, especially when you were trying to bring your firm back from the dead. The second you got home, you could vent.
After the tour was complete, I led Joe and Sue into the kitchen table and explained to them why there was no way in hell they would get $1.3 million for their house and that they were out of their minds. "You see this, Joe?”
"Yes," Joe said, nodding slowly. "Yes, sir. I do."
"You see the $950,000 figure you mentioned?"
The couple nodded in unison.
"Unfortunately, it looks like you were looking at the Zillow numbers. Zillow is notoriously inaccurate.”
The couple looked at each other in disapproval.
I continued my explanation. "You see, if you look at what homes are actually selling for in this current market," I explained, sliding a different paper in front of them. "You'll see that the most you can get for your house is $750,000. You might be able to get eight, but that's pushing it."
"But couldn't we try to get more?" Susan said, a look of disappointment on her face.
"You could," I began, "but it's unlikely it will sell. You both agree that it would be a hell of a lot better to list it and get all that you can for it instead of hoping for a bigger number that might never come, right?"
"I guess so," Joe said reluctantly. He didn't want to face the truth.
But Susan took a different approach. "Joe," she said, "we might as well do it. I don't know about you, but for me it's more important that we get to Florida to visit our granddaughter, than get an extra couple hundred thousand for the house."
Joe mulled this over. I was finding it funny that Susan was turning out to be the reasonable one. "I guess so, Sue."
After Joe and Susan signed the paperwork, I hopped into the BMW and immediately went back to the brokerage to prepare the listing. But before I arrived, I decided to swing by a friend's firm who'd asked me to pick up a few papers. He had a new agent that was trying to close a deal and he thought I could bring a buyer to it. So instead of taking the exit onto Hennepin, I took a sharper right on Highway 100 S and slid into the parking lot.
"Matt here?" I asked the woman at the front desk. She told me he was out. Must be at lunch.
I slipped down the hallway and walked into Matt's office. He’d told me earlier that if he wasn't at the office I could grab the folder from his desk. But when I entered the office, I was shocked to see that it was occupied. Matt waved at me from the desk.
It looked like he was interviewing a new agent. I squinted my eyes. The new agent was clearly young. His suit coat looked like it was from the 80s. From the back, he almost looked like…
Oh, fuck.
Hell no.
Chapter 27
Kyle
* * *
I leaned back in the chair and stared at Matt, the Head Broker. The interview was winding down and it had gone horribly. I hadn’t passed any of the tests he’d given me and the curveballs outmaneuvered me at every turn.
I was about to tell him that even though I was brand new, I could be a great agent if he gave me a chance. But before I spoke, he said, “I’m sorry, Kyle. I can’t risk having such a young agent on our team.”
The words stung me. I wanted to protest but all I could do was shrink in my seat. Matt was right. Why the hell did I think I could make it as an agent?
“Thank you for your time, sir,” I whispered, my voice weak. Matt nodded curtly. He shrugged and turned to his computer. After pushing in my chair, I stood and walked out of the room.
I couldn’t believe I’d gone in for an interview without being prepared. I thought I’d had everything in order, but when Matt asked if I had any previous sales experience, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a brand new agent who couldn’t sell a house to a homeless person if my life depended on it. How could I? I’d never done so little as sell myself to a man.
Sniffling quietly, I left his office and walked down the hallway. Thank you, I wanted to say to the woman at the front desk. Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job. She waved to me as I left and said I was welcome back any time.
You failed today, Kyle. You were supposed to fight for a spot and you didn’t.
Though Matt had been giving a standard objection to test me — one that customers would surely give me as well — I hadn’t interpreted it as such. I hadn’t had the foresight to know it wasn’t a personal attack, which it totally felt like. Matt had stuck a dagger into my chest and thrashed it about. He tore out my heart; in its place sat an empty void.
I turn around I wiped my eyes on my suit coat. I hoped none of the other agents saw how pathetic I was. Now that I was out of the lobby, tears fell freely. The last thing I needed was for some judgmental asshole to make a comment about how I wasn’t cut out for the job.
I walked to the bathroom, not daring to look up from the floor… Which was probably the reason why, when I saw Mark making a beeline towards me from the library, I froze on the spot.
“Kyle,” Mark said, his voice booming. His eyes flashed with excitement. If he was nervous, I couldn’t tell. “How the hell are you?”
Don’t talk to him. Don’t let this man who pities you back into your heart.
“I don’t want to talk,” I whispered, staring at the floor. I didn’t want to look up and confront him. I didn’t know why the fuck he was here and I didn’t want to. Because if I did so little as glance into his eyes, I’d see once and for all that he’d been right all along. I was not self-sufficient and I didn’t have what it took. I would forever need someone else to keep me safe, pity me, protect me. Someone like him.
“Sorry I ran into you, bud,” Mark said, pulling out his phone. He responded to a text and slid it back into his pocket as if he didn’t bear any ill will towards me or hold a grudge. He was just… There. Professional. Courteous. Any attraction this man might have had for me had gone the way of the sunshine and festive outings. “I just wanted to know if you’re my competition.”
My jaw dropped. Was he asking if Matt welcomed me onto the team?
“No, Mark.” I might as well have been saying, Your competition? As if. I’m never going to be a successful agent and you know it. Stop humoring me. I’m having a bad enough day as it is.
