Real Estate Snippets

Mud on the Face

There are times when one wants to put a sack over one's head and pretend some things never happened.  Such was my experience with a Minnesota relocation client.

Mrs. IWTRTM (I Want to Retire to Minnesota) and I had successfully e-mailed several months prior to her visit to Minnesota.  A St. Paul property search was established which automatically sent new listings to her e-mail address.  A couple months passed with no further communication.  It had been clear from the start that this change in address for my client's would be in the future and we were just beginning the research this year.  I knew we were in a holding pattern.

A call came from Mrs. IWTRTM one evening.   Had I received her e-mails as they were coming to town next week and wanted to do a preliminary tour of neighborhoods?  She had e-mailed several house listings to set up showings for when she was in St. Paul.  The e-mail hadn't come into my inbox on my computer.  This was puzzling because we never had e-mail interruptions before.

The spam box was checked on my server.  No e-mail.  The junk mail in Outlook was searched.  No e-mail.  The junk mail on my server.  Nothing.  Even the deleted items in both places produced nothing.  It was strange, terribly strange.  Mrs. IWTRTM sent several more test e-mails from several different originating addresses.  Still nothing showed up.  In desperation she faxed the house list and the showings were scheduled.

The missing e-mails were such a mystery.  Where had they gone?  An embarrassing memory surfaced a couple evenings later.  Hadn't I set up a folder in Mrs. IWTRTM's name on my Outlook?  Didn't I establish a rule that would send all her e-mails straight to that box?  Sure enough, the IWTRTM folder had all the missing unread e-mails inside!

To explain my lapse in memory, this e-mail was sent to Mrs. IWTRTM:

I found all of your e-mails . . . every last one of them.  When we were communicating before I had set up a rule in my Outlook to place your e-mails directly in the "IWTRTM" folder.  Being old and of rickety mind, I forgot I had set up the rule. :-(   Today, I was pondering the problem and the light went on.  Sure enough, the "IWTRTM" folder contained several/many unopened e-mails complete with your list of properties, etc.  While I blush and laugh at myself, I'll try to remember to check the IWTRTM folder the next time you e-mail!

With mud on the face,

Bonnie

Behind This Door

Showing St. Paul houses is full of door opening.  The first hurdle is the front door which requires opening the lock box and finding the key.  Behind the front door can be irate tenants, "friendly" ferocious dogs, wild children, smells, or an immaculate but unoccupied house.  It matters not what price range one is showing.  The dangers or joys behind the front door run the gamut.

Beyond the front door exist other doors.  Usually clients wait for me to open those doors just to make sure someone is not sleeping in their bed or that we don't disturb an owner.  Knocking at a closed bathroom door is ALWAYS a good idea for obvious reasons.

Occasionally St. Paul houses have nooks and crannies hiding behind a door.  Those rooms remind me of the "secret" rooms of my childhood stories.  One basement even had a truly secret room as we couldn't find the door to the missing space that was partitioned off.  The joke was "That's where they hid the dead bodies".  The entire wall lifted to reveal the hidden space.

Although my joking comment has been that these spaces are where the bodies are hidden, I've never  actually encountered something that serious.  It's the fear of many real estate agents.  It would truly be a shock.  I would probably do what the agent did in this story and react later in private!

I can imagine the evening meal now.  "Hi, Hon.  How did your showings go today?"  "Oh, just fine. They really liked one of the houses.  And, oh, by the way,  I found a dead body in one of the houses."  "You what!!!!!!!?" . . . .

Memes Last Forever

Maureen McCabe, from the cow town of Columbus, is my fairy blog-mother.  That means that without Maureen, Real Estate Snippets would never have been born.  It was never my intention to write a blog as a marketing tool or for any other purpose.  My blogging started because Maureen wrote on a list-serve in which we both participated that I should be a blogger.  I didn't even know what a blog was.  The radio commentators occasionally mentioned blogs, but I didn't have the faintest clue.  That was the fall of 2006.  Maureen had been blogging alone for a whole year.  Maureen kept at me like a flea on a dog.  Nip, nip, nip until her blogging idea became a question in my mind.  Should I check it out?  She gave me some suggestions of free places to start and thus was born Real Estate Snippets.

So, now, Maureen is pestering me again by tagging me for a meme.  It's not like this meme hasn't been here before.  How many times can I answer 7 things about myself?  Meme tag is part of the blogging world, however, and once tagged, you're it.  I'm it this time, so here goes:

1. I like the challenge of learning new things, especially things that I need to be creative to learn.  Once I've figured out the puzzle, however, I'm easily bored.
2. I remember when a pound of hamburger was $.19 and a quarter pound Baby Ruth candy bar was $.25.
3. My most boring job was watching tellers count money designated for destruction at the Federal Reserve Bank.  The tellers counted and we had to make sure they didn't steal any.
4. My father was a "preacher man" so we moved a lot and never lived in our own homes.  As a result, my husband and I were the first on both sides of the family to buy our own home.
5. I'm an accomplished seamstress having copied designer clothing for my children, created wedding and bridesmaids' gowns, swimsuits, blue jeans, lingerie, snowsuits, etc., throughout my lifetime.  My first stitches were made with a treadle sewing machine.
6. I own and play with a Webkinz named "Ducky".  He's a Google but looks like a platypus to me.  It's annoying that I can only search for gems once a day!
7. I was not allowed to drive a car until I could change all four of the tires on that car.  My first tire changing experience was on a 1967 nine passenger station wagon, when cars were actually made of metal.  It was quite the heavy beast to jack up by hand.

I tag:

• Mollie Wasserman, author and creator of the "Internet Warning"
• Tracy Santrock, from "down under"
• Dean Moss of Chicago
• Beth Patnode, home stager in Minneapolis and St. Paul
• Ines Hegedus-Garcia of Miamism

Car Shopping

My list of features needed in a car are quite simple.  It had to be front wheel drive (The only rational choice for driving in snow.)  It had to be automatic transmission (Afterall, talking on the cell phone, checking addresses, applying make-up and shifting are too many tasks to juggle at once.).  It had to have four doors for carting around home buyers.  I preferred leather seats (so real estate clients can eat in my car with no concerns about spilling), but that was a want, not a need.  The final criteria was that it could not be blue and even that was negotiable.

What I really wanted was a Mustang (no front wheel drive and it's really just for reminiscing as the Mustang is the car my husband traded to marry me) or an Eclipse (Don't get me started on how pretty they are!). 

What I wanted to pay wouldn't buy a Lincoln.  What I got was an Altima.  Not the Camry I went to buy and not the Accord that I thought I'd end up with.  An Altima?  One sales pitch said Altimas now hold their resale value even better than Camry's.  "Just check the Consumer Reports articles we've got posted on the wall."  Pushy salesman.  I didn't care to read the reports.  I just wanted to get out of his territory. 

Ultimately the car salesman made the difference (We went to the first salesman that listened to what our criteria was.).  The headroom decided it all.  The price was important but in the final decision the car was one year older, the same price, but a little smoother ride and I didn't clunk my head when I got in and out.

Just like my St. Paul real estate buyers, now that I've made the choice, I'll probably do the research to justify why I bought this car instead of another in the same price range.  That way I can look like my decision was intelligent rather than emotional.

Back to Work

Well, it seems I've checked out long enough and have to return to the salt mine!  It's been a pleasant time away enjoying family, catching up on paperwork, and generally moving forward in life.  Family . . . that's what the holidays are about.  It wouldn't matter if I received no presents or could give no presents, being together is the biggest present of all. 

It's my sincere hope that your holidays were rich with special people in your lives. Whether those people were family, or adopted family (sometimes "chosen" sisters are closer than real ones!),  I hope that you all came away richer for the time spent together.

Seeking St. Paul Warmth

Maneuvering St. Paul streets in the winter is a full time job.  Avoiding cars parked in the middle and keeping from sliding off the ice hump that forms between the tire tracks in the road is a matter for concentration.  My successful machinations were interrupted when I glanced to my left down a side street.  There were a bunch of fuzzy lumps on a roof which caught my eye.  Much to my surprise, the trip around the block showed this cozy bunch of pigeons clustered close to the roof vent hoping to capture a bit of heat.

As an aside, I also noted that even though the roof appears relatively new, there are some missing and lifted shingles that need attention far more than the pigeons homing there!

Snow in St. Paul

That's my car.  It's supposed to be a REALTOR's® car, but today it tells me it's just a plain old cold car that can't see a thing!  When I look at my buried car and my buried sidewalk and the buried road and the snow plow pile at the end of my driveway and the salt slicked plowed roads . . . well, you get the picture.  Why on earth do I like snow?  And why on earth are they taking so long to repair our snowblower?

Let me list the ways that winter and snow impacts a St. Paul REALTOR's® life:

• Cars must be cleared of snow for client use.  Add 15-30 minutes for snow removal!
• Cars must be CLEAN for client use.  Consider the salty spray from St. Paul streets and the freezing cold that ices doors shut after car washes.
• Boots . . . have to be worn to keep the feet warm and dry, but they also have to be removed at the door of every showing and put back on after the showing.  Picture a 58 year old woman hopping on one foot on a wet slippery floor holding gloves, keybox, flashlight and MLS sheets while trying desperately to pull on winter boots.
• Coats . . . must be worn to keep warm outside.  Add 5 minutes to every house showing for removal and donning of winter gear.
• Gloves . . . hinder the ability to punch in the code on the electronic key!  They must be removed AND held while punching in the code.
• Small entryways . . . filled with melting snowy boots, hats, gloves, and coats.  Someone has to stand outside in the cold in order to give the others room to don their clothes!
• Daylight savings time . . . means most showings are in the dark.  Add one flashlight to the other "stuff" I have to carry to showings!
• Snow covered or icy walks from melting snow are hazardous!   Boot style changes are required.  Flat boots with good tread are required.  Who cares about fashion?
• Parking for showings on St. Paul streets requires letting the client out in the street and then parking close to the plow drift at the curb.
• Climbing the plow drift by the curb to get to the sidewalk leading to the house is dangerous.  If the house has an alley (which most St. Paul houses do), sellers often forget that prospective buyers may have to be mountain climbers to get from the street to the front sidewalk of the house.
• Steps . . . often are packed with snow and ice and are especially hazardous when they are narrow or not level.
• Lack of hand rails . . . is great in the summer, but make traversing steps in the winter very hard.

The list goes on and on, but I still like the snow.  It's fresh and clean when it first falls.  It covers my garden with a warm blanket.  It makes the Christmas lights sparkle even more.  Best of all, it's not permanent!  It makes me appreciate spring that much more.  In the meantime, the snow gives me a great excuse to drink cocoa by the fire.

Green Issues

Today bloggers are joining together in Blog Action Day, a day to emphasize the environment.  The invitation proclaimed that all opinions were welcome, so here I am, "green", but not fanatically so.

Green used to be just a color.  It used to be the color of grass and tree leaves.  It was a color in the crayon box. 

Green is the current fad.  If a flood happens, it's a green issue.  If a hurricane happens, it's a green issue.  If a tornado comes, it's a green issue.  Transportation is a green issue.  Fertilizing the lawn is a green issue, especially in St. Paul where the dandelions are just one more flower!  Cows passing gas has become a green issue!  There was even a green house at the Minnesota State Fair.  And not to be forgotten, if you're not green, you're politically dead!

Care of the environment is important to me.  Anyone who joined me in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area can attest to my fanaticism regarding destruction of that pristine wilderness.  Drinking water from the lake was a privilege I intended to keep.  Every small bit of paper, foil, twist ties, fuzz, etc., was carefully gleaned from our campsite and surrounding area.  If someone else's trash dump was discovered as we foraged for dead trees, we hauled their trash out with us . . . on our backs. 

I recycle. I recycle houses.  I recycle lights.  I bring my pop cans and water bottles home from places that don't recycle.  Don't, however, expect me to carry my own mug (I'm already a packhorse!) or get on the E85 bandwagon.  There are too many hungry people that could use that corn instead of my car.  Carbon credits . . . not in my back yard!  No way do I want the government getting involved in how many emissions I have in my life, and charging me if I go over the average!  The next thing I know, they'll be measuring my bodily functions as well!   

St. Paul recycles as well, and not just at the curb.  A unique characteristic of St. Paul is its preference for retrofitting buildings rather than tearing them down.  The St. Paul district heating plant is the largest in North America with all its incumbent benefits.  The Minnesota legislature is moving forward with legislation designed to reduce emissions from fossil fuels over the next 43 years.

From my perspective, it's more basic.  I keep my fertilizer on the lawn, not in the street gutters.  If I empty it, I recycle it.  If I can combine trips in the car, I do.  If I can add insulation to make my house more energy efficient, I do.  I turn off what I turn on.  I keep my heat down. 

Green is a choice we all make at different levels.  The very basic level is where I operate.  Whether I believe in global warming or not, doesn't matter.  Conservation to me is my part of taking personal responsibility for my place in the world.

Common Grounds

For years I've owned a greeting card that has a beautiful photo of babies of many races sitting together playing.  The photo was on the inside of the card and the outside was devoid of any picture or words.  The cover only had a cut-out of a dove holding an olive branch which allowed the different skin hues to show through from the inside.  The message didn't need words.  It was poignant all by itself.  Babies don't see race and the key to racial equity is to keep the innocence of youth which respects all people.

Real world, on the other hand, is fraught with learned prejudices and bias.  Common vernacular like "black list", "Indian giver", and "Dutch treat" are rooted in stereotypes.  Over the years, politically correct terminology has changed as well.  In the late '60's early '70's, an African American was correctly called "black".  That evolved to permutations of African, African American, and in the '90's the University of Minnesota was using the term "people of color" in their human relations classes.  The latest term bantered around is "emerging markets".  The same evolution of terminology has been true for each of the different races. 

My monikers are "white", Caucasian, majority, and female (oppressed minority).  The last time I looked my skin color wasn't white!  Sometimes it's pinkish, yellowish or taupe, and in the summer it can even become light shades of brown.  The variations in skin tone for the many races of people I encounter in St. Paul haven't revealed many true "black" or "red" or "yellow" skinned people either. 

These terms are used to group people, but individuals may resent being lumped in with others of the same general race.  Members of African tribes can tell you very specific differences between the tribes and proudly want to maintain their differences.  The same is true of the subsets of the Asian and Hispanic communities.  Believe me, the same is true of the Caucasian "tribes" as well.  Italians and Brits are definitely very different and proud of it!

The luck of the draw in birthplace determines whether your station in life is minority or majority.  It determines how your skin tone is viewed.  Sometimes it also determines your economic position.   Migrating to a different area can sometimes change how your skin tone is viewed or your station and economic position.  A visit to Haiti by my high school daughter demonstrated how change in location can change one's status as she was meanly taunted on the streets, "BLANCO!  BLANCO!  BLANCO!".  Never having dealt with open hostility before, it was an eye-opener for her (but a good lesson) to be hated for her skin color.

The key to "getting along" for me is to find the commonalities . . . not the stereotypes, but the commonalities.  Parents holding their babies demonstrates a common bond in all races.  We all want food, shelter, clothing, occupation, and a better life for our kids than we had (Remember our parents walked 5 miles to school everyday in 2 feet of snow and it was uphill both ways!).   We all also want respect for ourselves and our children.  Focusing on our differences forces us apart.  Focusing on our commonalities draws us together.

Real Estate Agents

Are St. Paul real estate agents checking out?  Chris Galler, Senior Vice President of the Minnesota Association of REALTORS® is advocating that very thing both historically and once again this month.  Normally whining is not my forte´, but the urge to whine is persistent when sales are slow  (less income),  real estate inventory is high (contributing to  buyers shopping forever), sellers are slow to realize prices have dropped (tough listing presentation), and the senior VP of my own trade organization says agents who don't have 9 transactions a year are not professional?   It could drive one to become a ranting raving maniac blogger!

An agent from one of the big local real estate companies and I were chatting in his open house.  We were comparing marketing strategies.  Did the internet produce leads or did paper ads?  (Paper ads are yielding zero return for a big dip in the agent's pocket!) Why was he doing an open house?  (To please the sellers.)  Does he advertise his opens?  (Not in the paper anymore as he's had more response from placing signs on the street and internet ads.  Is anyone reading the paper in paper form anymore?) 

The normal conversational progression led to whether agents are leaving the business.  His response was interesting.  In his office, he felt some real estate agents were "checking out". 

"Oh, really,"  says I.  "Do the membership numbers reflect that?"

Dropping their license was not the kind of "checking out" to which this agent was referring.  His impression was that some agents have kept their license but have become discouraged and mentally left the business.  They don't seem as committed to marketing for future business or marketing their current listings.  They seem discouraged by the lack of sales and abundance of inventory and essentially have given up.  What an interesting thought.  Could there be some truth in it?