I should probably pause right about now and recenter myself, to find a bit of humility. I'm in danger of developing an arrogant streak. I don't get very many shots to do what I do, but when I get to make the attempt, I tend to stick the landing. I have talked to people who have had their agents write offer after offer, and never get under contract on a house. For my few clients so far, I haven't had to make more than two attempts before having an offer accepted. Granted, some of those contracts fell apart after inspection, but those were issues with the properties and the buyers, not with me. When I sense my clients want a place, that it could be The One for them, I find myself feeling incredibly aggressive and determined to get what I want. More than once I've landed contracts having been told "You weren't the highest dollar amount, but your offer was so well-written, we felt good about working with you." It really makes me wonder what other agents are doing. I am writing them exactly like I was taught, and I proofread three and four times over to make sure I checked every box I intended to. If I'm going to take all the time to do this, I'm not going to mess around. I told the Mr that I see it as the difference between being a tail gunner and a sniper. I'm not gonna waste my shot.
So, yeah, yesterday's crafty writing is today's contract. It means there's a lot of work left to do, but after taking months off to recover from everything that went down last year (between the skin cancer, months-long nonstop migraine, and tummy troubles), I am glad to feel independent and capable of paying my bills again. Or at least I should be, barring catastrophic failure with inspection or appraisal, in a little over a month. It seems weird to be so happy to be busy again. People who work regular 40 (+) hour weeks would love to have the number of hours of downtime that I have to take. Me, I'm thrilled when I get to feel like a productive citizen again.
This morning was a little amuse-bouche that hinted at the feast to come. Back in February, I was a showing agent for my managing broker, since I was closer to where his client needed to look. His client and I really only walked inside two houses. I spent the rest of a week making appointments only to turn around and cancel them. She was as laser focused as I get when looking for a house. She fell in love with the second house I showed her, and made an offer (that the boss wrote). I dropped in on her closing this morning, to have a last chance to offer my support. She was really cool and I would have been fine with showing her a dozen more places, but I respect her decisiveness. She's a woman after my own heart.
(Tonight's pictures are of the attic space that will need to be converted into a loft in the place we have under contract. I have the desire to help with the conversion part, even though I have to admit that I don't have the muscles to make it work anymore. I wish I could play too. Alas, I couldn't even climb the ladder to get up there, but rather had my client take my phone up so that I could see the space. There will be a lot of professional trades work to move key components for the loft. I don't have those skills anyway.)
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