The question that goes to the heart of every real estate blog is unfortunately existential, “Why would anyone bother reading any of this tripe?”
Naturally, any author’s instinctive response to a question like this is going to be filled with pejorative language describing their typical reader and that is far from the wrong answer. I think you’ll find that authors are some of the most self loathing individuals in existence and everyone knows that an author only writes what they’d like to read. In spite of this, sometimes an audience will actually show up to glance at an author’s ramblings and may even stay long enough to insult the author in a tart comment. Clearly, this is the audience that we bloggers must lure in with assurances like, “Click here to see how to get a house with 50 dollars down!” Now, obviously I have no idea how to buy a house with only 50 dollars down, but that sure would be neat wouldn’t it?
Before anyone accuse me of duplicity, let me remind you that honesty is in the eye of the beholder. So, then how should we be reaching out to our audience? I prefer to express my answer through an anecdote.
By the Hair of Zeus!
Now it happened one day that I was called upon by a client of mine to meet him at his home to discuss his options for selling it. He had naturally inspected the listings that were posted in various places online and intended to dictate to me the appropriate price for his house based upon his years of experience and hours of research. Granted, all of his evidence was based upon prices of homes for sale and not prices of homes that sold, but that is merely a trivial matter in this gentleman’s mind.
His name happens to be Elihu, which I assume to mean “dim mind” in ancient Hebrew. Now Elihu was more than just a loud mouthed pushy sort, he also aspired to be a connoisseur of over sized, overly furry, bad tempered mutts. As such, while he lectured me on the finer points of online marketing, I gazed about myself in wide eyed wonder at the blanket of fur that covered nearly every flat surface in the home.
There was enough fur coating the floor that this man had no need of a rug and had only to spread a binder on the whole mess in order to decorate his abode with a delightful dog hair throw. In my opinion, it looked like the mud and feces that (presumably) his dogs had been tracking in would work well for this purpose and he was definitely on his way.
The fur did not stop in the living room though. It also coated all of the surfaces in the kitchen! Elihu was presently interrupting my observations by asking if I’d like something to drink. I like to think that the look of disgust on my face was answer enough for Elihu, but he was not named Elihu for his subtlety and insisted that I give him a verbal answer. I politely declined for the following reasons. First, Elihu is a disgusting boor and I would not chance that he has washed his hands in the last week, second, his kitchen looks like it serves as an adequate test bed for any aspiring entomologist, third, the dog fur.
This fur blanket on the counters was more than I could comprehend in one glance. I had to sweep all along the kitchen’s length to take in the mass of swirling shag that stuck to the counter tops and the sides of the refrigerator and stuck in balled up greasy globs in the corners.
Elihu fetched a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. It is important to note that this sink was also full of dirty dishes that extended back for probably a week. As he drew down the glass, he brushed a few wisps of hair off of the rim and proceeded to fill it with some sun tea substance that he insisted was delicious. I wished to violently dispute this claim but remembered that I was here on business and wondered how I was going to present Elihu’s home to anyone with a straight face.
I proceeded to ask Elihu when he might have the home cleaned up and ready for showings. He casually explained that the home should be ready to show already since he’d spent the last week cleaning and tidying up. As I strolled through the kitchen gazing upon all the gleaming surfaces that clearly showed all of Elihu’s many efforts, I stirred from my reverie to the sound of skittering claws and at least two dogs rushing in from the back door where Elihu had allowed them in. Elihu made no attempt to control the beasts and they proceeded to rush me at full speed and leap up onto my person, making every effort to scratch and slobber every surface that they could reach.
I’m told that dogs can smell fear, but the real question is whether they can smell rage. I suspect that they do have this ability as they both seemed to shuffle away sheepishly, snuffling the oddly clean footsteps that were tracked in on the filth. This was about the time that I glanced over at Elihu who stood there chuckling lightly.
The dogs settled themselves comfortably on a dirty brown sofa (original color unknown) and Elihu invited me to have a seat in the living room while we discussed listing his dog kennel for sale.
To converse with Elihu only means listening absentmindedly while he jabbers about everything he knows regarding selling homes including how it would be best to violate fair housing laws in order to secure “decent” folks for the neighborhood. At some point I made the mistake of glancing at his face only to see that he had a dog hair attached to his lower lip and every time he spoke, the hair would wiggle up and down.
This had gone on for too long already and I could no longer fight to insert a word here and a breath there. I stood up and handed Elihu a packet with instructions to “Look that over and let me know what you think.” The real meaning of course being, “I must go, you’re disgusting.”
As I edged toward the door with Elihu continuing his incessant blather, I extended my hand to politely exit. I opened the door and as I stepped out onto the stoop Elihu thanked me for coming by and then stopped and gave me a piece of advice: “Ya know, next time you really ought to remove your shoes when going in to someone’s house.”