Don’t let the kite fall

I found you, right there in Chuck’s house.

You’re still hiding behind your genius manifesto, just like when we were kids. I knew you were prodigy but too afraid to talk. Yes, afraid. Say what you want but a mirror answers and relays. I get you. Didn’t know if you knew. Not a prom, knew you. A person – knew you.

Premature time let me know who belonged in the scholarship sanctuary. Circles were drawn around the words not befitting. The shirt was too big and the innovation kept falling off the tracks. It was painful to witness.  The calamitous clock would progress to afford future fodder. Hoping it did.

Observation permitted me to forecast if we would be the same when we matured. Some are exactly as they were. They still dance the same dance, wear white gutchies and eat fish on Friday. I knew the good changes and the immobile but didn’t want to offend by telling. Storytellers cultivate. Writers drive a Viper. The map deviates a constant timetable.It fulfills the need to open the cage door and better yet – to share it in the feeder.

Words apportion a view of you.It is what you know how to do. It will never hurt you to look in my eyes the next time we speak. Your words convey that you know the world is not a punitive place. Rip the brown paper bag off of your gorgeous head. It’s OK. Put it on a billboard. I promise not to drive so fast that I can’t read all of it as I pass by.

I could hear your heart pounding in my chest. Don’t let the kite fall.

Directv go away – the cord is cut

May 22, 2013, I had Directv installed. My husband was recuperating from open heart surgery and was housebound. We had a very expensive roof antenna and Roku set-up. I thought Directv would offer additional entertainment. My precious husband died a week later.

Directv required a two year contract with a guaranteed monthly fee for the first year. I knew I’d get rattled and screwed over this combination. Due to additional emergencies and business travel, I did not watch television at my residence for approximately 18 months of the the two year contract. The monthly fees more than doubled in year two.

The programming sucked big time. The over inflated number of channels is due to the inordinate number of shopping channels. No one needs another ShamWow. HLN has Nancy Grace sensationalized screeching babble. What happened to actually being able to watch the news headlines? MTV used to play music videos. Lucky Dog viewingEvery time the wind blew rain on the satellite, the programming disappeared from the television. This is frequent when residing in tornado alley.

So, I religiously paid exorbitant monthly fees ($1,526.88 total) for a substandard service. On May 22, 2015, at 9:00 am, I called Directv to cancel the subscription. Oh, yeah, I should’ve known better than to think this was going to be seamless.

I was disconnected from the audio response unit 3 or 4 times before getting the “Retention Specialist” on the line. “Habeeb” wanted to know my viewing interests. I informed Habeeb my wish was to cancel the service. After verifying the contract had expired, he offered me HBO and a $10.00 a month discount. I told Habeeb I cancelled HBO in the 90’s because it only showed “Somewhere in Time”, starring Christopher Reeves. Habeeb then politely asked for me to hold and promptly transferred me to “Angela” an Account Executive. I politely informed Angela that my wish was to cancel the service. She threatened me with an extortionate fee if I did not return the Directv equipment! I asked for the address and stated I’d be willing to drive the 380 miles to personally deliver it. She asked if I realized I would’nt be able to watch Directv if I sent it back? Who does this woman talk to on a daily basis?

After finally confirming the service was cancelled, effective immediately. I thought it was the end of the saga. Oh, no, less than 4 hours later, “Larry” another Account Executive telephoned and told me he didn’t want me making a hasty decision. I told Larry to cancel the service.

Two telephone calls followed the next day and two telephone calls the next day. Day 3, I informed the Executive Associate Retention Specialist Supervisor that my intention was to file harassment charges because I had informed each Directv caller to take me off of the retention and post retention call lists.

Then the billing invoices started to double up. I paid the last current bill. Then, immediately after cancellation, I received another invoice. I paid it. Then, I received a bill for $2. 28. Thinking it was a prorated amount for one day of service, I paid it. Then, I received a call informing me I had a credit balance of $82.24. FYI, you are actually paying for services in advance of receiving them. I told this caller that Krogers does not make me post $100.00 at the door before choosing my groceries.

Directv does not issue checks for credit balances. They issue a prepaid debit card from citi. In order to receive your own money, you have to wait 2 weeks with baited breath by the mailbox for this prepaid card. When the card is received, you have to call to activate the card. Now, citi has all of my contact information on their file. When can I expect them to be hacked? After calling citi to activate, you are required to again register online at their website. The only way to receive your own money back is to share your checking or savings account information with these clowns. They asked for all personal identification that was not already on file, except photos of my oldest child’s 20 tattoos.

The transaction should be completed in 2 to 3 business days, via ACH. This account was cancelled almost 2 months ago.

I have since moved. Purchased 3 portable antennas at Best Buy for $24.99 each, on sale. Each television picks up over 40 local stations. Roku offers almost everything available on the Directv service including “The Profit”,” Diners, Drive-ins & Dives” and “Lucky Dog” – which is my dog’s favorite show.

BTW – Directv has extremely polite service representatives. They are just doing their job. It is the desperate corporate policy late in reinventing future innovations.

New habits living alone

My new stage of life has created new habits, procedures and practices. Living alone, after raising a family and being married, for what my heart thought would be forever, has created a lifestyle I was unprepared for. Everyday brings a new adventure.

For well over 22 years, I never woke myself up or had to make coffee. I am totally unfamiliar with how to set the alarm clock. The alarm on my phone is not loud enough, even planted on a docking station. Stumbling over the dog and canine toys on the floor in the morning to make coffee is still a foreign practice. I not only have to make the coffee – it isn’t delivered to me in bed anymore. I’m still shocked when I wake up. The dog has learned to dodge me, especially if I can’t find my glasses.

Getting the trash out to the enormous vessel on wheels is a monumental task. Then, the small bag of trash in the ginormous vessel on wheels needs navigated to the street on a designated day and time. I feel a little guilty from all those years of nagging the kids to get the trash out to the curb. My sons were famous in Covington Woods  for chasing down the garbage truck, dressed in whatever they’d been sleeping in.

Meeting decent dietary requirements is still rocking between “I know better” and “who gives a rat’s ass”. There have been a lot of wasted trips to the grocery store. It seems to be a difficult endeavor to purchase food. Real food – not cookies and bottled water. I wander around the store with no list or menu and leave with 3 bottles of wine. The emotional excuses are stupid but still understandable. I don’t buy in quantities anymore and all portions are too large. I can’t eat a whole pie – even though the challenge is enticing. I don’t want to eat the same thing everyday for a week. My cooking skills are not the best. Frozen dinners are awful. See where I’m going with this – It would be best to move the smoke alarm out to the garage and keep on trying.

I’ve owned ten vehicles in my life. I just changed the registration sticker in one of them for the first time. It sounds like a silly accomplishment but I didn’t know if I’d be able to get the old one off and get the new one on without screwing it up. Per square inch, it is an expensive sticker!

I had never used the riding lawn mower in the garage. Since finding the manual was overwhelming, I went to the internet for spiritual guidance. It gave me the direction needed for all mechanics except the one problem of driving over a ridge or hole in the yard. It took me a few times of bouncing off the seat to realize that is what makes the damn thing stop running.

Simple home repairs are manageable if I wasn’t afraid of breaking the faucet off of the outside of the house. It irks me to have to call the plumber to replace a rubber washer in a faucet because I couldn’t wrench the damn thing apart. I was able to use the fancy, battery operated wine bottle opener when I had a broken arm. Someone needs to invent something like that for faucet repair.

Social anxiety is a weird, new experience. In the past year, I attended a couple of funerals alone. This was an excruciating, lifetime first for me. It didn’t help that the driver side door handle broke on my SUV. There is nothing more horrifying than being crotch up in the windshield, dragging my ass across the center console, getting into the driver’s seat in front of a funeral home. I know Aunt Altie was laughing from heaven xx

A social event at a friend’s home, produced an instance that struck me sideways. Someone asked me out. It was a shudder moment that left my mind racing for a way to handle the situation. I am naive in that I don’t realize one’s intentions. I just thought he was being kind. Another broken heart left in the flying dust of the highway.

The DeWalt drill is now my new friend. My Realtor® signs had always been put together for me. Today, I drilled holes in a post, found the right size screws, washers and bolts. It took 3 HOURS but I think I know how to do it now! The drill scared the bejesus out of me when the drill bit flew out of it. No injuries to report.

 

©WriteInSpace.comhabits

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Airport opinion

Frequent and recent travel brought up opinions in reference to various airports. There is a reason to believe some may change for the better if it has been decades since you’ve landed there. Constant travel, especially connected with your occupation, convey preference for ease of exiting the joint and layover conveniences. Globe trotters and the family group of vacation awe gawkers are busy with the entire airport experience by stopping in front of you when you’re imitating an OJ Simpson maneuver to catch a flight.

Way back in the college days, my friends and I would spend spring break in New York City. One reason was the drinking laws allowed 18 year old naive fools the ability to make asses of themselves. The Greater Pittsburgh International Airport seemed huge and intimidating to those of us who rarely or never had flown before. It had been entertainment to make a day trip to the airport to watch a plane take off or land. This airport became a hub of comfort and familiarity as we all became frequent fliers. Then all hell broke loose in 1992 when the shiny and bright new complex was opened at PIT. People are still moaning for the “old” airport. No one likes taking a tram or train from terminal to baggage. We liked walking up and down the steps, dragging our Samsonites to the back door to be picked up curbside.

Those spring break trips landed at LaGuardia Airport. It was as if you were landing in a black and white photo from the graphic artist’s point of view. In fact, it was reminiscent of the brochures female high school graduates received in the 70’s touting the glamorous life of becoming a “stewardess”. I did a layover at LaGuardia Airport the other day and was astounded at the revamp made to the gate areas. It looked like something out of George Jetson’s world. Every table seat had an IPad available. Crisp and swift wait people were serving food and the environment exuded the high end oyster bar or cafe’ titillation. Sure beats the days at Houston Hobby Airport, laying my sleeping toddlers on a blanket on the filthy floor and trying desperately to hold my breath in the restroom.

We used to gauge airports by the availability to get to a smoking area between flights or the ability to make a quick cab getaway to an outside eatery or bar. It is now a day trip to exit an airport in a timely fashion. Smoking is out of vogue and standing in a plexiglass room, filled with smoke is not conducive to smell like an ashtray at your 2:00 pm business meeting. It isn’t proper business etiquette to drink a beer at 7:45 am in the airport bar because you could smoke, if you purchased an alcoholic beverage!

Airport security is a touchy subject. It may look like you slept in your clothes when appearing at a meeting because the TSA tossed every item in your meticulously packed bag. I am always “randomly” selected to have every item I am carrying, carefully examined by security, especially when I am traveling with one of my kids. I was asked for my 9 year old niece’s identification, multiple times, when checking our bags curbside at Dulles International Airport. She wasn’t even big for her age and was carrying a Hello Kitty backpack. Maybe the checker didn’t understand the words, “She’s 9 years old!”. Co-workers intimately get to know you when a TSA associate is taking everything out of your bag and your dirty gutchies are out on the table.

Flying is an improvement when comparing it to a ship or Greyhound. Trains aren’t bad if the plan is to view the countryside. Local trips are still more efficient by car if the destination is within a 4 to 6 hour window. It saves time and you have a vehicle when you get there. Driving does insure that I’m not going to be wedged between 2 individuals with their elbows in my breasts, their dog breath blowing in my face and the window seat passenger’s incessant need to urinate every 12 minutes!

 

 

LaGuardia Airport

LaGuardia Airport

Another season – Another reason

Turkey and chilli should never be mixed together                            nor even be associated with each other.

Before cell phones, we would let our parents know we arrived safely at a destination by calling collect and asking for ourselves.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.                   There are no choices. Just silent voices.

Wind blows through me.

What’s up with that?

Remember when watching television was free? Now I pay $85.00/month for commercials and shopping channels. When the contract expires, DirectTV can stuff their “Schiticky” up their “Aspray”.

Why is this happening to me?

Cherry Point, McKeesport, Pleasant Hills, State College, Mt. Washington, Houston, Sugar Land, Paris    ???????????

If all of your dreams crash screaming into the fires of hell……….

Dumb ass squirrels chewed the ropes holding up the bird feeder.

We love dogs because they act like little people in pajamas.

Pita chips are as tasty as sucking dry flour down your throat.

A seat sniffer on public transportation gets more respect than retail employees.Be kind to the associate fitting you for foundation garments or penciling in your bushy brows!

“The older you get –  the more invisible you become”

Rainbows are still magic

Being politically correct is really making my ass ache. Get the chip off your shoulder and lighten up. A decent human being knows the difference between assault and an innocent gesture. Move on.

Where are you? Jesus Christ, where did you go??????????????

Instead of joining a health club – cut your own grass, wash your own car, clean your home and cook your own food. Your weight bearing exercise, running and squats will be covered.

Live without a television for a month and watch your life happen.

For the life of me, I never know how much a postage stamp costs? It used to be printed on the item until “forever” stamps came into vogue. Someone should tell the USPS that nothing lasts forever….

No one says, “groovey” anymore.

When the horrific fright slams me and the world stops, I close my eyes and imagine putting my face in your neck and feeling your arms encompass me.

Can’t sleep – write

Can’t eat – write

Can’t talk – write

Jails and prisons are full of people unable to conform with the rules of society. This behavior is an exhibition of mental illness. If these facilities aren’t structured to address mental illness, a better idea would be to let these folks form their own society in their own city. They won’t have laws to break. Just drop their asses off and let life happen.

You sell me a non-functioning PC and charge me a restocking fee! Really?

Mushrooms are my favorite meat

Come on         Come on             Come on                           Come on

Tooth enamel paint, eye vitamins, Viagra, nostril salt water rinse, plucking, shaving, 4 different soaps & cleansers, exfoliation, foot genie, do the roots, gel nails,  false lashes, fake boobs, imitation truths – Is there any time left to give to others?

It’s all about me

Now, here’s the deal…

Entitlement:    creates a mind boggling whirlwind brain tornado – Just don’t understand it

Love*Peace*Power*Happiness

“Let it be”

Get off of yourself

Put all of your cards on the table

Love, Me xoxxoxooxxx

Naked in the wind is not always your best look

“And the forest will echo with laughter…”

oh god – here goes

Another season - Another reason

Another season – Another reason

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©WriteInSpace

 

Garage sale observations

Each region of the USA has a garage sale aptitude. Previous experience did not seem to make a bit of difference with the rhythm and dance of each community from Florida to Pennsylvania and different locations in Texas. We all know Texas is like it’s own country. What happens in Brownsville is foreign to Fort Worth.

Advertising plays a huge part in the prospective customer’s expectations. An estate sale will conjure up the customer seeking the Antique Road Show treasure they can retire with. We did make sure there were no $100.00 bills stuffed into book pages or rolled into a pair of socks. A yard sale banks on a casual customer and those flying the nest with tighter budgets or the presumption you are willing to all but give away the merchandise. The famous garage sale fires up the trepidation that there may be further entrance into the home or higher end assets must be protected from the elements. Multiple times we had offers to purchase the home or property. I don’t feel the inquiries were sincere. It was more or less the human need for further information. Not all sales are out of desperation, foreclosure or a move out.Garage sale observations

Pennsylvania sale attendees seem to be aggressive prior to opening day. They knock on the front door and ask if they can see the forthcoming riches. It doesn’t concern them that it is dawn and you’re in your robe with bed head and lion breath. It doesn’t faze them to bang on the doorbell after dark when man and beast is already butt up on the couch. They are non-apologetic and even act a little ticked that you won’t let them traipse through your home.If I didn’t know any better, they camp down at the stop sign until “Sale is On”. I even had a woman ask me what I was going to do with the valuable jewelry and glass! I informed her there wasn’t any valuable jewelry or glass. She said, “Honey, we know all the relatives strip everything bare before the garage sale!” I informed her that it was my junk. I’m very much alive at age 27 and I didn’t have any of that stuff!

The Quaker State buyers snatch and grab. They don’t even examine the items. It is as though they are on a game show and the clock is ticking. A favorite and common comment – after accumulating all of the highest priced items, is to offer you $8.00 for the entire mountain of merchandise. Itemization may total $482.50 and they are ready with the shocked and disgusted garage sale face. The attitude is they are there to do you a favor and you are an ingrate. I favored the patron feigning  to be deaf and waiving the $8.00 at me because they were stroking out because you are telling them, “no” to their cheap ass offer.

Florida had the most polite and gracious group imaginable! During multiple garage sales, they would line up in a formation similar to the Metro bus riders in downtown Houston. It was fascinating. Hail and tropical storms did not hither this assembly. It reminded me of the affluent bunch politely scouring the shoe sale at Nieman Marcus in Dallas. Their hearts are beating wildly but you can not appear to be uncouth. To our knowledge there was neither theft or breakage at the Florida sales. Offers were reasonable. No one asked me to deliver a furniture item to their 36th floor condo, 84 miles down the coast. I still shake my head at the man who purchased the pile of debris that was swept into a pile in the middle of the garage floor at the closing of a sale. What on earth was he going to do with wood chips and a very small piece of chain?

Oh, Texas, my Texas! Garage sales in a Houston subdivision are civil and non-eventful. It was the quintessential block party. You may have lived next door to the engineer from Exxon and his Junior League wife for 4 years and didn’t know them. Stick a Weber grill in the driveway with a table full of your kid’s Transformer underpants and it’s old home week. You would’ve thought we were joined at the hip. I wouldn’t have know these people if I ran into them at the corner dry cleaners. It was a discovery of we golf at the same club and share the same arm pit specialist. They pay what is posted and notice that the satchel you pack their new belongings into is from Ann Taylor. You pick and choose who to give your prized shopping bags to.Some of these egos can’t tolerate a Walmart plastic bag. A bag from Barneys will actually yield an additional sale because they think you’re a regular shopper at a place that has extremely overpriced pants.

Garage sales in the paradise of Paris, Texas let you know you are a real person among good people, except for the family dropping “F” bombs on each other. During my short tenure at country living, in the bible belt, this behavior was, as my grandmother would say, “rather unbecoming”! “Yeah, baby”, every character type, cowboy, farmer, Hispanic, MeeMaws, ranchers, city folk, single parents, widows and widowers marched through at a consistent stream. This group didn’t do “the line-up”. A large number of them stopped by the house the day before the sale to observe the setup! In fact, the first customer didn’t appear until a half hour after opening. Country folk like to visit. I had 7 gentleman tell me they lived alone and some even told me how big their house was – 4 bedroom, 3 baths! Instead of Match.com, I guess they see who is available at garage sales! I did try to introduce a few to each other but I don’t know if there were any hook ups! Over a 2 day period, almost everything got sold, even an old bicycle seat.

True and experienced garage sale buyers, eager to be the first customer, fancy themselves on presenting a $100.00 bill for an item priced at $.25. They know it will wipe out your cash fund, if you have that much in your cash fund. They are banking on you to say, “just take it”.

Garage sales are social events and a way of clearing out the closets and out buildings. My favorite part is watching the eager and ecstatic people so pleased with their new treasures.

 

 

 

Rescue dogs

The most intelligent dogs I’ve had the privilege of living with have been mixed breed rescue dogs. This is not to say that the pedigreed dogs were stupid. It is a comparative observation. It doesn’t lessen the love. The mixed breed dogs were quick to learn commands and would do anything to please. There were a lot less health issues as well as being a lot less maintenance. Rescue dogs are capable of having as much high heart value as an expensive, paper’d, pedigreed dog.
The CockaDocker and Beagle-Basset were not the dogs mustering attention during long walks. The Dachshund and Cocker Spaniel were always the relatable dogs. “Oh, we had a dog just like that.” The Cockapoo was always mistaken to be a Terrier and the CockaDocker was always thought to be a baby Lab, Most of the time, there were multiple dogs in our household. When one dog garners attention, it was as if to say, one child is beautiful and the other two are homely! Just like a jury of your peers, we did work hard at creating personality for the quiet puppy or the one with an “up front” personality.
Texi, our Beagle-Basset was a notorious bitch, to say the least. At the time, she was the lone female with two male cohorts. She was amicable and well behaved but did like laying on her duck rug in the corner of the breakfast room. I made her a red lace dress out of fabric printed with a young Elvis Presley on it, for Halloween. This was almost an exercise of desperation to liven this young lady up. Believe me, with an active young family and a couple of jobs, I was lucky to pluck an eyebrow let alone make a dog dress! Femininity blossomed from her spirit when I gave her a middle name, Texi Anne. A resident Diva Dog with a bark like a Basset Hound was akin to an unattractive, diamond decorated aunt who always brought candy but bitched about the entrée served for dinner. This precious rescue dog ended up being a savior when someone, uninvited, entered our home. Texi Anne took a mega bite out of the intruder. She came to us, on ‘Go Texan Day” from a friend who witnessed Texi being thrown from a car on FM 1960 in Houston, Texas, one sleety, rainy night. We had her for 12 years. She is still missed.

 

Harley

Harley

Harley, a pure bred mini Dachshund, was delivered to our door by a neighbor. He was a puppy, as big as my hand. This dog had been bred to be sold, as in money making profit product. We were the last chance to take him because the families he had previously been sold to brought him back because he kept crying. Being the runt, the breeder family didn’t want to deal with him. Mr. Runt was obviously cutting into the bottom line. It was either we take him or he was going to the pound.
Harley possessed an uncanny and comical personality. He’d do laps in the bathtub and take the king size comforter off of our bed and drag it through the house. His legs were exactly one inch long and at his heaviest, he weighed 10 pounds. Har was an alpha dog with the management style of a Harvard Business School graduate. If the doorbell rang, Harley would lie in his dog bed and bark for one of the other dogs to rush the front door to announce the visitor or dinner delivery. This dog would come when he was called and show up at meal time. That was the extent of his disciplines. He ran our home like a drill sergeant and we willingly fell for his every whim. He was happy being carried around and loved on constantly. We didn’t have favorites but Harley was a remarkable treasure of the heart.
Our smartest rescue dog is a Schnauzer mix. Vincent Star (Vinnie) is addicted to television. His favorite show is “Lucky Dog” and anything on Animal Planet is a strong substitute. If allowed, he’d monopolize the TV with his programming and forfeit PupCorn, his favorite treat, at the instant he hears Brandon McMillon’s voice on Saturday mornings. Vinnie is extremely disciplined and rarely misses a command. His life purpose is to please and be loved. Except for lying on a freshly painted baseboard, I can’t remember any other instance of him being subjected to dog jail. Vinnie is the poster puppy for play, performance and pleasure. Approximately 12 years ago, a neighbor rescued Vinnie from the local animal shelter. The neighbor died 2 weeks later. Instead of returning the 12 week old puppy to the shelter, Vincent became the third Musketeer of our gaggle of dogs.
I read an article in The Dallas Morning News, Sunday, August 5, 2012 in reference to a photographer in Taiwan, making a social statement by photographing dogs immediately before they are euthanized. The article prompted me to write the blog entry, Dogs to advocate for 4 legged furry friends. Again, if you are unable to give a home to one of God’s innocent creatures, please advocate for them.

My personal experience with interviewing real estate agents

Interviewing a real estate agent to sell your home is the process of hiring a professional to work for you. The majority of home owners consider their homes, their largest asset. It is important to hire a real estate agent with the expertise, professionalism and guidance to sell your home with a positive outcome.

My personal experience with interviewing real estate agents left a lot to be desired. I am a Texas Realtor® and I am proud of my occupation and the real estate professionals I work with. We are an extremely hard working bunch of folks who take pride in what we do. Our customers are our priority. There is no boundaries for calling us or less than the best for performing what we are contracted to do. That said, I wish the whole world worked like my over achieving network.

I was put in the position to sell out of state properties where I am not licensed to perform as a real estate agent. Due to extenuating circumstances, I was put into a position to interview and hire real estate agents/brokers to sell these homes. Just like hiring a nanny, I was trying to hire an individual with my own work ethic, tenacity and perseverance. Instead, I met the following individuals:

Contestant #1 – I received a postcard, while in Florida, from a local real estate agent with accolades and photos of homes she had sold. I don’t know when she sold these homes nor do I know if she was everything the postcard proclaimed she was. My thoughts were that if she could afford the mail out, she must be experiencing a degree of success. I will never know because she never responded to my voice mail message requesting information.

Contestant #2 – Internet research yielded a list with the dominant listing agency in the local Florida community. This company also had the largest number of signs in front of homes. My voice mail message was not returned. I guess they are a busy bunch or never received my message.

Contestant #3 – I received another postcard from a local real estate agent. This postcard had a list of recent sales with the addresses. I called the agent and he answered the phone on the second ring. An appointment was made for the same day. He was on time and was dressed professionally. This true professional listened intently and took notes for matters important to me. He then answered each question,  briefly provided a history of success and promised to provide the services expected.

Contestant #4 – This individual was a referral from a friend. The friend had never used his services, but he was a known agent and neighbor. An appointment was made and he was on time and dressed the part. After introducing myself and offering him a seat, I never had the opportunity to say another word except, “Thank you for your time” when I was showing him the door to exit. This man provided comps that were not comparable. He talked non-stop without any hint as to what the commissions and fees were, his marketing methods or remarks about the house. In fact, he didn’t even look at the house.

Contestant #5 – I actually received a letter, in Texas,  from this real estate agent after he had seen that I terminated a Pennsylvania agents services. The letter included an impressive list of recently sold properties, marketing methods and sales strategies. An appointment was made and he was on time, dressed appropriately and was forthright in answering questions, offering professional guidance and a CMA (Comparative Market Analysis) for the property.

Contestant #6 – This real estate agent called me when she saw the “For Sale by Owner” sign in the front yard of the Pennsylvania property. I admired her tenacity in the attempt in obtaining a listing, but I informed her on the telephone that I was not going to sign a contract with her broker. I hung up the phone and an hour later, she and her broker were knocking on the front door. She was a new agent but doing all the right things for obtaining a listing contract, except listening to her prospective customer. “No” really did mean “No”. By the way, this brokerage charged a $250.00 fee, plus a commission which was higher than all of the other local real estate agencies.

Contestant #3 was hired to sell a Florida property. He was absolutely terrific. The buyer’s agent did not attend one follow-up appointment or return calls for days. Contestant #3 attended to all showings and inspections, even letting the buyers into the home to measure for furniture. The first time Contestant #3 and I met the buyer’s real estate agent was at the closing to receive her commission check. The title company informed the buyers when the closing was scheduled because they did not receive any response from the buyer’s agent.

I sold the house in Pennsylvania (FSBO). Contestant #5 would have been the real estate agent of choice for selling this home if I had run out of calendar to remain in Pennsylvania. The home successfully sold within one week. Contestant #5 was efficient with returning telephone calls and follow-ups. He is a strong communicator and great service is evident from his resume of success.

Many times, I have had to take on the role of both listing agent and buyer agent because the buyer agent didn’t have a clue as to what to do. Another problem I have personally witnessed is an individual with a real estate license but does not put the customer’s needs first. I have witnessed buyer agents leaving a closing to pick up children from school or run a personal errand. If you are a part time agent, represent yourself as such.  I’ve typed contracts for them and provided direction with routine processes.Their broker is paid a commission, as well as the real estate agent. Servicing my customer is the first and only priority. IMy personal experience interviewing real estate agents a it means a timely process to properly represent them but directing others on how to do their job, I’ll do whatever it takes.

A heartfelt appreciation is extended to all who assisted me when I was new to the occupation. Your patience is being paid forward with almost every transaction I am fortunate enough to pursue and capture. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

Just had to sell the house ourselves FSBO

If a local realtor, born and raised in the area, can’t sell your house and the prospective real estate agents you’ve interviewed are unable to listen, you may as well sell the house yourself.

My siblings and I were recently faced with the task of selling a property, located out-of-state. In fact, two of us live many states away. This home had been on the market through a local real estate agent for the better part of the year. To our knowledge, a hand full of people viewed the home. Follow up calls did not yield too much more information other than, ” the home needs work”.

Yes, the house was built in 1940. It did need paint and the floors were in need of something different. The MLS system allows more than 8 photos. The 8 photos featured included a gravel parking space and a street scene. The house has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a 27 foot family room, formal living room,  formal dining room, covered porch, koi pond and full National Gravel Photo abasement. The listing agent didn’t think it was important to photograph the additional storage cabinets, built ins or landscaping. The MLS listing included 4 interior photos. She is still wondering why I terminated her contract.

Following specific guidelines in the broker’s agreement, I sent a written request to terminate the contract and mailed it, certified mail, return receipt requested. After receiving confirmation of receipt, the real estate agent has yet to follow-up with a call to me. She’s called other people, but not me. I would want to know why someone fired me!

The next article will include the process I initiated with interviewing a new real estate agent to sell this home. Buckle up – it’s almost a comedy routine for an HBO special.

Obviously, turning this home over to a real estate professional did not turn the results we were expecting. My brother and I flew and drove to the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to assess what the problem could be with selling this property.

A couple of gallons of paint, wall paper removal in one room and removing the carpet, which revealed almost perfect hardwood floors, I planted a “For Sale by Owner” sign in the front yard. A week of touch ups and the lawn being mowed did not constitute extreme changes. It was still the same house.

The home was sold one week later. How? You may ask? A day or two after my arrival, I attended a block party and talked to at least 25 neighbors and informed them that the house was for sale. I still remember their occupations, big hospitals, the municipality, a law firm, etc. I informed every retailer I visited during the first week and every customer waiting in line with me that there was a beautiful home on National Drive for sale. I made myself known to even the employees on the surrounding streets who were replacing the residential gas lines. Walking my dog each morning and night also yielded new acquaintances to inform there was a house available to move their friend or relative in to. I accomplished in one week something a local real estate agent was unable to accomplish.

I am a Realtor® with a Texas real estate license. I am unable to work as a Realtor® in Pennsylvania. This was a clear FSBO (For Sale by Owner) project. I did what any individual has the ability to do. It saved time, distance, fees, commissions and anxiety. We, as a team, just did it ourselves.

I do not advocate selling a home yourself unless you have a real estate background. Most home owners selling a home themselves lose as much as 30% of a qualified list price. They are unaware of all available negotiation tools and are unable to promote the home through many internet avenues available only to real estate professionals. The right Realtor® will provide the best guidance for selling your property.

National B

Chairs

A multiple number of transitions and changes have me focusing on chairs. It appears to be a re-appearing theme in my frazzled brain. Trying times create a need to capture sanity saving modes to fixate upon. This week, it is chairs.

Recently, my brother, Humbucker, and I cleared out the family home to ready it for sale. In Dads new chairthe corner of the Florida room was the Lazy Boy chair he and I purchased for our father. The chair Dad had been sitting in for decades was decaying. Our mother had made covers to camouflage the worn patches. I am sure to make the chair socially acceptable was a consideration. During my last visit, I didn’t know it was my last visit with my Dad, I noticed that when he would push the chair back to recline, it would bounce and almost slip out of gear. I was concerned his head would hit the terrazzo tile floor. Dads favorite chairHumbucker and I thought it would be a glorious idea to surprise Dad with a new chair. After returning to our respective homes, we researched and found a chair which most resembled the one Dad loved so much. Ordered it, had it delivered and put into place. We were naive thinking it would be well received. Our Mau was thrilled and excited about it.

Needless to say, when I called Dad on delivery day, he said the chair didn’t “sit” the same. It was difficult to push it into the recline position for him. He had acute rheumatoid arthritis. Oh, I went into a panic. It was supposed to be an improvement. Mau told me the delivery personnel were kind enough to put the old chair on the curb and someone picked it up within the first hour. My heart sank. Always optimistic, I told Dad he had to break in the new chair for it to work the same as his old one. He graciously thanked us for the chair but our hearts were still broken over the decision of trying to change something so integral to his comfort. Dad passed away 6 weeks later. The chair is now in Humbuckers home. I am sure he thinks about the events woven through it. We always try and hang onto a thread of history.

A small portion of the furniture cleared from the family home in Florida was moved to my home in Texas. The movers were conscientious and efficient. I screwed up and missed a small occasional chair on the check list. I signed off not missing the item during the mini chaos. Mau loved the little chair Maus chairbecause she could easily move it to where it was immediately needed. So did I, especially during the months it took me to wrap up business in Florida. I took a photo of it with my phone because it was where I kept our parent’s photo safe from flying paint,contractors and plaster during the last rush of finishing out the house. It was important to keep track of it. During the furniture delivery in Texas, I was stressed from multi tasking, again. I preach all the time about making sure the plan is carried out and the items are accounted for. So, Sorrenson Mayflower Movers out of Orlando – if you find our chair, please let me know.

Moving a lot of furniture around, to make room for more, generates images from the deep crevices of your mind. The little rocker I grew out of a long time ago has had a lot of little butts sit in it since.My little chair with Joe in it Our children and their children have rocked in it, sang, laughed and cried in it. The little rocker now moves from the extra bedroom to the living room for visiting babies. It still has the X’s I carved into the back of it with a metal nail file when I was about 5 years old. X’s seem to be my sign off trademark to this day.

There’s a cherished chair in my home now. I should have learned from previous lessons, but this chair was joy. It was a lounge chair, bought and delivered, to be in place for Lover when he was sprung from open heart surgery. It was a wonderful surprise for him. He loved it. Lovers chair

I’ve witnessed daughter #2 crawling into it, searching for the comfort of her father. Lover’s cousin walks around it but will not sit in it, even if it is the last available chair in the house. His brother appeared nervous when I offered him a seat in it recently. He declined.  At first it was a shrine, I would stare at. Now, it is important to remember the few but vivid memories of moments shared with Lover as he sat proudly in his new chair. Always appreciative of being thought of, he was thrilled if someone gave him a koozie.

Don McLean wrote a song, Empty Chairs, which encapsulates a loss and pain associated with his chair. It was one of my favorite songs when I was a kid. Mr. McLean was wise and  I was young. It will serve a greater purpose to think of the magic in the moments associated with these chairs. The personalities and stages of my life by the side of those walking through with me.

One of the happiest days of my life xx

One of the happiest days of my life xx