"Hello Carly, my name is Mr. Johnson. I'm calling in regards to your listing on Maple Drive. I'm prepared to make an offer based on the description online, but I do want to see the property before proceeding. I will be in town on business tomorrow, and have a few hours between my last meeting and my return flight. I hope that we can arrange to meet for a walk-through at 7:30pm. If that will be possible for you, please return my call, and I'll look forward to meeting you tomorrow."
That was the only message on my voice mail when I arrived at the office yesterday morning. I was new to the real estate business, and was still waiting for my first sale a few months after getting started. When I originally thought of getting into real estate, the market was incredibly hot, and I was sure it would be a great way to save money for graduate school without having to put in too many hours. Unfortunately, things had cooled down since then, and I didn't yet have any sales to show for my enthusiasm and hard work.
Needless to say, I immediately followed up on this lead. It wasn't every day that someone called out of the blue, ready to make an offer! I normally wouldn't agree to meet a new client for the first time at such a late hour (it would be after dark this time of year), but I decided to trust my gut feeling about the man from the businesslike tone of his voice mail, and go ahead with setting up the meeting. I returned his call, and when he didn't answer, left him a message confirming that I would be delighted to meet him at 7:30, and gave him my cell phone number in case anything came up.
Yesterday had dragged on after I placed that call and went to my classes. Today, after a few hours of homework, I turned my focus to the meeting, and the potential of my first sale. I wanted everything to be perfect, and decided I should arrive at the house on Maple Drive early. I grabbed a quick dinner on campus at about 6:00, and then went back to my apartment to pick out the perfect outfit. Since getting into real estate, I had quickly learned that appearance was critical. Some people talk about 'location, location, location', but appearances - of the house, of the neighborhood, of the realtor - can make or break a deal.
I was proud of the careful staging I had done of the vacant house on Maple Drive, asking the sellers to leave certain pieces of furniture and decor. Now it was time to present myself appropriately to this particular potential buyer. From his voice mail, I knew that he was a confident, well-off businessman, professional and no-nonsense. So I changed out of my college-student attire into the one suit I owned, a fitted black jacket and matching knee-length skirt. I chose a red silk blouse to wear under the jacket, and then settled on black stockings with a subtle fishnet pattern, and black heels. As I stepped in front of the mirror to do my hair, I enjoyed the feeling of confidence that washed over me. I looked professional, on par with what I expected from this mystery man, but I also looked hot, my 22-year-old body filling out every curve of this suit perfectly. My shoulder-length blonde hair now pinned back, I headed out to meet him.
I arrived at the house at 7:15 - plenty of time to do a quick walk-through to make sure everything was in order. I turned on lights here and there, lit a few candles, and turned on some music in the living room. I made sure that the windows on the south side of the house were closed, to keep out the road noise that was really the only negative about the house's location. Everything was ready, so I stood by the front window, watching for him to arrive.
At exactly 7:30, I saw a nondescript sedan pull up in front of the house, and watched as a man emerged from the driver's side. Dark as it was, I didn't see him clearly until he stepped onto the porch into the light from the house. Damn, he was handsome! I was glad I had decided to wait inside and let him ring the doorbell, because it took me a moment to regain my professional demeanor. He was tall, probably 6'3", with an athletic body which looked spectacular in his designer suit. He had striking blue eyes and close-cropped brown hair, with a bit of gray in his five-o-clock shadow. I guessed he was probably in his late 30s, and that's as far as I got with admiring his appearance before he rang the doorbell.
Taking a few deep breaths and walking slowly the few steps towards the door, I greeted him with a welcoming gesture, inviting him into the house as I said, "Mr. Johnson, I presume?"
"Yes, thank you for meeting me here, Carly - I recognize your picture from your website."
"My pleasure, it's no problem at all," and then, trying to sound a little less ridiculously eager, "please, take as much time as you'd like to look around, and let me know if you have any questions."
