Much has been said about the realities of real estate licensing - the relatively low hurdles involved and the relative paucity of knowledge that one possesses when they’ve completed real estate school and/or passed the state exam.

(Note: paucity is only a $2.50 word. And never fear. Pictures are coming.)

Once you leave the testing facility, select a broker and file your paperwork with the state of Arizona, you’re basically here:

Someone likely will tell you to select a farm area in which to specialize, which represents only the smallest slice of the overall real estate market. With a little luck, you can walk right into those homes and maybe even manage a sale or two. Of course, in doing so, you likely are ignoring a larger reality …

This is the true road to success. A slow, steady climb where you continue expanding your real estate knowledge base as well as your selling skills. No one forces you to begin this climb. And on the way up it’s unbelievably easy to give in to that little voice telling you that you can quit, that no one will notice if you decide to go back down the hill and find the path of least resistance.

Should you decide to invest the time and the money and the effort and the gray matter to learn what real estate really is about, to learn the nuances of the contract and to learn the inventory and to develop some semblance of people skills, you’ll find a new world has been opened to you …

(Not so coincidentally, that’s a portion of Arrowhead Ranch … one of my main farm areas.)

No one hands this to you. There’s no elevator. Not even a friendly passing burro. With luck, you’ll have a broker or peer or spouse who will negate the quitters’ call and stay by your side until you’ve reached this point. You can do it solo, naturally. Many agents do so every day, walking into 100%, split-free brokerages and managing to survive without any training or assistance. But a little help definitely increases the odds in your favor.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m a fat guy. I wish I cut as lovely a figure as the Housechick when she’s demolishing stuff, but I’m nowhere close. One anonymous mouse who lurks around the Seattle-area blogs suggested I have my thyroid checked. No need. I earned the gut, to be perfectly honest. Fourteen-hour days and fast-food lunches between appointments will do it to you every time.

And still, there I was, on top of the mountain last night at sunset. All it took was a little perseverance and a supportive voice or two.

Those who succeed in this business are the ones who take the long and winding road to success. The fast-buck artists and “everything I needed to learn about real estate I learned in kindergarten” folks are the ones at the bottom, looking for the escalator.

P.S. To any future thyroid queries, please let me know if you know any Yiddish. If not, I have a few phrases I can teach you.

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