This is a true story: I had the weirdest dream last night. It's been a bit of a rough week for me, multiple challenging transactions at once. I understand why my sub-conscious brain created this narrative.
I was showing a “fixer upper” to some clients, they had with them a contractor type person evaluating the house and taking measurements. It was post zombie apocalypse, we all seemed fairly comfortable with the fact that there were zombies about.
Being the type of agent who provides world class service to every client, of course I had their backs as I always do. In this case, it meant that I literally had their backs. I was inside the house shooting down zombies that were coming close – the zombies wanted the house too, but MY clients were getting this house. I know how to handle the competition in this market, I’ve got this.
As with all clients I serve, I wanted them to have as much time as they needed to take measurements and discuss the renovations with their contractor. Yes, we had very tight deadlines, I mean the horde was approaching, so I really really wanted them to hurry up. And I was scared in this dream, terrified really. I was running from the front door to the back door, upstairs, in the attic, then down to the backyard shooting the zombies so my clients could access the parts of the house they needed to in order to do a proper assessment.
I had a thought “Are you sure this is the neighborhood you want? The zombies here are really aggressive and there are SO MANY of them.” But, my job is to support my client’s choices, and more and more people were migrating here, so there was some significant ‘zombie clearing’ happening. The neighborhood has potential, on the cusp of ‘transitioning’. By the way, it was my neighborhood in this dream. Fixer uppers in transitioning neighborhoods are a great way to create wealth.
I finally resorted to my store of grenades. It was a dream, so at some point a bag of grenades appeared on my shoulder. I purposefully and methodically started throwing the grenades off the roof of the house (not sure how I got there, but again, it was a dream so we don’t need to dwell on those practical details) in order to try to get the zombies to go toward the grenade explosions away from the house. I don’t have a great arm in real life, but in this dream, I was making 100m throws, like a BOSS!
It worked for a little while, but they just kept coming at me.
Finally, I had to tell the clients “I’m almost out of grenades, I’m sorry but we really need to wrap this up.” Their urgency was about the house, not the zombies. I get it, buying a house is a big deal and the buyer deserves to understand everything they’re getting into, but….c’mon people, we seriously need to get out of here!
That’s when I woke up. Sweating, heart beating a mile a minute, hands clenched and teeth grinding. I’ll never know if that house was the right fit for those clients, and I want to know that. I want to know that for every client. The last thing I want as an agent is to have clients who buy a house that isn’t right for them. I’ll do anything within my power to help people understand every aspect of a house to confirm it’s the right one for them.
Moral of this dream – having the right agent matters. You need someone who will do everything it takes to make sure you’re happy. Beating down the competition, helping you through due diligence or shooting down a zombie horde. I’ve got your back.