The idea was posed to me by the first broker I ever worked for. in a conversation about production and sales, (he) looked at me and smiled saying "women are just better real estate agents than men." At that point I did not have enough real estate backgroundto make a judgment of my own, or even make an intelligent objection, so I wrinkled up my face and choked down the reality that I was destined to be "second string." He was never specific as to why it was so, and if I had pushed him I am sure he could have rattled off a healthy checklist of why he felt that way. But the question burned at my very core, what was it that elevated women above what their male counterpart could achieve? I mean, I have been a top producer in a couple different offices, but the question remains.
Then last night it became all so clear, if the concept that women are better real estate agents than men holds true, and perhaps then women may be better than men at everything, this may be the cosmic insight as to why. I had seasoned pork chops for the grill last evening, all was well, the grill was pre-heated and the rest of the meal was nearly ready. With the heat of the grill and the thickness of the chops I had calculated 5 minutes per side would do the trick. The chops sizzled as they hit the grill and I closed the lid because it is still pretty cold out in the evening. I looked at the clock when I entered the house, twenty one minutes after, got it, twenty six minutes after and then flip to the other side. You see I would never use the timer on the stove, that just does not occur to me to be a logical thing to do. I am in control of my grill, I can't live my life controlled by timers, I'm a man. So I scurried around the kitchen for a minute and then drifted off into the other room to do something. Gasp, I had lost track of time, I had forgot that I had a duty to man the grill. I shuddered when I looked at the clock as I sped through the kitchen on the way to the back patio door. I was thirty past, a full four minutes past the time when I should have turned the chops.
I came back into the house, my barque tonges held out in a jesture that seamed hold an explaination of how I had burned what should have been dinner. My wife lovingly looked at me and said "that's why we use the timer." Gadzooks, that was it. More important than the valuble lesson I learned from over cooking dinner was an appifiny on why women are better real estate agents than men. They are not afraid to ask directions and they use the kitchen timer. Mystery solved.
Dean Curtis - John L Scott real estate
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