Don’t quit your day job

I took a sabbatical from the real world in 2006. I called it a “real estate career.”

The last time I was in the real world.

I was bored with my corporate job, burned out and tired of the travel. Surely there was a more exciting way to live life and make a living, too?

I planned my exit well. Having been in the same industry and with the same employer for the better part of fifteen years, I saved my money, maxed out my 401(k) employer match, invested in a couple of idiot-proof pieces of property, got my real estate license, moved to the beach, took a voluntary layoff package from my employer, became a “top producer,” acquired a failing real estate franchise, became a broker, board member, trainer, and real estate consultant to the media and local community leadership.

I am not my FICO score

When I started buying real estate in 2003, I developed an unusual compulsion. I was a FICOmaniac. I joined one of those services that keeps track of your credit scores from the three major bureaus, and checked it nearly daily. I charted the ups and downs like a stock broker, kept spreadsheets, and analyzed every tick. Yes, not unlike today’s fascination with Facebook, I was addicted to FICOisGod.com and happily paid $6.95 a month for the privilege.

The business of foreclosures… Say what?

February 19, 2009, I wrote a piece called Face it, Galveston’s been Raped about my friend Alex’s Ike experience. It was awful — he lost his business and ultimately his home because the lender wouldn’t defer three months of payments during the Ike months, and wouldn’t restructure the loan because Alex was self-employed in a business that didn’t bounce right back. In March 2009, the bank foreclosed and Alex lost his dream home.

He moved on and found a new place and made peace with the fact that he’d probably be a renter for a long time, if not forever.

Today the Texas Attorney General called for a moratorium on foreclosures and sales of foreclosed properties, so Alex looked up his loft to see if it had closed yet. Turns out it closed a month ago.

Here’s the kicker. Alex owed $307,000 on the loft, and was happy to continue paying on it at that price, but the lender refused all attempts at compromise. But a month ago they sold it for $92,500.

If anybody has any insight into what’s fair, smart, or even decent business about that, please comment below.

Meanwhile, Alex is throwing up in the bathroom and asked me to send his apologies.

I was a Lasker Home Girl

As published in the August 2010 issue of The Islander Magazine.
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My name is Rebekah Boyle. I was born March 3, 1918, and my family moved to Galveston, Texas, when I was just five years old. My father left us soon after, and my mother found work as an upstairs maid for a prominent Galveston family. As it seemed she would be quite busy with her duties, it was arranged for me and my younger brother, Jamie, to stay at the Lasker Home for Homeless Children. My older half-brother, George, went to live with his father’s grandparents. I never saw him again and have always wondered what became of him.

The Lasker Home, 1019 16th St. (photo courtesy of Texas Historical Commission)

Jamie and I were picked up from our mother and brought to the Lasker Home by a stern but kindly lady named Mrs. Frenkel and a strange looking gentleman with a long beard, funny hat, dressed all in black called Rabbi Cohen. It was Thanksgiving Day in 1923, and before we could even unpack our small grips, the home became the scene of a wonderful dinner with turkey and all the trimmings, the likes of which Jamie and I had never seen. The meal was followed by a musical fairy playlet that betokened much thought and care and was played with great charm by the children, who seemed happy, and who we would come to know as our friends and siblings. The costumes, made of paper in the pastel and autumn shades, were unusually beautiful. They were designed by the matron, and made by the older girls. There were about a hundred people present that night, all having a festive spirit about them and treating us children like members of an especially large family, and I did think that maybe this place would not be at all an unpleasant place to be for a while.

Top 5 ways to avoid bad real estate agent karma

I was a typical first-time homebuyer. I looked at everything in town – all price ranges, all styles and sizes, all neighborhoods. Usually I used the same agent for all this, but sometimes I would call the listing agent directly or call on FSBOs (For Sale by Owner). I actually looked for about two years and had contracts on five different properties before I made my final commitment. In the end, I got mad and fired that agent who had showed me no fewer than two hundred homes, and closed without her.

Boy, have I got bad real estate agent karma.

Yin-yang, thank you, Ma’am

Brooke got up Wednesday morning in a particularly good mood. She was going to show property all day to a couple who had just three weeks to buy, which meant they were serious and would probably make a quick decision. She had emailed them listings to consider in advance, and they had told her which ones they wanted to see. She had a List B, just in case none of those worked out.