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2
Carm
After Kevin messaged me to say he was running late, I kept busy by looking up comps, but I see now that the enemy has successfully poached my client and I wasted my time.
“Kevin, great to see you again.” I cross the hallway, hand extended, boisterous voice and permasmile plastered on my face as always.
He hesitantly looks at the she-devil then back at me, extending his hand. I pride myself on reading people and I don’t need Braille on Kevin’s palm to know that I’ve lost his account. He’s asked me time and time again about the for-sale-by-owner companies popping up in this city like damn Starbucks. He’s a smart businessman and with success comes confidence. I admire the fact that he thinks he can sell his own condo, but I know I can sell it faster and for more money than he can. Not to mention handle the vetting of prospective buyers. The fact is, no one sees my value until they don’t have me. He’ll learn his lesson the hard way.
“Can we talk?” Kevin says.
The worst part about my job is the fake bullshit that comes with it. I can’t just say go to fucking hell and good luck with Gingersnap over there. She’s not going to stage the property, nor does she have Manhattan’s best photographer on speed dial to make it look as though it’s worth the inflated price he’s demanding. Instead, I smile, open my office door, and allow him in, giving Miss Scott my back as though I couldn’t care less that she stole my client.
Jot this down—don’t ever let the competition see you upset. Horrible rookie mistake.
I don’t bother taking Kevin to my office. Instead, I pull him into the conference room while my right-hand man, Justin, watches from afar, probably wondering what the hell is going on. There are clients you wine and dine and there are old faithfuls. Kevin was in the latter category until five minutes ago. Hell, maybe I messed up and should’ve wined and dined him.
I shake my head. Nah, I’m never wrong.
“So you’re trying your hand at going FSBO, huh?” I ask, sitting at the head of the table.
Kevin slides into the chair to my left, his hands clasped in his lap. He’s not going to act ashamed because he’s not. To him, I provide a service to fulfill his needs. In his mind, he doesn’t need me. But I’ll see the ashamed Kevin when he comes crawling back in three months because no one has bought the condo he thinks is such a hot commodity it can sell itself.
“I have to, Carm. You know I’ve been wanting to.”
“Anything I can say to change your mind?” I ask.
“I’ve already signed the contract.”
I nod and put out my hand. “I wish you luck.”
He smiles and extends his hand. I use my friendly, confident handshake. The one that says, “Hey we’re still friends, no worries.”
We’re not, for the record.
“Thanks for understanding, Carm.”
“You gotta do what you think is best for you.” Think being the operative word in that sentence. “I’m here should you need me—and actually, hold up a second.”
You’re about to witness why I’m better than any other agent in New York City.
I leave Kevin at the conference room door and approach Justin. “Pass me the market analysis on Kevin’s place.”
He picks it up off the corner of his desk. “Is he ready to sign? I have the paperwork ready to go.”
I rip up the contract I had written up. “Nah, he’s going FSBO.”
Justin’s face distorts into a what-the-fuck expression. I smile, wink, then walk back to the conference room.
“Here.” I hand the papers to him.
Kevin thumbs through them and looks at me in disbelief. This will ensure that when his “sell my own place” experiment is over, he’ll still come back to me. I’m not arrogant enough to think someone else couldn’t steal him from me with a lower commission rate. “Thanks, Carm. Sorry you went to all that work for nothing.”
He’s second-guessing his decision right now, so I’m going to fuck with his head. I slap him on the shoulder. “No big deal. Who knows, maybe it’ll sell by tomorrow.”
It won’t.
We both chuckle.
