“Shoot the elephant in the room before he breaks all the furniture?” Yes, because even if we don’t always do well by doing good, we must always do the right thing — even when no one else is watching.

by Greg Swann

Suburban Phoenix Real Estate Broker

Author website

I had a house close yesterday, and there was a little incident as I was trading keys with the buyers that I found instructive.

Back story: These folks came to me through my Arizona Republic column. That column produces almost no business for us, and I don’t milk it for business. But the clients it brings out are invariably very interesting, and they often bring with them multiple transactions. This particular family will do two listings and one purchase, and it was the purchase that closed yesterday.

They had started out thinking in terms of $800,000 homes in very tony desert locations. There are health issues, so I suggested that a smaller home closer to town might work better. We ended up buying a very nice home that comped for $425,000.

They were willing to risk losing the home in order to make sure they weren’t overpaying, so we offered $335,000 — $90,000 under two recent comp sales. We got that price, and the seller didn’t flinch at our repair requests. A fun, painless transaction, my kind of deal.

But wait. Didn’t I betray my sacred duty to milk the consumer for every last penny? I talked myself out of a commission on $800,000, then talked myself down again to a commission on $335,000. I don’t even think that way. I got a smokin’ deal for my buyers, and we all had fun every step of the way.

Because we’re doing multiple sides, we gave them a break on all three commissions. They didn’t ask, we just did it. Commission is always the elephant in the room, so, no matter what we plan to do, we always raise the issue first.

Why? Because doing the right thing is always the right thing to do, no matter what.

But also: Because affecting to ignore the elephant in the room only serves to make you look oily, evasive and corrupt — and the other party can use your presumptive corruption as leverage against you.

I believe that we do well by doing good — that consistent virtue reaps commensurate rewards in the long run. But even if we don’t, doing the right thing is always the right thing to do, no matter what.

This is the language I wrote in the Buyer Broker Agreement — to protect the buyers’ interests:

Sales commission will be paid to Buyer’s Broker as follows: Two-thirds of co-brokerage fee, up to 3% of Full Purchase Price, exclusive of any bonuses. One-third of co-brokerage fee plus 100% of any bonuses plus 100% of all co-brokerage fees in excess of 3% of Full Purchase Price will be refunded to Buyer at Close of Escrow. In no event will compensation to Buyer’s Broker exceed 2% of Full Purchase Price, with any other commissions or bonuses to be credited to Buyer.

That’s mind-numbingly redundant, but it’s completely unambiguous, which is the point of writing things that way.

Here’s the cool part: This home offered a 4% co-broke. We don’t ever take bonuses, and we had explained that in our first interview, as a part of our discussion about commissions. I had pointed out the bonus commission when we were looking at the house, both as a matter of disclosure and as a potential incentive to the buyer: Instead of one point from us, you’ll be getting two points on this house.

But they had forgotten every bit of that. Last night when I was taking my leave from the home, Mr. Buyer shook my hand and said, “I wanted to thank you for getting that extra money for us.” Simple enough, and I hadn’t thought twice about it. But the look in his eyes was startling, not just gratitude but something close to wonder. What he was really saying to me, I think, was something like this: “You could have cheated us and we would have been none the wiser.”

And that’s probably true. The language of the contract is painfully plain, but only high-C’s read contracts. They might have gone through the rest of their lives with nagging doubts about my integrity, but it’s completely plausible that they never would have figured it out, had I stolen half the commission I had promised to concede to them. They were only expecting a point, so if they only got a point, they might never have raised a fuss.

But that is why we must always be scrupulously honest, no matter what. If I know there’s an elephant in the room, I can do what I can to shoot it down. But, if by my own shady behavior, I invite elephants into the room, I am not just destroying my relationship with a nice family, I am wreaking permanent devastation on my own integrity, I am destroying myself from the inside out.

I like to watch people when they don’t know I’m watching, just to see them, just to see what they do. We say that your true character is who you are when you think no one is watching you. But the actual, ontological fact of human life is this: Evil is never unwitnessed. Even if no one else sees your evil act, even if no one else ever discovers it, you know what you have done. Your own knowledge of your own corruption — your own constant struggle to portray a virtue you know without doubt that you have betrayed — will eat you up from the inside out.

This is all completely obvious to everyone, and my peculiar gift to humanity is to raise the topics almost no one wants to talk — or even think — about. But if Realtors are ever to rise above our awful reputation, it will be my means of the kind of radical, pre-emptive transparency that leaves no possible room for doubt, in our clients’ minds, about our fundamental integrity.

Do you want to build relationships based on enduring trust? Shoot every elephant in the room, even the ones no one else has even noticed yet.

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