Sonia came to us from our web site in mid-April, 2005. Young, unmarried, working very diligently at a job that should have paid better than it did. She was pre-qualified at $115,000, which was a very hard number to hit at that time and would be virtually impossible by now. We were just getting to the real fever of the housing boom, with houses at that end of the price range evaporating in hours. What she wanted was something fairly close to her job in North Central Phoenix. Multi-family was okay, but, obviously, safety was a concern.
This is my kind of problem. We love those $700,000 buyers, where the commission check is the size of a brand-new mid-size sedan. But that’s show-horse job, and it’s the work-horse tasks that put a Realtor to the test. One of the things that I think earns loyalty and respect from my clients is that I deliver the goods. If we’re having trouble finding what we want, I will work the MLS like a Rubik’s Cube until I squeeze the right houses out of it.
This is what we did, me and Sonia and Cathy. I would pump out new results, Sonia would drive by the properties on her way to or from work, then Cathy or I would go with her to look at the least objectionable ones. Nothing was easy. North Central Phoenix is the land of the vanishing middle class, and the neighborhoods that aren’t crawling with millionaires are crawling with things you need a special license to talk about.
Eventually we got very lucky, though. A home turned up in the Phoenix Townhouses, a very nice town-home community in the center of town. The home was underpriced, but we saw why when we got there: One owner in twenty years, zero remodels. Everyone wants a bargain, but no one wants what a bargain implies: Less-than-perfect condition. But Sonia had seen a lot of dumps by then, so she could see the value beneath the ugly, old and very dirty decor.
We fast-talked our way into the house by paying a $500 premium — at Read more





Cameron is almost 15 by now. That’s him to the right — an astoundingly large specimen, considering that I used to hold him in the crook of my elbow.