Before We Get to the Closing Table
Some of the most important work I do is not found in contracts or spreadsheets. It is found in conversations.
Early in my real estate career, I was hosting an open house when an acquaintance from my son's school came rushing through the front door.
She was frustrated.
She and her husband were in the process of selling their home, and they had just received their final settlement statement. The amount they needed to bring to closing was roughly $10,000 more than they had expected because a seller concession had not been reflected in the earlier estimates they had been given.
I was not their Realtor.
I was not involved in the transaction.
But I watched what that surprise did to them.
It was not just about the money. It was the realization that what they believed was going to happen was not what was actually happening.
I remember thinking that if I ever had clients of my own, I never wanted them to experience that feeling.
Years later, she and her family would become clients of mine, but that lesson stayed with me long before that happened.
Not long afterward, I found myself facing a very different situation.
One of my early clients was someone I had known for nearly ten years through a previous career. He was not just another seller. He was someone I respected and someone I genuinely wanted to do right by.
He was also very private when it came to his finances.
At that point in my career, I was inexperienced enough that I was hesitant to ask detailed questions about what he owed on the property. I did not want to pry, so I relied on the information I had and kept moving forward.
When the settlement statement arrived, I looked at the bottom line.
His proceeds were about $75.
My stomach dropped.
Before I ever spoke to my client, I had already started trying to solve a problem that did not exist.
After everything we had done to prepare the property, market it, negotiate the contract, and make it all the way to closing, I was convinced I had let him down.
I wondered what I could have done differently.
I even found myself thinking about whether I should reduce—or completely give up—my commission because I believed I had failed someone who had trusted me.
Before I convinced myself there was a problem, I asked him one simple question.
"What are you expecting to walk away with when this closes?"
He did not hesitate.
"Honestly, I'm just hoping I don't have to bring more than a thousand dollars to closing."
Everything changed.
Years earlier, he had purchased the property near the height of the housing market. When the market declined, his neighborhood was hit especially hard, and for years the home was worth less than what he owed.
Every time he thought about selling, the numbers simply did not work.
By the time we listed the property, making money was not his goal anymore.
He simply wanted to move on without writing a large check at closing.
The $75 I thought represented failure represented something entirely different to him.
It represented freedom.
Those two experiences happened early in my career, but they have stayed with me ever since.
Today, when I am preparing an estimated settlement statement or calculating what an offer is likely to look like, I slow down.
I check the numbers.
Then I check them again.
Then I ask one more question.
I remind my clients that an estimate is exactly what it says it is—an estimate. We talk through payoffs, concessions, repair credits, and anything else that could affect the final numbers. If something does not look right, I would much rather discover it together long before we reach the closing table.
I have also learned not to assume I know what success looks like.
For one seller, success might mean getting every dollar possible.
For another, it might mean selling quickly.
For someone who has spent years waiting for the market to recover, success might simply mean finally being able to move on.
Looking back, neither of those experiences was really about settlement statements.
They were about conversations.
One family experienced an unpleasant surprise because expectations were not fully understood before closing.
I almost convinced myself I had failed a client because I assumed I already knew how he felt instead of asking one simple question.
Those experiences taught me that one more conversation is almost always worth having.
That is why I ask questions.
That is why I review estimates carefully.
That is why I slow down before we get to the closing table.
Because some of the most important work I do is not found in contracts or spreadsheets.
It is found in conversations.
