Understanding Where People Are

Understanding Where People Are

Sometimes the most important part of a real estate transaction has nothing to do with real estate.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned in this business didn't come from a contract, a negotiation, or a home inspection. It came while sitting quietly in a pickup truck.

A client I'd known casually through our kids' school asked if I would help him settle his parents' estate. We weren't close friends, but we'd spent enough mornings waiting to pick up our kids and enough conversations at school events that there was already a level of comfort between us.

One morning we planned to drive out together and look at a vacant parcel of land that was part of the estate. It was about a forty-minute drive, and like most drives with clients, the conversation had very little to do with real estate.

As two Tucson natives, we talked about how much the city had changed over the years. The vacant land happened to be in an area where I'd lived growing up, so we traded stories about neighborhoods, businesses that no longer existed, and memories that only longtime Tucsonans would appreciate.

The land itself was easy.

It had been purchased years earlier as an investment. There wasn't much emotion attached to it. We walked the property, talked about pricing, agreed on a strategy, and headed back toward town.

On the drive home my client said,

"We should probably stop by my parents' house too. We'll need to sell that one."

"Absolutely," I said. "If you're up for it, let's take a look."

As we drove through the neighborhood, the stories continued. He pointed out places he remembered growing up, talked about how different everything looked now, and shared a little about his childhood.

Then we pulled up in front of the house.

Everything changed.

The truck became completely still.

He shut off the engine, lowered his head, and stared quietly into his lap.

Neither of us moved.

After a couple of minutes I looked over and simply said,

"You know...we don't have to do this today. We can come back another time."

He nodded.

We started the truck back up and drove away.

As we drove home, neither of us said much. I remember thinking that selling the house probably wasn't going to be the difficult part. Helping my client work through what that house represented was going to require a little more patience.

Over the next week we focused on the vacant land instead. That was easy. It was simply an investment property. There were no childhood memories attached to it and no emotional weight every time we visited it.

Eventually we agreed it was time to go back to the house.

This time we made that our only objective for the day.

Walking through the property, it became clear the house needed significant repairs. My client talked about spending several more months cleaning it out before we could even think about putting it on the market.

Standing there, it occurred to me that cleaning out the house probably wasn't the hardest part.

Coming back to it over and over again might have been.

So I asked a different question.

"What if you only take the things that matter to you and your family? What if we leave the rest? An investor is likely going to renovate the property anyway."

Instead of spending months trying to make the house perfect, we changed the plan.

We offered it only to investors.

We received multiple offers, negotiated favorable terms, and found a buyer willing to purchase the property as it sat.

Could we have made more money by completely renovating the house?

Probably.

But that wasn't the only thing that mattered.

Removing months of emotional labor had value too.

Looking back, I don't remember exactly what the house sold for.

I don't remember how many offers we received.

What I remember is sitting quietly in that truck.

That afternoon reminded me that every client comes to me from a different place.

Some are excited about what's next.

Some are overwhelmed by everything that's happened.

Some are carrying memories that make even walking through a front door difficult.

My job isn't to decide where they should be.

My job is to understand where they are.

Once I understand that, I can help them understand their options so they can make the decision that's right for them.

Sometimes that means explaining contracts.

Sometimes it means negotiating the best possible terms.

And sometimes...

it's simply recognizing that the next step isn't walking through the front door.

It's sitting quietly together until they're ready.