That’s a musical instrument announcing something you didn’t necessarily ask for, but also didn’t NOT ask for, so we’ll take it!
It’s called A Day in the Life of a Realtor When The World Is Basically Bananas and here’s how it goes:
1. Wake up, check roots. I’ve been bleaching my hair since high school so surely I have some gray hairs, but I’ve never seen them so I’m really trying to take this time to get to know them.
2. Check email. Check Facebook. Lots o’ Realtors posting lots o’ reminders that they are HERE FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.
And now.
AND NOW.
Lookin’ a lil’ thirsty … but seriously guys, *leans in, lowers voice*, I am 100 percent here for you.
XOXO,
Nikki
3. Get an email from a client that wants to see a house at 5 p.m. He’s like, “Are you even allowed to show houses?” And I’m like, “YES, but, we can’t like, slow dance.”
Not a deal breaker, so we’re in.
4. Set appointment. Run comps. Print everything from my home office-slash-kitchen table.
5. Clip it together with a logo-ed pen that’s also a leave-behind. (MARKETING!)
6. Pack up the OH CRAP IT’S CORONA KIT: Disposable gloves, hand sanitizer, sanitizing wipes and a mask? No mask? Split the diff? Half a mask? On the one hand you don’t want to look like an overly dramatic goober, but on the other you sure do want to live…
Hmmmmm… what to do, what to do…
7. Gas up the car with that cheap gas. Toot toot!
8. At the showing it’s a glove fest and the name of the game is touch nothing and breathe sparingly. Get in, take a look, and GET OUT.
9. Talking to your client after, all you hear in your head is SIX FEET. SIX FEET.
Heaven forbid they want to show you something on their phone because again, I’m sure they’re fine and you’re fine and we’re all fine, but let’s not pretend like you’re not going to soak your armpits just thinking about it.
10. Wrap up the chit chat, hop in your car and head home. At that moment, you realize this is your five minutes of freedom.
I mean, you can’t really go anywhere or do anything, but it’s pretty liberating to just be outside of your house, in your own car, NOT hearing your husband or kid or pet or plant make that ONE SOUND for a just a few hours.
And honestly, driving down a non-trafficked North Central Expressway never felt quite so glorious.
