Brian Podnos is a residential and commercial sales associate at Ben & Company. While the toll the mortgage meltdown and subsequent economic implosion have had on the real estate market has been reported, The Real Deal offers an individual’s perspective through Podnos’ impressionistic take on the crises — with some gallows humor, which may be the only way to view employment in real estate today.
9:00 a.m. My day begins.
I step out of my New York City apartment. It’s a beautiful morning. Birds are singing and the sun is shining as the markets plummet and lenders decide not to lend. Too bad the weather doesn’t pay the bills.
When I get to my office, it is stiflingly hot because the air conditioning is broken. They are developing a new condo next door, so the office reverberates like a big jackhammer. The bathroom on the floor above me is leaking on my desk. I wonder if someone else will eat my sandwich today.
First, I check my e-mail. There’s usually at least one deal that has fallen through. Here’s a typical example:
Dear Brian, Thanks for all your help and the hours
you spent providing us with excellent service. Instead of finding a place to live, we’ve decided to become traveling circus performers. My husband will be the elephant trainer, and I will be the bearded lady. Thanks for your weeks of hard work!
I stare at e-mails like this until my eyes bleed. After that, I go to the bathroom and cry a little.
10:00 a.m. Coffee.
Which of the 14 Starbucks locations on my block should I go to?
10:30 a.m. Work the phones.
I’m a man of many talents. I do commercial real estate, residential sales and residential rentals.
There are many calls to make over the next few hours. First, I call the residential clients; every day, new clients inquire about the buildings that we exclusively broker.
Although the number of inquiries has dropped off recently, we still get a trickle.
Here is something that hasn’t changed much since the crisis: People still think that they can live in a penthouse for a penny. The magnitude of the pickiness in rental shoppers is astounding. But still, I’m a professional and make the calls: “Mr. So-and-So, is there any way I can spend hours finding you an incredible apartment so you can back out at the last second because you didn’t care for the doorman’s shoes?”
Then there’s the commercial side of the phone. I have a big blue book with a list of all the building owners in the area. I make calls to find out who is selling, who is buying and how I can match them up. This used to be fun (not really) when it led to something productive. Today, it’s a different story. Sellers don’t realize it’s not 2005, while buyers have decided to cryogenically freeze themselves like Walt Disney. Most of the time I’m so used to getting hung up on by the secretary that I’m completely caught off guard when I’m able to connect to the actual principal:
“Are you the owner?”
“Yes, what do you want?”
“Really? You’re the owner?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little taken aback.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What!?”
And even when I remember to ask the respondent if they are selling or buying, I’m always thrown off if they are. I tend to forget to ask for important information, like, how much do they want? What’s the status of the tenants? Can they deliver the building vacant? My conversations will go like this:
“Are you taking offers?”
“Yes.”
“Great! Thanks!” Click. “Wait, oh no! Damn!”
1:00 p.m. Lunch.
Since when does a slice of pizza cost five bucks?
2:00 p.m. More coffee.
I think I’ll go to Starbucks number six.
2:30 p.m. Time to make deals.
But first I check Google News, CNN and the Drudge Report. Is it just me, or does seeing the headline “Dow drops triple digits” every single day lose its punch after a while? No time to ponder this; I have to check my personal e-mail. I might have a new friend on Facebook, or my father may have sent me a dirty but humorous e-mail.
3:30 p.m. Time to really make deals.
It’s time to do some real work now, especially since the principal of my company is wondering why I’ve been surfing the Web for the past hour.
The afternoon is usually the easiest time of the day to deal with people on the phone. They are happier, and generally satisfied from a filling lunch. They relax, knowing that the end of the day is nearing. I, on the other hand, become more frantic. Too much coffee.
“HELLO! ARE YOU TAKING OFFERS?!”
“Can you stop screaming, sir?”
“Sure, is this better?
“Yes. What do you want?”
“Are you taking OFFERS?!”
“You’re screaming again.”
4:00 p.m. Deal-making ends.
Certain months (feels like years ago) provide you with a surplus of money, so much that you don’t know what to do with it. I gamble, drink or spend my money in other ludicrous manners. One time, I hired a skywriter to spell out: “This cost me $5,000.” I don’t know why.
Now I have no money, because no deals are being made. Times are rough. The important thing is to keep on living. In the movie “The Dark Knight,” I learned that the darkest part of the night is just before the dawn. And when dawn comes, you burn off half your face and go on a manic-spurred killing spree using nothing but a coin. That’s why I like to sleep during the darkest part of the night. If it happens to be on a park bench next to my new hobo friend, so be it.
6:00 p.m. The end of the day.
The day has been long. Someone ate my sandwich again. My desk has a bucket on it filled with bathroom water. Why am I coming back tomorrow? I ask myself. Then I remember, at some point in the future, this all will turn around.