I Own One Coat

Remember Jeff Goldblum’s character in Independence Day? You don’t have to admit that you do, but you do. That character was personally flawed; his marriage either in trouble or over, his father meddling, his appearance slightly disheveled. Yet, for all his apparent shortfalls, he was the guy who understand what was going on before everyone else did. He wasn’t exactly what everyone wanted, but he knew how to save them. This is important.

Last week, I went on a listing appointment. I wore what I always wear, with an elevated twist. This time, jeans were replaced with summer linens, a polo shirt was replaced with a button down variety, and my hair was at least somewhat molded and pushed into a shape that at least vaguely resembled a hair style from at least one historical era. I strode in with the confidence that tends to accompany me in most public settings, and when the hour or so was over I was content that I had secured another bit of business. My pitch included market knowledge, market statistics, personal knowledge and personal statistics. I laid out several anecdotal references to the lake, to my family, to my life. I offered what I knew and how I knew it and when it was done I skipped up the steps and drove off to the next appointment. The home was lakefront, nothing particularly noteworthy, but lakefront. As my business name suggests, lakefront isn’t only something, it’s everything.

Imagine my surprise over the weekend when that seller called to tell me they didn’t like me. They didn’t say, “David, we don’t like you”, but that’s the interpretation of any denial of business partnership. I was shocked, truthfully. Honestly, shocked. I may have been too direct with my pricing truths. I might not have oohed or aahed at the right time. I might not have done either, at all. I might have just toured a home that fits only into the very bottom of the entry level lakefront market and called it as I saw it. I might have failed to verbally pad egos, or I might have missed the seller’s internal price target. That, or I might not have worn a sport coat.

I own one sport coat. It is blue. It does not have gold buttons. I wear it only when absolutely required, which, so far, has been once. I look fine in it, but I don’t feel fine in it. I feel like I’m trying too hard. I feel like I’m asking someone to approve of my sport coat, and then, perhaps, if they have some approvals left over, consider the content of my speech. I am 35 years old today. I have many gray hairs to prove it, along with a crushed disc that more closely mirrors a pier bolt washer than a vibrant and cushiony element of my spine, and a moderating weight condition. I also have been so fortunate as to amass over $60MM in Lake Geneva vacation home sales over the past 36 months, and that, to me, means far more than anything else ever could. If I had a sport coat on and combed my hair with a 50s purpose, yet I didn’t have more than one or two lakefront sales to my recent pedigree, would I have had a better chance of walking away with that listing? Likely.

For today, a fair warning. I do not wear suits to work because I do not work in Manhattan. I also do not wear a nametag, nor do I have my picture on my business cards or the side of my car. I sell real estate because of the joy of selling real estate, and I work to achieve success based on what I know and how I say it, not based on the recent wax job on my car or the style of my haircut. I want to prove my worth to your transaction by what I know to be the truth of this market, not by the press on my pleated slacks. I am as informal as any broker ever has been, but the results are incomparable and the benefits that I can bring to any client’s transaction far outweigh the cut of my coat.

Now, I must move to magazine editing. The fourth issue of Summer Homes For City People prints Friday, and as with the prior three issues, you won’t find a picture of me in it, anywhere. Not of me in a suit with a gray photo backdrop behind me, not of me leaning up against giant letters that spell my name, and not of me pretending to talk on my phone while captaining some boat I borrowed. It’ll just be a magazine, filled with content about Lake Geneva and Lake Geneva only, and hopefully you like it. Look for it Memorial Day weekend everywhere cool things are found around Lake Geneva.

Photo by Matt Mason Photography