Geneva Lakefront Realty Office

Last night, after watching a show that promised me I would see a man be eaten alive by a giant snake, I couldn’t sleep. Not because I was upset about watching a man be eaten alive by a giant snake, and not because I was upset that the man actually just got his arm a bit hurt so he tapped out, before the snake could eat him. I couldn’t sleep because I just don’t sleep all that well anymore. So I aided my sleep problem by grabbing my phone from the night stand and flipping through the pictures that I had previously taken. Most were from the last year, because my old iPhone had a nasty tendency to make me delete eight old photos before allowing me to take one more. The photos on my phone are just as you’d expect them to be- pictures of the lake, of boats, of fish, of kids, of houses, of views, and most recently, of a giant 16′ Christmas tree that I felled and erected in my living room. This is my life, and it’s obvious and predictable, if not glamorous when viewed through the selective memory of a previously crowded hard drive.

About this time last year, the first photos of what would become my new office appeared. The hole was dug, the foundation poured, the walls built. Then, a couple months went by, with only walls built, to allow for the polar vortex to make its way through the Midwest. When construction resumed, it resumed at a slow pace. When the time was right, I pulled the wires through the building and ran PVC chases where I figured I’d someday need electronics to have their wires hidden. Around this time, the battles began, those between me and my father. In case you forgot my office structure, I sell 99.999999999% of the real estate here, but my 70 year old father is most technically the broker of the company. This was also dirt that he owned, so by default this was and still is, his building. But since I’m the one who meets customers and attempts to entertain clients here, the space would need to be something that I found suitable. You may find this hard to believe, but the definition of suitable varies wildly within the minds of 36 year olds and 70 year olds.

Where I wanted hardwood there was a desire for carpet. Where I wanted trim there was a desire for drywall. Where I wanted fancy there was a demand for dull. Where I wanted shingles there was a desire for shingles, sure, but rough and tumble ones, the sort that pioneers would clad the non-street-side of their barns with. There was a battle. It’s been said that children whose parents survived the depression tend to grow up to be financially conservative. I would argue that instead of behaving as that now-grown child of a depression era family, my father lives his life as though he is a present day orphan child, still living in the depression. His financial conservatism knows no limitations, and when it came time to put a sink in the office, where I had intended for a small coffee area to be, the sink that showed up was a drop in stainless steel sink- with the faucet still attached- that he had snagged out of someone else’s garbage at some point in the last 20 years. Echoes of 1933.

But the battle waged on, and when it came time to make selections for finishes, I had no choice but to fight for something better. After all, lest everyone forget, I’ve been extremely blessed to have sold $100MM worth of real estate over the past 5 years, and my customers and clients tend to be discerning, stylish, and of a very high caliber. So the work continued, slowly and without much method. The office was to be done in April, maybe May, but by June it was unfinished and July found it the same. August it was sort of more finished and by September it was kind of done. I moved in late in that month, and have now been plunking at this keyboard in this new office for the better part of 10 weeks. The battle is not over, but a momentary truce has been called.

There is no sign here yet, but if you miss the new, shingled building at 57 West Geneva Street in Williams Bay, that’s only because you’re not paying attention. This new office is across the street from the Mobile station, one building to the lakeside of the Library, and three doors West of the Frosty Moose. My old office has become an Edward Jones office. Now you have the triangulation of my location, and I do hope that you’ll stop in once in a while to say hello. Office hours are whenever I’m here, which is usually in the morning and then again in the middle of the day, and then again later in the day. To write OPEN 7:45-10:15, CLOSED 10:15 to 11:30, OPEN 11:30 to 1, CLOSED 1-1:30, OPEN 1:30 to 2:18, CLOSED 2:18 to 4, OPEN 4- 4:45, CLOSED 4:45 to 5:30, OPEN 5:30 to 5:34 that would have been a really annoying sign, and far too expensive.

The key to this new office is that it now must increase my efficiency, which may increase my productivity. The productivity seems to be maxed out at the moment, but the efficiency could use some work. So, for now, I hope you’ll stop in to say hello. We may get a coffee maker someday, but I’m going to need to sell another house first…