Day Thirty-One. I will OWN the World.

Mr. Black stood at my desk today and said "In six-months I am going to OWN the world." BA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

He's serious. Seriously insane but serious.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Twenty-Four. The Intern.

The intern stopped by my desk and tells me that he's working with another agent in our office on the next next million dollar idea, I ask him what that idea is and he said he didn't remember he has to call the agent. Priceless. 

Oy.To.The.Vey. 

Oh and still no heat - a full week. NICE!!!

Days Sixteen through Twenty. A Very Angry Desk Jockey.

Anger, it could be my middle name. I can't believe I am back to being the Angry girl. I am trying so hard to shed my scales of angry, but nothing is working. To think that I I went through years of therapy, ton of self-help homework to be back in the same fucking boat - an angry mother fucker.  I am angry that I have to work, angry that I choose this job instead of the other one, and angry that the people I work with are just mother fuckers.  For the last few weeks I've been nothing but angry and mean, it's not a fun way to be, and I am not an ugly person, being angry and mean makes you ugly.

This what I've dealt within the past week:

• The other desk jockey works part-time, but she doesn't drive in the snow so she hasn't been here in two weeks, you're 42 to years old, you've lived in this area - a four seasons area that gets hit by snow every winter and you don't drive in it...strap on some balls and get over it.
• One agent is so fucking mean, every time she speaks fire spits out of her mouth, this is the same bitch that brought me her dead mothers clothes. Which were all 1XL's, stretch pants and bedazzled up the fucking ying yang. She can lick my asshole.
• Mr. Black is as clueless as a sorority girl at her final exams.
• Intern boy came to worked stoned, again. I don't blame him he's not getting paid.
• Mr. Khaki is pissed that someone edited his marketing letter, well when it reads like my first grader wrote it, it needs to be edited.

I am going to try hard this week to not to be so mean, angry and ugly.

Wish me luck.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Fifteen. Pigs. Entitled Pigs.

Let me ask you a question: When you finish a bag of pretzels, or slam down a soda, or eat a package of cookies, what do you do with the wrapper? Do you put it in the trash? Yes, right? Your answer is yes, right? Right? Because you're a normal fucking person -the people I work with leave their garbage, the empty wrappers, the used coffee cups, the left over sugar packets, the half-eaten bag of cookies all on the counter in the employee kitchen- as if the trash, the receptacle, the garbage can is over 5 miles away and they just can't make the trek because they couldn't possibly walk all that way – they’d risk busting a heel on their Louboutins or the stick that is shoved up so far up their asses that it's coming out their nose may just fall out, imagine that? I don’t mind do a little light cleaning, a spritz of fantastic here, and a sweep there but people I am not your maid, common courtesy douche bags.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Twelve. A New Woman

I had a day off and I I feel like a new woman, I actually do not hate work so much today, I'm nicer to myself and to my co-workers. I need to do this more often!!!

Day Ten. I'm Alive.

I made it two weeks. I have officially been working for two weeks and I can't believe I am alive. I feel like I've been chewed up and spit out, times 10!  I have NEVER in my life experienced a business like Real Estate. It's a interesting industry that's for damn sure.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day 9. Meet Mr. Olive Green.

The Real Estate industry is certainly not a career where you graduate college and say "I want to be a Real Estate Agent!”, the industry is comprised mostly of women who are empty nesters and need something to occupy their time; kids flew the coop, and it's time for Mama to get back to work. It's a very hard business, and to tell you the truth there is  not much I like about it.  It's sales, and if you know sales, you know that either your're a hustler or you're not. 

Enter Mr. Olive Green. Mr. Olive Green is 66, stylish, extremely intelligent, dates a 32 year old gal, acts way too young for his age, and is a character.  He tells dirty jokes as often as he can, he hits on almost everyone, has absolutely no filter, speaks French, Italian, Persian, Hebrew, and Spanish and calls me a "Ho'" about ten times a day. Some days I care, other days I don't. I do know that he's not your average Real Estate Agent, and is very close to a sexual harassment law suit if he messes with the wrong broad. Time will tell. This could get ulgy.

Oy.To.The.Vey.

Day Eight. It's a Give and Take, or Take, or TAKE

One of the agents asked me if I could help photoshop a graphic design for her son's Bat Mitzvah.  The designed would be printed on sweatshirts as a favor.  This is the kind of project that I often get asked to do, they are "off the record" but I don't mind especially if I can do it, it's fun and breaks-up-the-day.  However, with this project,  I couldn't help, we don't have photoshop and all the other crappy applications just couldn't do the job.  Yesterday, I was in a nice mood, I told the agent that I have a cousin who was a graphic artist, maybe he could help. I sent my cousin an email with the graphic, asking for some assistance and in two minutes I got a reply back, and the edits to the image. This is where it get's fun! Instead of thanking me, or my cousin, the agent asked for more edits.  I sent them to my cousin under the guise of "if you can't I understand, it's not problem, I realize you are busy", reply from cousin "I will see what I can do, I'll send this to you tomorrow". Today, I got into work, opened email and bam image is there from my cousin with the requested edits. I sent redesign to the agent, and a email came firing back with more edits, more wants, and not one thank you.  I couldn't believe the gall, and the entitlement.  Perhaps I was wrong and should of just left it alone, that I couldn't help nor that I knew anyone that could.  I have to say I do understand that free is free, and free is for me, and that you want what you want, especially for a huge celebration in one's life but to keep asking without a thank you in sight, is just not how I was raised. Lesson learned - do not offer up any services beyond your control.

Oy. To. The.Vey.

Day Seven. Disgruntled Desk Jockey....Who Me?

After reading over my posts for the last several days, one would say that I am miserable disgruntled person, and it's true, I am. But only at work. This place for some reason brings out the ANGRY in me. It's not that the work is challenging - because it's not, a monkey can do my job, or my three year old or that I am working 90 hours a week, or that the people are evil: some definitly do not have manners, some are entitled, some of them don't have an elevator that goes to the top, some expect me to run as fast as I can when they call, and some, well, are actually lovely. My main gripe is that there is not one process or procedure in this place, each thing I do I recreate the wheel, no one shares information, and there is not one bit of operational management AT ALL. It's a small company, but it generates as least 20M in revenue, we can afford to put some systems in place.  I can't tell you how much this annoys me. I'm a Virgo. I like order. I like organization. I LOVE systems.  There is not ONE system in place, and if I try to put one in place I am told it's too expensive, and everyone is resistant. I mean, I hate change too, but c'mon, people, let's get some order in the world.

Oy.To.The.Vey. 

Day Six. Pole Dancing & Real Estate - A GREAT Combo!

Mr. Black I am told is a marketing genius, yes a genius.  Imagine I’m working for a marketing genius! Amazing, not sure how I got so lucky but nevertheless, I was told today that his ideas are like none other in the Real Estate industry – that he is a trail blazer, a leader, a luxury real estate marketing guru. My interested got peaked, I asked this source to elaborate, I got nothing, all I was told that he throws elaborate parties,  is able to barter services (not quite sure how you barter Real Estate services, that is still being determined) as if we lived in the 1800’s and his marketing tactics are like, really superior. Superior? Really?  I hate to be so jaded, but like the rest of population that went back to work at dead-end jobs to get a little cash, to be close to home so they won’t have as much guilt raising their children, while striving to become a published writer I am skeptical.   I actually worked for a marketing genius in a product development department of world-renown Fortune 500 Company, and let me tell you something Mr. Black doesn’t strike me as a marketing genius; he’s smart, he’s absolutely a very smart man who knows the business but the verdict is still out on the genius part. As much as I love to be right, I also don’t mind being wrong, so if I am indeed wrong and this man is actually a marketing genius than good for him.

Nevertheless, this conversation came up because Mr. Black is hosting a Broker Open House- as a cocktail party, definitely a different approach because Broker Open Houses are generally during the day and during the week, they are usually a “preview” of the home for all the Brokers in the area or that may have clients interested in the particular property – this is usually done before the home is open to the public. This Cocktail Party Broker Open House is for a $2.6 M mansion and will showcase the most significant part of home – the disco - the homeowner cut a hole in the middle of the living room and put in a full disco in the basement, the hole is so you can see the disco from the upper level, to view the the “Ultimate Bachelor Pad” – “Entertainers Delight”.  The disco has a bar, a stripper pole (but of course), two bathrooms, a wine cellar, a chandelier that is remote, and acts as a cage so you can have dancing girls dropped from the ceiling. Cool idea? Perhaps, but what happens now when you want to sell that $2.6 M disco in the middle of waspy uber class suburban neighborhood? Ummm… if you’re  Mr. Black you stage a Cocktail party for all the Brokers in the luxury market and you put girls on the strippers poles, and half naked hoochie mama’s dropping from a chandelier cage. And this is called genius.  I’d say it’s a bit tackier than genius? What do you think?  

Oy. To. The.Vey.

Day Five. Blue vs. White

Today Mrs. Violet and some of the other agents were discussing the local neighborhoods – because one of their clients was looking to move. Someone suggested my neighborhood - the schools are well regarded and the area is very nice, before I could even chime in, give my two cents Mrs. Violet shoots back faster than Michael Phelps “That’s blue-collar”. UMMM. Know your fricking audience, whether it’s blue collar or not…have some respect!!! HELLO!!!!

Oy. To.The.Vey.

Day One.

I made coffee, lots of coffee, answered the phones that insanely rang off the hook all day long. Oh and I met a lot of women.   A LOT OF WOMEN.

This is job is like nothing I’ve ever done before, like nothing I have E.V.E.R experienced before– and it’s not because the job is beneath me, there is nothing I won’t do (okay maybe a few things) but with this job it’s the people that make it bizarro world. I worked with lawyers and even these people, these Real Estate Agents, ummmm, Sharks, they’re something else.