Dear Friend and Kind Reader,
Belated blessings for a sweet and healthy New Year.
Something shifted in my life recently. And I wanted to share it with you.
When I launched my business and branded myself “Rosey,” I was convinced real estate was about self-promotion. Get my name out, the phone would ring. Money would follow.
I was wrong. And it took me a while to get it since, for me, self-promotion comes as naturally as breathing. (In fact, celebrating this knack, The New York Times once dubbed me “Captain Chutzpah. In fact you can watch a video about that on You Tube!)
What I eventually grokked is that my success—and my satisfaction—doesn’t depend on chutzpah, but on caring. And on relationships.
I understood that my value as a Realtor has less to do with brokering transactions than it does with shepherding people through life’s transitions.
Over the summer, nearly every conversation I had with a client or prospect seemed to confirm my growing awareness:
A woman living on the coast hoping that a move to the valley’s dryer climate might cure her mold-caused illness. A man caring for a cancer-stricken mate confiding how he might, sooner than he ever expected, be interested in down-sizing. A couple who bought at the top of the market describing feeling trapped because they owe more than their home is worth. A woman, newly separated, planning a fresh start for her and her dogs. And, because this is Ashland, countless couples discussing how they might realize their dreams of retirement.
I understood too that all deals, even ones seemingly devoid of emotional import, are big deals, simply because of how much money’s at stake. So merely by being diligent, communicating clearly and covering their backs, I could help my clients sleep soundly during a process that can be frightening and fraught with frustration.
Okay, so now that I’d re-framed my role, how could I convert my understanding into business, and connect with more people who would benefit from my help?
That’s where you come in.
At the start, I’d known that 90 percent of a broker’s business comes from former clients and referrals. That’s why I asked everyone I knew for referrals.
Not much came of it. Because I was asking the wrong question. It wasn’t until I saw transactions in the context of transitions, and my role as shepherd, not salesman, that I knew what to ask:
“Would you feel comfortable introducing the people you care about to me who need my help?”
Assuming your answer is “Yes,” I’m going to ask you to do something else for me:
The next time someone you care about expresses an interest in selling their home—or buying a new one—would you please take out your phone and call me immediately, so we can talk about how you can introduce them to me? If you don’t already have my number in your phone, it’s 541-778-9049.
By the way, as you may deduce from my belated Happy New Year wishes, I’ve been wrestling with this letter for weeks, since just after Rosh Hashanah. I was concerned someone might conclude, “Same old Rosey, there he goes, selling himself again.”
And, the truth is, they’d be right. That is what I’m doing. Asking you to “play matchmaker” is at the heart of my marketing strategy. But what is also true—and I trust you know this—is that I’m speaking from my heart.
Thank you.
Love and Shalom,
Rosey
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