Paul's Scottsdale AZ Real Estate Chronicles

Is It a Good Time to Buy?

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 23 Feb 2024 08:00:11 -0800

Is it a good time to buy a house?If I had a donut for every time I have been asked this question over the past quarter century, my whole family tree would have diabetes.In the pantheon of real estate inquiries, it remains unrivaled. All other frequently asked questions flow from its headwaters. You never get to is this a good area, or how are the schools without first fielding the pre-requisite question that begets all others.No one cares about the specifics until satisfied that buying a home at this (or any) particular time is a good idea in general.Over the years, I’ve had different responses to that question based on current market forces, prognostications, etc. Sometimes it’s a no-brainer, like when the foreclosure and short sale market started to clear out on the back side of the great recession of the late aughts. It didn’t take much foresight to realize that prices had reached a nadir and were about to slingshot the other way.Indeed, over a decade of value gains catapulted those fortuitous buyers to equity piggy banks larger than even the most optimistic predictions could have anticipated.Similarly, there were clear signs in 2005-2006 that an impossibly hot market was bound to cool. Once again, it wasn’t too challenging to see a slowdown and potential value dip looming, even if the full scope of the crash was far beyond what anyone saw coming.Beyond those times where there are bright flashing warning signs, however, what I have learned more than anything in this business is that the prognostication game is a fool’s errand. Things change too rapidly, and factors too numerous to account for and predict tend to upend forecast models with alarming regularity.I have been expecting a dip in values since about 2018, convinced that price points have become unsustainable, particularly for entry level buyers. No entry level buyers means no move up buyers. And so on and so forth. It seemed the inexorable march of rising prices was fueled by artificially low interest rates. As soon as rates crept up in response to inflation, I just knew values would suffer as a result.And I was dead wrong.Sure, the market cooled when rates first shot up, and prices did see a modest dip. Not nearly as sharp of a decline as I expected, however, and it came much later than I expected.If you listened to me and sold in 2019, you likely lost out on some additional gain. If you purchased despite my warnings, you realized additional gain.Why didn’t it go the way I expected? Because homeowners that locked in 2.5-3% interest rates in the last five years are now refusing to move.Why would they?Those who would like to sell to upsize, downsize, move out of state, or whatever, will have to move somewhere. If they require financing to make the move, as many do, they can look forward to an interest rate that is, at minimum, double their current one.Kinda kills the vibe.Fewer sellers, means fewer options for today’s buyers. High demand and low supply has kept home prices high, despite affordability concerns.The point being that the market is always as likely to zig as it is to zag, because the thing you think is gonna be the thing, turns out not to be the thing at all.So when people come to me today, in 2024, asking if it’s a good time to buy, what do I tell them?I answer the question with two of my own: Are you financially able to purchase a house? Does the security of being a homeowner outweigh the freedom from attachment that renting offers? If you answer ‘yes’ to both of these questions, it’s a good time to buy a house. If you answer ‘no’ to either of them, it’s not.Stop listening to the talking heads with red faces and halitosis who shout their investment/financial strategies at you via cable TV. They don’t know you or your goals. If they want to watch the price of yak milk in southern Sri Lanka to determine whether the Swiss Franc will hold up to the deflationary pressure in the Argentinian gold bullion market, thus spiking land values in the least of the Lesser Antilles, creating a flood of American ex-pat migration, leading to a glut in the US housing supply that crashes the national median sales price by $5000, let them. Doesn’t mean you need to join them on that hamster wheel.Need a house? ✔️Can you afford to buy one? ✔️Want to put some roots down? ✔️Great.It’s a good time to buy. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

VRBOMGWTF

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Thu, 22 Feb 2024 07:19:40 -0800

“I’m sorry, but the CCRs are very clear,” Lucinda informed her young client. “Daily rentals are not allowed in this community.”Dimitry stroked his thin black goatee as he paced, agitated.“Fine,” he sniffed, his black horn-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose as he stopped abruptly in front of his agent. “I’ll rent it out weekly.”Lucinda looked up from the paperwork in her hands, taking in the Gen Z programmer anew. His white t-shirt depicted a red nuclear explosion under black lettering that read Ctrl-Alt-Del.Whatever body spray he had drenched himself in this morning, the unmistakable notes of Rockstar Energy Drink and curry assaulted her sinuses. She assumed the scent had a name like Alpha Disco Party or Purple Daze. She made a mental note to use a little more sage than she normally did when she smudged the room between appointments.“No weekly rentals either,” she answered, thrusting the paperwork at her aspiring buyer.Dimitry waved it off, opting to resume pacing instead of scrutinizing the document himself. His black and white checkerboard Vans squeaked on the vinyl imitation wood plank flooring with each sharp left turn.“Monthly then,” he conceded, throwing his skeletal palms up to the sky in exasperation.Lucinda just shook her head, her tight black curls dancing in the low light of the dual wall sconces centered on either side of her on the wall to her back. She detested her appearance under the overhead light of the ceiling fan directly above her head. The lighting had been the very first change she made upon taking occupancy of the corner office the previous year.On this day, as with most days, she had nearly the entire building to herself. In years past, senior agents would have bloodied each other for a shot at this particular private office. Most of her colleagues opted to work from home or coffee shops these days, however. She was unique in preferring the power of a formal business venue, and counted her lucky stars that the titanic shift towards home office culture had opened up opportunities to eager novices like herself. From her black on gold emblazoned nameplate on the door to the precise arrangement of the two high-back chairs situated opposite her mahogany desk for clients, every last detail had been painstakingly designed to portray the trappings of success she had not yet attained, and the authority she did not yet possess.The office served as her de facto closer until she became one herself.Dimitry was blind to it all, refusing Lucinda’s repeated invitations to sit. She was not in control of the dynamic, let alone the dialogue. She needed to break the momentum of this runaway train that was threatening to run away with her sale. She threw the papers in front of Dimitry on his next pass by the desk. Startled, he actually yelped, “Eek,” as he jumped away from the resulting thud of the heavy stack thumping the floor.“For the tenth time, Dimitry,” she hissed. “No.”“Semi annually,” he squeaked.“No.”“Yearly?”“No.”“Furnished?”“No.”“Unfurnished?”“No.”“Make it a timeshare?”“No.”“Can I rent out one bedroom and occupy the rest?”“No.”“Can I rent out the pool for private parties?”“No.”“Can I rent out the garage and charge event parking?”“No.”“Can I charge memberships to my home gym?”“No.”“Can I rent my coat closet to a fashion influencer?”“No.”“Can I rent the pantry to a culinary student?”“No.”“Can I have a roomate?”“Yes.”“A roommate that pays me rent?”“Dimitry, the covenants, codes, and restrictions make it crystal clear,” Lucinda replied. “No rentals of any kind allowed. Period. The end.”“That’s insane,” Dimitry exclaimed as he stepped over the papers and sank into one of the previously refused chairs. “It’s bad enough they expect me to pay three quarters of a million dollars for a starter home, but now they won’t let me recoup any of the cost? What kind of bullshit is that? Maybe I should just rent for another year and wait for this bubble to pop.”He looked utterly defeated.Lucinda could relate. She neglected to mention that she, herself, had a forty minute daily commute from the boonies because she couldn’t afford Scottsdale prices either. That commute wasn’t going to get any shorter if she couldn’t close more skiddish buyers like young Dimitry here, however.“Affordability is certainly an issue in this market,” Lucinda agreed, expanding with new confidence as Dimitry shrunk deeper into his chair. The conversation had moved to much more familiar terrain, and she was ready with her scripts.She straightened the gold REALTOR pin on her red blouse as she continued.“But the flip side of the coin is that current rental rates are even more ridiculous. You can either pay through the nose to the bank to own a place, or you can pay through the nose to a landlord and own nothing. I’d rather pay my own mortgage than someone else’s, personally.”“Yes, but I hear interest rates are going to come down and values are going to crash,” Dimitry countered.“Rates are expected to come down, yes,” Lucinda agreed. “But prices are actually expected to climb a bit in response. This same house might cost eight hundred thousand next year instead of seven.”“Insanity,” Dimitry repeated, checking the time on his pink iPhone 13 Pro. “I make good money, have seven fifty credit. If I can’t afford to live here, who can?”“Well, I suppose folks just have to cut back on some extravagances these days,” Lucinda offered. “Or they move back to Ohio.”Dimitry stiffened, pantomiming the sign of the cross despite having never set foot in a church in his adult life.“Low blow,” he whined, reaching for the papers on the floor with a heavy sigh. He scanned the document for what felt like an eternity to Lucinda in complete silence.And they say kids today can’t focus, she thought.Finally, Dimitry sat back in the chair. A wide Cheshire Cat’s grin rolled up his face as he held his agent’s stare.“It doesn’t say anything about lemonade stands,” he declared. “Gimme the fucking paperwork. Looks like I’m hitting Costco on my way home.” Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Local Agent Decries Falling Commission Rates

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Wed, 21 Feb 2024 09:28:20 -0800

Scottsdale, AZ Local Real Estate agent, "Big" Bob DuPree is fed up with his paycheck going down. Originally licensed in 1982, DuPree has seen just about everything there is to see in the Scottsdale Real Estate market. From the double digit inflation of the late 80s to the Great Recession of 2008-2009, he has managed to carve out a comfortable living in an ever-shifting industry. Until now, that is. The steady rise in home prices over the past decade, coupled with the explosion in Real Estate licensees, has resulted in downward pressure on commission rates."I used to charge seven percent to list a home, and people didn't bat an eye," DuPree lamented. "I didn't have to worry about my competitors undercutting my fee because we all charged the same amount. That was back when the NAR had a backbone, and before all of these bottom feeding newbies started grabbing their ankles and listing houses for free."Asked whether he felt the public was better served by an industry of yesteryear that was steeped in anti-trust practices, price-fixing, and collusion, DuPree responded, "Hogwash."DuPree contends that the level of professionalism in the housing industry has diminished in direct correlation to its growth. "You'd go to a cocktail party way back when and be the only agent there. People would want to talk to you. Ask how much their home was worth. Gossip about their neighbor's hideous remodeling. Now they treat me like a leper in a kissing booth. Everyone has a brother in law or cousin with a license as a side hustle. They charge a seller like five hundred bucks to list a house because it's more money than they have ever seen in their Whataburger paycheck."DuPree holds the new online world in the same contempt."Everything is available to everyone twenty four seven now," he said. "Everything. Times were a buyer had no idea what was for sale. The multiple listing service was a weekly pamphlet that only we agents received. John Q Public wanted to know what houses were for sale in Scottsdale? He couldn't go to Twiddledy Doo dot com to find out. He had to call me."Asked to clarify whether he viewed his value more as a service provider or as a hoarder of secret information, DuPree answered, "Yes."While several competing agents who did not want to go on record for this piece indicated that the Internet has added value to their businesses and made it easier to reach prospective clients, DuPree argues that the readily available information of today actually makes his job harder. He contends that the additional time and energy spent educating a demographic that isn't sold on his value in the first place is not worth the brain damage."They all want to play Realtor," he noted. "Like their fifteen minutes looking at bogus data trumps my forty two years in the business. And then they want to say they only need me to open a door or write the offer so they can jam me down on commission. Cut my fee for the pleasure of working for a goddamn knowitall? I don't think so, chief. That's not how Big Bob rolls."The owner of two Bentleys and a vacation home in La Jolla, DuPree insists his cause is just and in defense of the little guy getting crushed by a high inflation world. "All I'm saying is that you can't make a living on two and a half percent per sales side," DuPree added. "Hell, even three or three and a half is a stretch. Have you seen the price of milk? Gas? My paycheck keeps getting smaller while my bills keep getting bigger. Welcome to Joe Biden's America."When this reporter pointed out that home prices had effectively doubled over the last five years, leading to larger total commissions despite the lower average percentages being charged, DuPree was succinct."Fuck you, socialist." - Daryl Eckshund, REBIZ NEWS Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Emotional Support Carnivore

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Mon, 19 Feb 2024 19:25:56 -0800

“So this is what this place looks like,” Howard noted, scanning the posh party room with approval. “No wonder the waiting list to use it hasn’t gotten any shorter.”The event he had in mind was gonna be legendary, if he could ever get management approval to reserve it. It had occurred to him that he might have been blackballed, but he tried not to dwell on his intrusive thoughts. His therapist always preached the importance of challenging the negative voice inside his head whenever it sought to drag him back into the muck.“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Botkins,” an attractive blonde in a red blazer and miniskirt said, gesturing to a throng of empty chairs. “Please, have a seat.”“Thanks, but I think I’ll stand,” Howard declined. “Sitting for extended periods of time makes my sciatica flare up.”“Of course,” the blonde replied, sitting down next to a dour looking man in a rumpled suit and very bad toupee. He smelled like strawberry milk.The slight frown that appeared on April’s face was quickly replaced by a thousand watt smile. She wasn’t accustomed to being told no.“I’m sure you know why we asked you here today,” she resumed, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt, drawing attention to her bright red nails. “As the numerous letters and citations we have mailed and posted on your door can attest, you have been quite the topic of discussion amongst your neighbors and the staff here at Briarpatch.”“Quite,” the mothball sitting next to her added.Howard turned to face him.‘I’m sorry, but you have me at a loss,” he said. “I remember April here from my initial tour and lease signing, but who are you exactly?”“Bartleby Jacobs, attorney at law,” the man croaked.“Mr. Jacobs is the in-house counsel for Briarpatch,” April clarified.“Is this about the music,” Howard asked. “Because I keep telling Stan downstairs that I only play classical to keep Steven company when I’m at work. I am always conscious of the volume. I never set it above three.”“It’s not about the music, Mr. Botkins, it’s about the … wait,” April started. “You are supposed to be the only resident in your unit.”“I am,” he confirmed.“Then who is Steven.” she demanded.“Oh, I didn't sneak a roommate in if that's what you are worried about," Howard clarified. "I take my responsibilities as a tenant very seriously. Steven is an emotional support tiger.”The room fell silent. April’s frozen smile seemed to hold too many teeth. Any moment now, Howard was sure that her jaw would unhinge and reveal row upon row of pearly whites waiting in reserve should any in the front line fall.“What,” he asked the apartment representatives with evident confusion. “I provided a doctor’s note when I moved in.”“D-did, you say t-t-tiger,” the attorney stuttered. He had mastered his childhood speech impediment long ago, but it still showed up from time to time in moments of extreme distress. His left eye began to twitch.“Oh relax, Steven wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Howard assured them, chuckling. “Do you really think they would let just any old tiger become an ESA? Anyway, sorry about the music. He gets antsy when I’m away. Rachmaninoff’s Isle of the Dead helps him relax.”“You can’t have a fucking tiger in an apartment, you psycho,” April exploded. Her chair shot into the wall behind her as she jumped to her feet.“Woah, woah, woah, now,” Howard shouted back, hands up to ward off her words. “What did you just call me? A person in my condition? Do you have any idea how offensive that is? My attorney is waiting outside. One call and I could own this place, but I will settle for an apology.”“Apologize, are you out of your fucking mind,” April screamed. The lawyer grabbed her by the wrist and shook his head once, silencing her.She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths.“I’m sorry I called you a psycho,” she said at last through clenched teeth. “We here at Briarpatch Luxury Apartments are an equal opportunity housing community committed to empathy, compassion, and inclusiveness for all.”The lawyer relaxed his palsied grip on her arm.“Apology accepted,” Howard sniffed.“Mr. Botkin,” April resumed. “With all due respect, we have a strict ‘no pet’ policy here at Briarpatch-““Steven isn’t a pet,” Howard interrupted. “He’s an emotional support animal, which by law, you must accommodate.”“Not if it violates both state and federal law, and puts our other tenants at risk,” April corrected. “The documents you provided with your lease indicated that you had an angel fish.”“Oh, Ariel.” Howarded lamented. “Yeah, she died.”“I’m sorry to hear that,” April said under the watchful eye of the attorney.“It’s okay,” Howard assured her. “We didn’t really click anyway. She was kind of judgy. I just didn’t think I needed to get permission to swap out a dead support animal for a new one. It wasn’t really top of mind while I was grieving the relationship I wanted, but never had with poor Ariel.”“Well, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if you got another fish, Mr. Botkins. Maybe even a bunny. But a tiger?”“Oh, I didn’t replace the fish with the tiger,” Howard chuckled. “Heavens, no. I’m a fish and reptile kinda guy. I only got Steven to help Pisces with his anxiety.”“Who is Pisces,” April inquired, regretting the question even as she asked it.“Pisces is my emotional support python,”April was again rendered speechless. Her nostrils flared in horror beneath her arctic blue eyes.“W-w-w-w-what k-k-k-ind of p-ython,” the lawyer stammered. “R-rosy? P-p-p-pigmy?”“Burmese,” Howard boasted. “He really is the sweetest lug. It gets expensive feeding him, but rest assured, the goats and pigs don’t stick around the apartment long. And the thumping that Stan loves to complain about is over well before he starts banging on his ceiling with that broom handle of his. Is this a bad time to file a formal harassment complaint?”“Trust me, I tried everything else,” Howard continued when he was met with silence. “Miniature donkey, baby hippopotamus, a very short giraffe … Pisces ate every last emotional support animal I brought home for him. I would have tried a salt water croc if I had a bigger tub. Steven was a last resort.”“Your emotional support animal can’t have an emotional support animal.” April managed. She felt as if she were breathing through a straw.Is Ashton Kutcher still punking people, she wondered. Is that still a thing?If that’s what was happening here, Bravo. Mr. Kutcher.“Well, my attorney says otherwise,” Howard retorted.Just then the double doors to the room burst open. A tall, dark figure in a three piece suit strode confidently towards them, his highly polished shoes echoing on the porcelain tile floor with each satisfying tap. He held a patent leather briefcase in one hand and a business card in the other.“Johnie Cockatoo, tenant’s rights advocate at your service,” he boomed in a deep baritone as he handed the card to April. She gave it a quick glance.The tagline read: If the snake don’t hiss, you must dismiss!She flipped it over.And if it don’t constrict, you can’t evict!“Cute,” she deadpanned as she passed the card to the slouched and twitching corporate attorney to her left.The new entrant placed his briefcase on an empty chair and opened it with two loud snaps. He withdrew a single page and handed it to April.“A letter from my client’s vet for his ESA’s anxiety.”“It is this herpetologist’s professional opinion that Pisces would benefit from an emotional support animal to help combat anxiety inherent in a 6 meter python bivittatus confined to an 800 square foot apartment,” April read aloud.“Sure,” She added. “Why not?”“You can’t exactly prescribe a snake Xanax now, can you,” Cockatoo answered.“Your client never even told us what his actual disability is,” April objected, casting a sharp look at Howard.“Careful,” Cockatoo warned. “You don’t want me to give you the other document in my case, do you?”He withdrew a much more substantial stack of papers and waved it in her face.“You think Matlock here is up for a fair housing lawsuit,” he asked, jerking the thumb on his free hand in the direction of his counterpart. “Ask him what the penalties are for discrimination against a protected class on a per violation basis. That doesn’t even begin to address damages for the pain and suffering this harrassment has caused my client. It doesn’t stop there. I’ll subpoena your records from the last decade and go through them like a goddamned spelunker on methamphetamines. If I can’t find a hundred other disgruntled former tenants like my client here to join in a class action suit, well, my name isn’t Johnnie Cockatoo.”He winked, returned the document to the briefcase, turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The clacking of his shoes on the tile seemed somehow even louder. The doors slammed shut behind him with a punctuating boom.April and Howard locked eyes in the ensuing silence.“Relax, Steven is agoraphobic,” Howard said at last. “He’s never going to get further than the balcony. I do want to talk to you about what accommodations can be made for his fear of heights, however.”“So who was that really,” April demanded. “Friend? Co-worker?”Howard let out a big sigh, realizing the jig was up.“Character actor I found on Craigslist,” he admitted. “Had you going though, right?”Her bright red lips peeled back in a predatory smile.“We’ll be out by the end of the month,” Howard relented. “It’s for the best anyway. I found a two bedroom for the same price across town at Shady Cove. Gives me a lot more space for the exposure therapy my shrink wants to try for my arachnophobia.”The apartment lawyer fell out of his chair and started flopping on the floor like a fish. Howard shuffled out of the room, grabbing at his hamstring.Damn, sciatica. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

NeuroLinkedIn - Part 2 (of 2)

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Sun, 18 Feb 2024 08:49:49 -0800

... Continued from Part 1 “Markus Ruhl requires thirty seven more seconds of charging,” the agent then stated. “Please, do not obstruct the ultraviolet radiation.”Dave stepped out of the way of the sun.“That thing in your head runs on solar?”“Affirmative,” Markus responded.Half a minute later, a faint series of beeps indicated charging was complete. The agent stood, as did the dog laying next to him.“He is very well behaved,” Becky noted, gesturing at the golden.Both the agent and the dog just stared off into the distance in response, the only sound coming from a nearby patron answering her phone.Was that smoke coming out of his ears?“Um, should we get going then,” she asked, disconcerted.Still there was no response.Finally, both the agent and the dog seemed to jolt awake and turn their attention to Becky.“Apologies,” the agent said. “A staff member of this establishment was using the microwave.”“I was just saying your dog seems highly in tune with you,” Becky said. “You’ve got this whole mind-meld thing going on.”“Markus Ruhl is connected to his companion animal via neurolink,” the agent told her. “Markus Ruhl was the first human test subject for this technology. Perseus was the first canine subject.”“So they moved on to humans once it was found safe and effective in dogs,” Becky asked.“Negative,” the agent corrected. “Perseus received his implant once it was determined safe and effective in Markus Ruhl.”Dave guffawed.“Sounds about right,” he laughed. “Realtors, first. Then dogs, and then people.”Becky hit him again, harder this time.“Markus Ruhl is ready,” the agent informed. “Are Dave and Becky DeFonso?”“Ready,” Dave agreed, rubbing his shoulder as Becky nodded.The group began walking towards the parking lot. Becky couldn’t help but notice how the agent went to great lengths to avoid coming close to other pedestrians. He gave a wide berth to every person they passed, as did the golden.Out of nowhere, a biker crossed in front of them. His cell phone made an ungodly screeching sound as he nearly collided with the agent, sending the biker crashing into a parked car. People came running from every direction to help. As the crowd surrounded them, one cell phone joined in the screeching, then another. Soon enough, it sounded like the emergency broadcast warning had taken over the PA system at a Spinal Tap concert.A man grabbed his chest and fell to his knees.“What’s happening,” Becky screamed.“Pacemaker … or something,” Markus Ruhl answered in the same monotone.Dave grabbed them both around the shoulders and pulled them away from the chaos. A cacophony of car alarms erupted across the parking lot. Upon reaching his Tesla, it started itself and drove into oncoming traffic. Squealing brakes, followed by the sickening crunch of heavy metal as a massive pileup ensued.“Road hazard reported,” Markus Ruhl announced. “First appointment rescheduled to twelve forty five pm.”A flock of flying birds fell at their feet.The air itself crackled with electricity, and smelled of scorched circuitry. Police sirens warbled to life in the distance.Dave and Becky took off running, the golden retriever joyfully pursuing them before bounding off to chase a squirrel up a tree. The reflectors on its jump suit flashing like a crazed disco ball.“Recalculating,” Markus Ruhl called out, matter of factly.The couple looked back to see the agent turning in tight circles.“Recalculating,” he repeated, over and over again.Becky pulled the phone out of her pocket as they ran. Once it powered on, she opened the Zillia app. Encouraged for a review of Markus Ruhl’s service, she highlighted one star.The agent’s head promptly exploded, coating a twenty foot radius in a red mistHer phone dinged as a confirmation message filled the screen.Thank you for your feedback! A new agent is being located ...An icon circled below the message as it processed.Becky shrieked. They kept running.When they could no longer run, they walked in silence for what felt like hours. When they could no longer walk, they sat down on the street curb.“Jesus,” Dave breathed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Who knew Blade Runner was a fucking documentary?”“I can’t stop shaking,” Becky answered. “I’m ready to get off of this planet.”Dave held her for a long moment.Eventually, Becky remembered the phone in her hand. She swiped off the message that now read, Agent Located!, and opened her UBER app.Prompted to enter a destination, Becky turned to Dave.“Did you happen to catch the address of that first place,” she asked.Dave turned his palms up and shrugged in response.Her phone screeched in her hand.“Eight one seven five North Oakshore Drive,” a new voice said just behind them, followed by shallow, rhythmic panting. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

NeuroLinkedIn - Part 1 (of 2)

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Sun, 18 Feb 2024 08:30:54 -0800

Dave and Becky scanned the busy, sun-drenched coffee shop patio. They had shared a laugh on the drive over about the fact that neither of them had any idea what the person they were meeting looked like. He had simply assured them that they would know him when they saw him. Searching the crowd for a single patron amongst the crowded tables, Becky tugged at Dave’s sleeve when she spotted a bald man in aviator sunglasses sitting bolt upright in a metal chair. He was sitting well away from the crowd, all alone but for the unleashed golden retriever laying next to his table. Both he and his dog were wearing silver jumpsuits with reflector strips all over them.It had to be him.The couple approached with polite smiles and outstretched hands.“You must be Markus,” Dave hazarded. “I’m Dave DeFonso, and this is my wife, Becky.”The man did not answer. Nor did he flinch. He just sat there still as a statue. A fly landed on his nose, stayed a few seconds, and then buzzed off with no reaction from its host.“Uh, are you okay,” Dave asked, furrowing his brow. “You are Markus, right? The real estate agent?”“Affirmative,” came the belated response. “This is Markus Ruhl, real estate agent with EKG Properties.”The man spoke in an odd, detached monotone. His mouth moved mechanically, emphasizing each syllable. The rest of him remained preternaturally still.Dave furrowed his brow even deeper. He was one of those affable types whose face seemed to be made of silly putty, every thought conveyed by a telltale dimple or wrinkle. Becky liked to tease him about being the Shar Pei she always wanted as a girl.“Jinx,” Becky whispered, understanding the look and giving him a good-natured jab to the shoulder to show they were on the same page.“Alrighty then,” Dave said with a raised eyebrow and sideways glance at his wife.Fuck if I know, her shrugged response implied.“Greetings,” the man continued. “It is a pleasure to meet you, potential residential real estate clients.”He raised and extended his gloved hand towards Dave, who took it. The man gave one formal shake, released Dave’s hand, and repeated the ritual with Becky.“Right, greetings and salutations,” Dave played along, raising a palm in mock salute. “Nanu Nanu!”Becky shoulder checked him, silently imploring her overgrown manchild of a husband to behave. If the agent took any offense to the joke at his expense, he didn’t show it. His deeply tanned face remained expressionless; his eyes a mystery behind those absurd shades. Even the dog at his side sat motionless but for shallow, rhythmic panting as it cooled itself against the midday heat. The agent couldn’t have chosen a more exposed table.“We want to buy a house,” Becky blurted, taking the initiative to prevent Dave from embarrassing her further. “We just moved here from Seattle in the fall, and apartment life just isn’t for us. Can you help us?”“Affirmative,” the agent replied.“Great,” Becky exclaimed, sweeping her long brown hair off the back of her neck and over a slender shoulder. Dave would have a fit, but she had already made the decision to chop it all off in advance of summer. It didn’t play well with the desert heat.“Your website mentioned something about a commission rebate that you apply towards all of our closing costs? Is that for real?”“Affirmative.”“That’s incredible,” Becky marveled. “Can I ask why you do that?”“Markus Ruhl is a protoype,” the agent answered, shifting his body ever so slightly to escape the shade of Dave’s notable shadow as the couple sat in the chairs opposite him. “He is still in beta testing. Volunteers receive compensation for utilizing Markus Ruhl’s services and providing real time feedback on his performance via the proprietary app you were prompted to download. It is very important to Markus Ruhl that he provides you with five star service.”“Prototype,” Dave interjected, the crevasses in his forehead threatening to swallow his face whole. “Prototype of what?”“Markus Ruhl is the first neurochipped real estate agent in the history of human existence,” the agent responded.“Okay, now you sound like a Realtor,” Dave chuckled,“Did you say … neurochipped,” Becky interrupted. “Like there’s a microchip in your brain?”“Affirmative, Markus Ruhl is the first human recipient of this ground-breaking technology from Zillia Home Corp,” the agent droned. “Patent pending.”“So that’s why you were so specific about us turning our phones off for this meeting,” Becky concluded. “Like signal interference or something?”“Affirmative,” Markus Ruhl answered. “Interference … or something.”“So how does this technology work,” Becky asked.“Markus Ruhl is currently connected to the MLS,” the agent answered. “Tell him your property needs.”“No way,” Dave replied. “Okay, we need three bedrooms, two baths, with a two car garage and a pool for under six hundred thousand.”“There are sixty seven active listings within a five mile radius of this location that fit your property requirements,” the agent immediately answered. “Correction. Sixty six. The home at one four two two East Tucker Way has been updated to ‘Sale Pending’ status as of one point three seconds ago.”Again, the agent shifted his body to follow the sun.“We need to be in a good school district,” Becky added, touching the imperceptible bump in her abdomen.“There are forty six active listings in districts classified with ‘excelling’ schools,” the agent announced.“With an open floor plan, and no busy streets,” Dave said.“There are thirty one active listings that indicate a ‘great room’ concept,” the agent updated. “There are eighteen active listings that do not abut major thoroughfares.”Becky and Dave shared a look, then turned back to Markus Ruhl.“Big yard,” they said in unison.“There are six active listings on parcels with a minimum of one half acre,” the agent responded.“When can we see them,” Becky pleaded, suddenly eager.“Markus Ruhl has scheduled all showings with the automated service,” the agent replied. “The first appointment begins in precisely fourteen minutes.”“Hot damn,” Dave exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. “I could get used to this!”“What are we seeing first,” Becky inquired, standing to join her husband.“Property one is located at eight one seven five North Oakshore Drive. It is listed for five hundred ninety five thousand dollars, and has been on the market for seventy nine days. The current owners are Donald and Maisel Levin. They have three children: Samantha, Davis, and Aidan. Ages five, eight, and sixteen. Donald is a software engineer with Trixeo Industries. Donald has recently accepted a promotion and transfer to Dallas, and scheduled movers for March nineteenth at eight AM. The Levins purchased the home for four hundred thirty thousand dollars on May third, two thousand nineteen, and currently owe three hundred seventy two thousand dollars and eighteen cents on their mortgage. Markus Ruhl estimates that this property is worth five hundred eighty one thousand dollars and fifty two cents, but there is a ninety two point four percent chance that the Levins will accept an offer of five hundred fifty seven thousand.”The couple stared at the agent with mouths agape.“Please, demonstrate your satisfaction with Markus Ruhl by giving him a five star rating at the conclusion of this appointment,” the agent commanded. ... Continue to Part 2 Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

AI Killed the Real Estate Star

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Thu, 15 Feb 2024 10:01:30 -0800

All that's left for you to do is move right in!Geraldine sat back from her keyboard, grinning as she laced her fingers behind her head."You still go it," she congratulated herself on another job well done, her smoker's rasp yielding to a brief coughing fit. She fished the last cigarette out of the pack of Virginia Slims on the desk next to the old Toshiba laptop with an arthritic claw. Everything took longer these days, but that only added to the eventual satisfaction.Lighting up, she proofed her ad copy for the fourth time through the cancerous haze. She chuckled at her favorite bits, like the proud parent of puns and witticisms that she was.More upgrades than a Kardashian! More remodeling than a Jenner!Don't take these counter tops for granite!Even the pronoun police agree that Mrs. Clean lives here! Despite having written hundreds of property descriptions over the years, the one thing Geraldine prided herself on above all else was that no two were exactly the same. She agonized over every noun. Scrutinized every verb. Relished every adjective. While there may be only so many ways to describe a swimming pool, or a great room, by God she would find a new combination of words every time. Even if it just meant tweaking timeless cliches ever so slightly.This was what she brought to the table. This was why her clients hired her. It was right there on her business card, after all:"Geraldine Jurgenson - The House Poet"The cursor was still flashing on the screen, insistent. It drew her grey eye to the call to action just beneath her text:Improve with AIGeraldine scoffed, as she always had since artificial intelligence entered her profession in recent months. Not for the first time, she wondered what illiterate boob of an agent would outsource her very words to R2D2. The world had become a very strange place since Reagan left office.And yet ... she couldn't deny the morbid curiosity that flooded her doubting mind.What does a machine know about selling a house?What computer code can tug at a home buyer's emotions like my prose?She saved what she had written, took a long swig of Diet Pepsi through a turtle-killing bendy plastic straw, and pressed the button allowing for artificial "enhancement" of her property description. This would be good for a laugh."Okay, Data, show me what you got," she smirked, pleased with her reference.No sooner had she finished her sentence did the lengthy paragraphs on the screen rearrange themselves into shorter blurbs. Despite herself, she had to admit that the new layout was more approachable and easier on the eye than her wall of text.Parlor trick, she told herself. Of course a computer would structure everything just right. She did use spellcheck and grammarcheck, after all. She shouldn't be surprised that maximum efficiency was a check in the robot's column. A useful syntax tool, nothing more.Fair play, Mr.Roboto, but now let's see how you do with the actual art of writing.She comforted herself with the certainty that the glorified Roomba's words would have all the flow of her late husband's prostate.Her smile faded as she read through the opening lines, however. It disappeared entirely when she moved on to the second paragraph. By the time she read through the conclusion, she was physically shaking and near tears.It was beautiful. Captivating even. The details. The descriptions. The robot's version was so much more concise and impactful than hers, despite being confined to the same 1000 character limit.She had never before seen a walk-in pantry described as " a magical wardrobe to culinary Narnia." Nor had she ever considered opening a line dedicated to a home's hardwood flooring with, "Well, shiver me timbers!" Every nuanced phrase was as fresh and unique as her old rote was tired and hackneyed.It made her want to buy the house. And she hated this house.She could scarcely believe it. Just like that, the niche she had dedicated decades to carving out for herself had been filled in by the lifeless fever dream of some computer geek in Northern California.If AI was the latest and greatest trend, Geraldine realized that she had become the handyman special, in need of a total makeover. With her osteoporosis, she couldn't even make the claim to good bones anymore.She had seen the future, and octogenarian agents like herself certainly weren't it. All the selfie filters in the world couldn't obscure that fact."Well, old gal," she announced to the room as she powered off the laptop and stood. "There is always a market for a fixer-upper."She made a mental note to reduce her fee and order new business cards as she shuffled out of the cramped, smoke-filled room."Alexa, turn off the lights," she croaked over her bony shoulder, plunging the old cottage into darkness. "The party's over." *Author's Note: I haven't posted on the platform in a VERY long time. If you enjoy my stories and would like to read more, please be sure to follow along here:The Scottsdale Property Shop Blog Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Take the Scottsdale Neighborhood Quiz!

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Tue, 28 Feb 2017 15:43:48 -0800

Interested in moving to Scottsdale, but don't know where to start? Curious where you can find that mid-centuy modern ranch or colonial bungalow amongst the sea of Spanish style homes? Wondering which neighborhoods offer gated options? Parks? Top-rated schools? Looking for lakefront living? Desert vistas? Hillside lots? Wonder where the larger homes with low maintenance lots are? What about smaller homes with larger lots? Before you can find the perfect home, you have to find the perfect neighborhood. Fortunately, we have taken the guesswork out of the equation. Our one-of-a-kind neighborhood quiz will hone in on your unique needs and preferences to produce your very own PDF report of top-matching neighborhoods. Whether you are actively in the hunt or just getting started on your research, this is a tool all prospective Scottsdale home buyers need to have in their arsenal. Ready to get started? Take the Scottsdale Neighborhood Quiz today to find the fit that is right for you! Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Why ScottsdalePropertyShop.Com? Because Bad Home Search Data Sucks

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Thu, 18 Dec 2014 03:44:04 -0800

So there you are. Browsing through one of the large national home search portals. You run across a listing like you, and contact the smiling agent whose picture adorns the sidebar for more information.Sorry, this one is under contract. Undeterred, you go back to your search. It isn't long before you spot another candidate that looks like it could be the home for you. You send Mr. Smiley a new inquiry.Sorry, that one is under contract, too."What the heck," you demand of the smirking avatar before scrolling through the remaining search results.Ah, there's another one that could work. Looks perfect, in fact.There is no record of that one ever being listed in the MLS, Mr. Smiley informs you. Must be an old Craigslist post or something.Exasperated, you slam your laptop shut and storm out of Starbucks.Bad data sucks. The good news is that you don't have to put up with it in your Scottsdale home search. Whereas many of the larger, national Real Estate platforms pull their listing data from a multitude of places, The Scottsdale Property Shop only shows you homes that are actively listed for sale in the Arizona Regional MLS. Not only is our feed updated daily to expunge properties that are no longer available, but we have taken painstaking efforts to ensure that your search results (as well as our preset listing feeds) filter out those properties that have gone under contract, but not yet closed escrow.With a wide array of search options, you get the same great search experience, just without all the bad and/or obsolete data. Want to eliminate properties that don't have photos? You can do that.Want to include only or exclude all bank-owned / foreclosure listings? You can do that.Want to view properties within walking distance of schools, parks, shopping, downtown, etc? You can do that.Want to view properties that were listed as a gag for $10 on a community bulletin six years ago? Sorry, that's not our bag.Now what are you waiting for? Start your Scottsdale Home Search at the most reliable Scottsdale Real Estate site on the web today!No fool's gold. No bogus listings. No BS. No kidding. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

4128 E. Hancock Dr, Phoenix, AZ 85028

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Thu, 10 Oct 2013 05:58:25 -0700

Looking for a home in the Sequoya / Cocopah / Chaparral school districts? Tired of overpriced investor fix and flips? Discouraged by the older construction that dominates this coveted locale? I come to you today with a tonic for the discouraged home buyer blues, namely, my new listing at 4128 E. Hancock Drive in NE Phoenix. While I could drone on and on about the incredible upgrading this 1990s vintage home has received in the last nine months, a picture is worth a thousand words. Maybe more in my case. Feast your eyes on this kitchen! (See what I did there?) Want to see more? Of course you do. Follow me back to the Scottsdale Property Shop for full property information on this exquisitely upgraded NE Phoenix home! Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Appraisals, Underwriters and the Third Rail of the Housing Recovery

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 10:53:21 -0800

In theory, an appraisal is an independent evaluation of a property by a neutral third party to determine its likely worth in the open market. In practice, it has become the de facto final word on a property’s worth, overriding the agreement between a willing buyer and seller. How is it that the guestimation of value has supplanted the actual sale as the ultimate arbiter of worth? That the tail has come to wag the dog? Thank your friendly financial institution. You see, appraisals are rarely ordered for cash transactions. Why? Because the buyer has already reviewed the recent sales comparables and negotiated the best terms he/she could with the seller before arriving at the final sales price. Appraisals are requirements of (most) financed transactions because they are really not for the benefit of the buyer. They are an added layer of protection for the lender that is putting up the bulk of the purchase money. Certainly an understandable requirement from an institution that is taking on the risk of lending money against a property that may or may not represent suitable collateral, depending on the drooling-idiocy factor of the buyer. The bank demands an appraisal to validate the purchase price before ponying up the cash; makes perfect sense. Where things have gotten a bit off-kilter as of late is in the bank’s internal review process of the appraisal. Times were, the appraisal came back at value, and you were good to go. Your shrewd purchase was confirmed by a non-biased review by a licensed professional. After the housing meltdown, however, banks have taken to assigning the bulk of the blame for the whole fiasco to unscrupulous loan originators and appraisers for falsifying loan applications and willfully inflating values, respectively; ignoring their own ridiculous loan products that were offered to people who never should have been candidates for stated income, interest-only financing vehicles, they are determined to stamp out any potential for fraudulent dealings that exposes them to similar risk in the future. Tightened appraisal standards came to pass, including restrictions placed upon direct selection of appraisers (most orders go to faceless appraisal management companies now, who in turn select the appraiser). Loan originators and Realtors have limited access to appraisers these days, lest we corrupt their sensibilities and bend them to our devious aims. The appraiser is now free to perform his evaluation in an ivory tower, unencumbered by the incentive-laden hands that would pull at him to bring in a value reflective of the sales price. Or is he? While charges of fraud and artificial inflation of value have been heaped upon the working stiffs from up high, I posit that the exact opposite is now occurring. With the current barriers in place, the banks themselves are the only ones with unfettered access to the appraiser during the course of a transaction. Beholden only to those banks, appraisers have been put in the impossible position of providing fair evaluations of properties for institutions that have a vested interest in suppressing value/risk. Bluntly, banks are actively pressuring appraisers to devalue properties. By using the veto power of the underwriter review, they may demand that an appraisal which came in at value be reworked to use different comps or adjustments made to the physical attributes of the house that they dispute (square footage adjustments, etc). They may demand that adjustments (downgrades) be made for market trends, etc. In short, some bean counter in an office in South Dakota is using his position to dictate the final version of the appraisal to the licensed professional who has actually physically viewed, measured, photographed and evaluated the property. This is how appraisals initially come in at $400,000, only to get knocked down to $350,000 upon underwriter review. And when that happens? You get to appeal the appraisal … to the very institution responsible for the final disparity in value. Akin to taking one’s death sentence appeal to the hangman himself. Appraisers have little choice but to comply if they want to keep their accounts with the big banks in good standing. Further, until the underwriter signs off on the appraisal, it really doesn’t matter what value is reflected in it. He decides the house isn’t worth what you are paying for it, your loan is scuttled. Unless the seller agrees to sell the property to you at the reduced price (unlikely in a market that is now generating bidding wars) or you have additional cash to plunk down to make up the difference, you are out the cost of the appraisal, inspections and emotional investment in the property. The big banks are artificially suppressing our values, and they are charging you $350-400 a pop to do it. What’s the best way to ensure that you are working with an institution that is actually interested in helping you purchase the home of your dreams? Think local. Many small, local banks not only work with select appraisers who actually know the areas they cover (as opposed to trucking them in from Tuba City on the luck of the draw), but are more likely to keep your loan in their portfolio. One of the primary drivers of a big bank’s decision to take on your loan is how sellable it is on the secondary market. Any quirks with the property, such as it being recently “flipped” by an investor, and the loan becomes less attractive to them. Out come the knives. Add the suppression of value and subsequent hindrance to the market’s recovery to the list of charges I wouldn’t mind seeing in a financial perp-walk. Such manipulation of the market and coercive impact on property values does not merely effect buyers, but it robs sellers at large of what little equity they may have left. Of course, I suppose it is only fitting that the very institutions that spawned the ponzi schemes that led to housing’s demise are the same that would stand in the way of its nascent resurrection. Such practices are an affront to us all, and must be stopped. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Black Friday

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 12:28:37 -0800

Warning: The story you are about to read has nothing to do with Real Estate, and could very well make you dumber by proxy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Carl Maldalfi spent Thanksgiving in a ball pit in the toy section of Stalwart Superstore. Gnawing on the strips of smoked turkey he had concealed on his person, namely in the myriad pockets of his black fatigues, he bided his time while the last-minute holiday shoppers stuck primarily to the bakery and food aisles. Hustle and get that pumpkin pie, he thought with a disgusted smirk. Not like you had three hundred and sixty five days to secure that can of cranberries. The lazy habits of the typical American consumer made the Gulf War veteran sick. The entitled masses had no discipline. No impetus for proper planning. No respect for the sacrifices made by men like him who fought to protect their petty, apathetic way of life. “Hi.” Carl froze, realizing he’d been spotted by the owner of the tiny voice. “Hi,” the child tried again, staring Carl in the eye and holding a package that housed a small, green and chrome top. Carl recognized the toy as a Beyblade, not unlike the one his son Sherman had included on the list he mailed to Santa via Carl’s post office box address. The list that now resided in his right front pocket. The snot-nosed little brat in front of him probably didn’t even know he could buy it for 70% less in about eight hours. Desperate to retrieve Sherman’s rightful stocking stuffer from the pint-sized bogey, but equally determined to maintain cover, Carl narrowed his feral, brown eyes. His face obscured by a liberal application of eye-black, they were the only visible features of his fearsome scowl. “You silly,” the boy laughed as he tore open the packaging. He threaded a red, plastic ripcord through the toy, preparing it for battle. “Fwee, two, one … let it wip!” The boy pulled the cord, launching the whirling top. Carl watched as it bumped against the base of his enclosure. Looking around, seeing no one else, he shot a black-sleeved arm out of the sea of plastic balls and snagged it. “Hey,” the boy objected, tears welling in his big, blue eyes. “Jimmy,” a woman’s voice called from an aisle over, closing. “Jimmy?” “There you are,” the young mother exclaimed as she swept the stammering child into her arms. “You can’t just run off like that, sweetheart.” “M-m-m-my b-bey b-blade!” Carl put a finger to his thin lips, imploring the imp’s silence. “I told you we’d get you one tomorrow, sweetie,” she promised, kissing his wispy blond hair as she strode off in the direction of the bakery. “B-but the man in there took it,” the child objected, looking over her shoulder and pointing at Carl’s hiding place. Carl pointed back at the boy and drew a thumb across his own throat. “Of course he did, sweetie,” she acknowledged, not faltering in her purposeful march. “But we have to hurry. Now, do you know any little boys who like apple pie?” “Me,” the boy squealed before disappearing out of earshot. Carl let out the breath he’d been holding as a tinny beeping erupted somewhere around him. He experienced a brief moment of panic before realizing it was the timer on his wristwatch that he had synchronized to the store’s posted closing time. He stayed the alarm with the touch of a button and removed another piece of jerky from a pocket. And he waited. The overhead lights dimmed ten minutes later, and still he didn’t budge. Only after the last employee had finished restocking the neighboring shelves, and the janitorial crew came and went an hour after that, did he dare emerge from cover. The box store now fully cast in darkness. It took a full five minutes to unwind his frozen appendages. Stretching the pain out of his shoulders, he removed the night vision goggles from the black backpack that had made an unforgiving pillow for the past six hours. “There you are, my pretty,” he mumbled into the otherworldly green hue as he donned the goggles and spread out the hand-drawn schematic map that had taken him multiple reconnaisance trips to perfect. Confirming the route that was seared into his nefarious mind, he set off for the electronics department. Removing several more items from his pack, he first rigged trip wires to both points of entry to the 55” LCD flat-screen televisions. “I’ll take the Samsung,” he smiled. “You mooks can have the Claymores.” Carl’s next stop was the home appliance section by way of the automotive department. He smiled as he electrified the handle of a Maytag Neptune with a set of alligator clamps and a portable car battery charging station. In the sporting goods department, he used fishing line and a two by four to rig a bowling ball to fall from the shelf above an official Thomas the Tank Engine tricycle. A bullsnake with a baby rattle duct taped to its tail would dissuade even the most eager hand from reaching too deeply into the dollar DVD bin. In the women’s clothing section, he paused in front of an item not on his list. “For Deborah,” he assured the empty confines as he switched the tags on two pairs of satin undergarments. On a whim, he greased the floor in front of the pain killers in the pharmaceutical aisle with jar after jar of Vaseline. The stopwatch started beeping again. Removing his goggles, he was shocked to find that sunlight was already beginning to creep through the East-facing glass doors of the cavernous facility. He saw a long line of shifting shapes that he knew to be inhabited sleeping bags stretched along the length of the storefront. The vultures were waking. After one last check of his list, he crept back to his lair; slipping under the undulating surface of multi-colored plastic balls as the echo of a deadbolt being thrown reverberated throughout the quiet store. He removed a final item before ditching the backpack, his legs tense as he prepared to fall in with the initial wave of slack-jawed bargain hunters. Lemmings, he scoffed. They might not score any of the best deals, but at least they’d bring home a good story. His grip tightened around the canister of military-grade mace. This was going to be fun. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Willy Was a Liar

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 05:27:08 -0700

Willy was a liar. Not a teller of tall tales, not a stretcher of the truth, but a pathological liar. Whether swearing that his Uncle Doug played cowbell on Blue Oyster Cult’s ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper,’ or assuring an unsuspecting child that one plus one equals purple, weaving extravagant falsehoods came as naturally to the forty six year old Nobel laureate/nuclear physicist/bratwurst-eating champion as breathing. So it was that Willy found himself speaking with a Real Estate agent one late autumn morning, outlining his very specific criteria for the home he intended to purchase. “The community must be horse-friendly,” Willy informed the agent. “Did I tell you Starchaser showed at Belmont last year? Would have won if he didn’t come up lame half a length from the tape.” Harris Burfect struggled to keep up, scribbling in the margins of a notepad already overwhelmed with his chicken-scratch. A cynic by nature, Harris had taken the appointment on the off chance that the Danny DeVito look-alike was legit. He’d learned his lesson about prematurely blowing off prospects as flakes the hard way. “And no wells,” Willy continued. “Arsenic poisoning claimed his sire at the ranch I used to own in Montana.” “We’ll certainly have the property inspected for hazar-” “Wasn’t the well itself that did him in,” Willy insisted, waving off the agent’s placation. “It was old man Monticore. He was always jealous of my stallions, as he was right to be. He couldn’t raise a barn in Amish country, let alone a thoroughbred.” “Autopsy was ruled inconclusive,” he continued, making air quotes with his sausage fingers. “But he had everyone from the coroner to the constable in his hip pocket. Those thieves had been trying to run me out of that two-bit town ever since I struck oil in the summer of two thousand and two. Greedy pigs would stop at nothing to get me off that claim.” Harris shook out the cramp in his hand and turned to a new page. Words such as ‘ranch’ and ‘oil’ had dollar bills dancing in his mind’s eye despite his swirling doubts. “Okay, no wells,” he yielded, eager to steer the conversation back on course. “You okay with septic systems? Most horse properties pre-date the sewer, and not too many ranchers around here have bothered to take on the expense of linking up to it.” “Well that simply won’t do,” Willy replied. “Septic systems are a biological nightmare. Did you know that the leech field of a typical alternative waste disposal system contains more radioactive residue than a centrifuge that has processed atomic material within the past twenty four hours?” “I’m not familiar with-” “It’s true,” Willy assured him. “Over the years, I’ve seen far more extra fingers and missing teeth in remote villages where such waste systems are used than I did during my humanitarian mission to Chernobyl back in ninety eight.” “Fascinating,” Harris admitted, gawking at the vaguely unhealthy-looking man across the table from him. “How long were you there?” “Only about six months,” Willy responded. “I wanted to stay, but the intel I’d gathered was deemed too urgent by the powers that be. In hindsight, it was for the best that they pulled me out when they did. Started noticing these … growths.” Willy rubbed a stooped shoulder as he stared off into the infinity through glassy, brown eyes. “Powers that be,” Harris wondered. “You mean like CIA?” Willy pulled back from wherever he’d gone and looked straight at the agent, winking. “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.” “Got it, moving on,” Harris allowed. “Have you spoken with a lender about your financing options yet?” He turned his head to follow the scent of rosemary that passed by on a tray, instantly regretting his own order. He found a dismissive smile on his client’s ruddy face when he turned back. “I’ll be paying cash,” Willy informed Harris, signalling the agent closer. Harris leaned across the table to steal a glance at the wad of cash Willy produced from the front pocket of his one-size-too-small, navy blue coat. It was bound by an ivory 'W' clip. “Not that I keep all of my money in greenbacks,” Willy assured him, fiddling with the gold chain around his neck. “If you don’t think ten million will get it done, I’ll prep my assistant to move some bullion. Or maybe a couple of the Rembradts.” “Very good,” Harris gulped, picturing a humorless courier walking into the title company with an attache case handcuffed to his wrist. His internal crazy alarm had moved to DEFCON-3, but he was willing to play out the string. He’d already invested this much time. “So when do you want to start looking?” “Straight away,” Willy answered, checking his watch as he stood. “As soon as I get back from the Maldives.” “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said. “I have a B-2 Spirit to catch.” Harris made a move for his wallet. “Please,” Willy said, staying the agent’s arm with his hand. “You insult me.” He peeled a few bills from his roll and dropped them on the table. “Have a productive trip, Mr. Stiffu,” Harris said as he extended his hand. “Can’t shake,” Willy lamented, tossing him a flippant two-finger salute instead. “My attorneys advise it could potentially void the insurance policy.” “We’ll be in touch. Be ready.” With that, the squat, little enigma of a man turned on his heel and strolled out of the cafe, stopping once to tell an older couple studying a menu that the eggs benedict were excellent today. A bemused grin spread across the agent’s face. He was still smiling when the waitress came by to clear the two plates of half-eaten pancakes and settle the check. Who knew? If even a fraction of what he’d been told was true, there might be a sale somewhere in the middle of it yet. Stranger things had happened. “Sir?” Harris didn’t hear her as he polished off the last lukewarm swallow of coffee. He was preoccupied with the ornate insignia stamped across the saucer upon which the dainty cup had been resting. “Sir?” Monticore Fine China. “Son of a bitch,” Harris muttered. “Sir,” the waitress said again, louder. Harris looked up at the fresh-faced server. “What am I supposed to do with this,” she asked, waving a stack of Monopoly money hidden beneath a one dollar bill. “Buy Park Place?” “Sucker’s play,” Harris sighed, reaching for his wallet for the second time in five minutes. “Nobody ever lands on Boardwalk.” Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

NAR Initiative to Mandate REALTORS Update Avatars

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 16:50:14 -0700

(Washington DC) – In a statement released this morning, the National Association of Realtors® announced a new initiative aimed at curbing abuse in photographic representation amongst its membership in the virtual sphere. “This initiative has been ten years in the making,” according to NAR spokesman,Trevor Null. “Ever since Realtors entered the online space en masse, we have been fielding complaints from the public about misleading avatars.” Jane DeVannon of Surprise, AZ filed one such complaint back in 2009. “We were nervous first time buyers,” Mrs. DeVannon explained. “Having never been through the process, we had no idea what to expect and knew that we needed to hire a Real Estate agent we could trust to guide us through the process. So we did what we always do when we have a critical decision to make. We Googled it.” With over 87% of today’s home buyers starting their searches online, per NAR statistics, the DeVannons’ story is a common one. “We settled on a nice looking gentleman, about forty or forty two, with two darling children in his profile picture. Imagine our surprise when an obese seventy five year old with a goiter the size of an Olsen twin showed up to our first appointment. We tried to make the best of it, but we could just never get past the initial lie,” Mrs. DeVannon related. “We have long had a reputation problem with the general public,” Null admitted. “Grossly misrepresenting our appearances in online marketing has only served to exacerbate the institutional mistrust. I mean, when you think you’re hiring Gary Cooper, and you get Gary Coleman, it’s a problem.” According to Initiative UB-FUGLY, all Realtors® will be required to update their avatars monthly, without benefit of Photoshop or similar photo editing software that can alter true appearance. “And none of this downward pointing camera angle bullshit,” Null expanded. “If you have three chins, the consumer needs to see three chins.” Penalties for failing to comply with the new requirements will be severe, including mandatory use of DMV photos for first time offenders. Proof of ownership for any/all pets and children in a Realtor’s avatar must be furnished prior to Internet use. Nieces and nephews are off limits. The news comes too late for the DeVannons, but they are hopeful that future buyers will be spared their painful lesson in what the NAR refers to as “photo synthesis.” “We think he rented the kids,” Mrs. DeVannon added. - Filed by Paul Slaybaugh, BSRE News © 2011 Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Bad Faith

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 16:53:55 -0700

“What do you mean I can’t back out on the inspection,” James “Jamo” Monahan demanded. “Say the frigging icemaker doesn’t work or something.” “Like I told you earlier, James, er, I mean Jamo,” Agnes DeMerrit explained to her disingenuous client on the other end of the line. “There is no second bite at the apple once repairs are agreed to by both parties. Besides, your ten days were up two weeks ago.” “Financing?” “Your loan is approved,” Agnes responded, her short, grey hair losing pigment by the syllable. “What if I go buy a car to screw up my ratios,” Jamo offered. “That would be bad faith, James, er, I mean Jamo,” Agnes chastised. “It will cost you your earnest money.” “Okay, the appraisal,” Jamo suggested. “We can still back out on the appraisal, right?” “Appraisal came back at purchase price,” Agnes informed him. “But you said it was ‘highly unlikely’ to appraise at the sales price,” Jamo exploded in her ear. “Now you’re telling me that I’m stuck in a deal at a price I never intended to pay? You listen to me, and you listen to me good. You better find me a way out of this contract or so help me God-“ Agnes pulled the phone away from her ear and took a deep breath. She despised working with investors. Absolutely despised it. Had she not run headlong into the driest spell of a forty year Real Estate career, she would have sent this creep packing so fast his Grecian Formula Plus infused head would have spun inside the raised collar of his pink Polo shirt. As a rule, she preferred buyers who were actually interested in buying. “Agnes? Agnes?” Her client’s strident voice sounded small and tinny from a distance. She took a moment to withdraw something from the desk drawer before putting the phone back to her ear. She absently unwound a snarl in the cord as she spoke. “All done?” Jamo’s silence answered for him. “Good. Now I’m going to tell you exactly how we are going to get you out of this contract with your earnest funds intact so you can pursue that new short sale that just hit the market this morning. If you’re ready to put on your big boy pants and listen, that is.” “I’m listening.” “Really listening? “Yes, I’m really listening,” he assured her. “No, James, er, Jamo,” Agnes rebuked. “I mean really listening.” “Look, I’m listening, okay,” Jamo replied with exasperation. “I’m really, really listening. The world has stopped outside of this conversation. I’m on pins and freaking needles. Now pretty please with a cherry on top, just tell me what to do!” Agnes whispered something into the phone, barely audible. “What,” Jamo asked. She whispered again, slightly louder. “What,” Jamo asked again, straining to understand. Agnes waited a beat before giving the air horn poised over the mouthpiece of the phone one long, shrill blast and terminating the call. “I said you’re fired, Jay-mo.” Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

New McCormick Ranch Listing: 8070 E Via Bonita

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 08:49:42 -0700

The home you didn't think existed in McCormick Ranch not only exists, but is now for sale. Decadently remodeled and expanded, this is the rarest of creatures for these parts. A Scottsdale Real Estate unicorn, if you will. Now remain quiet and try not to make any sudden movements. You don't want to scare it away. Got your lasso at the ready?

$569,000 - Majestic McCormick Ranch Home for Sale!

Location: Scottsdale, AZ Love McCormick Ranch, but the typical 1970s style homes of the community ... not so much? Wish you could marry the ideal central location and abundant amenities with architecture and cosmetics a little more in keeping with today's standards? Then this home is for you.Boasting well over 3000 square feet of remodeled excellence, the original floor plan of this Camelot home in the Palo Viento 2 subdivision of McCormick Ranch is barely recognizable. Expanded to include a bonus game room, relocated front door, expanded living room, expanded master, kitchen opened up to family room, newer roof and A/C(s), remodeled pebble-tec pool, stone and tile flooring, granite counter tops, recessed lighting throughout, stereo surround sound, plantation shutters, dual pane windows, front courtyard with water feature, rear yard with built-in BBQ and fountain, stacked stone fireplaces added to master bedroom and living room (in addition to existing fireplace in family room), additional closet added to master, popcorn ceilings scraped and retextured, pavers added in front and back yards, smooth stucco exterior ... this elegant home simply represents potential realized.Nestled in a golf course subdivision and flanked by the community lakes and multi-use path (Camelback Walk), you are near everything you love about McCormick Ranch living.Contact us today for a private viewing of this magnificent home.

Contact Information

Ray & Paul Slaybaugh (480) 220-2337

Pricing

Price: $569,000 Flexibility: Negotiable

Property Location

8070 E Via Bonita Scottsdale, AZ 85258 View Map

Features

Bedrooms: 4	Bathrooms: 2.5
Year Built: 1977	Subdivision: Palo Viento 2 (McCormick Ranch)
Lot Size: 11,995 Sq Ft	Garage Size: 2 Car
School District: Scottsdale Unified	Square Footage: 3171
Agent Name: Ray & Paul Slaybaugh	Broker: Realty Executives
MLS #: 4569616

Attributes

Appliances

Range/Oven

Full Refrigerator

Dishwasher

Sink Disposal

Microwave

Interior Amenities

Fireplace

Vaulted Ceilings

Surround Sound

Bonus / Game Room

Granite Counter Tops

Stone Flooring

Recessed Lighting

Dual Pane Windows

Walk-In Closet(s)

Jacuzzi Tub

Pantry

Exterior Amenities

Patio

Fenced Yard

Swimming Pool

Grass Lawn

Courtyard

Water Feature

Built-In BBQ

Equal Housing Opportunity

VFLYER ID: 19673001

Photo Gallery

8070 E Via Bonita Street View Front Courtyard Living Room Family Room Kitchen / Family Room Master Game Room Back Yard / Pool

Equal Housing Opportunity

VFLYER ID: 19673001

All information in this site is deemed reliable but is not guaranteed and is subject to change

Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Rain Street Blues

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 04:56:15 -0700

Sergeant Druge cringed against the ungodly screeching that accompanied the last goblin to slink into the squad room. Its spiked, purple tail carved a shallow groove in the ceramic tile as it dragged limply behind. “Long night, DARTH666,” Druge asked, tapping the lectern in front of him with a serrated claw. A quick glance at the clock on the far wall confirmed the time as 5:02 AM TST. “Sorry, Sarge,” Darth replied as he found a seat. “Stumbled onto a new site last night.” “And,” Druge prompted under a raised red unibrow. “And I hit paydirt,” Darth confirmed. “Social media site for Realtors.” Deep, wet chortles and high-pitched cackles erupted in the squad room. “OMG,” a towering, grey-haired beast intoned from the back of the room. “Social media and Realtors? In the same place?” “Throw in Justin Bieber and you’ve got the unholy triumvirate,” an overly caffeinated troll sneared through rotten, yellow teeth. “Tell me more,” the sergeant commanded. “It’s called ActiveRain,” Darth answered. “Supposedly the world’s largest Real Estate network.” The room grew silent as the assembled throng waited with what could only be described as reverence. “Real Estate agents, home stagers, loan officers, home inspectors, title clerks, web designers … it’s troll nirvana, sir. No offense,” Darth added, nodding his apology to the actual troll in attendance. “None taken.” “Were you able to make initial contact, plant a few seeds for conflict,” Druge pressed. “I did a hell of a lot better than that, Sarge,” Darth assured him. “Go on.” “Well, for starters, posing as a home stager, I wrote a scathing blog post about Realtors who were too daft to enlist my services,” Darth said. “I also managed to get in a few digs about how sellers don’t need an agent if they know where to place the sofa.” “Any bites?” “Bites,” Darth scoffed. “Look at my dorsal fin! I haven’t gotten this chewed up since the Craigslist Affair!” A murmur spread through the room as the ethereal underworld denizens recalled one of the proudest moments in unit history: offering a six month old human baby in trade for an X-Box and a case of Red Bull. Straight up. “I’m still fielding death threats from that one,” GRUMBLR_00 boasted from the back of the room, his iridescent dragon scales splayed out like a peacock. “Hell, forget threats. I’m still fielding inquires from that one,” an ashen zombie known by the handle @brainz added. “There are some really sick puppies out there.” “Alright, let’s stay on target, mutants,” Druge decreed. “Continue, please, DARTH666.” “After the home stager showdown, I was too jazzed to sleep,” Darth admitted. “So I decided to go back in as an SEO expert who didn’t know anything about SEO.” “SEO?” “Search engine optimization,” Darth informed the befuddled sergeant. “All of these Real Estate morons are gaga for it. Apparently think it’s the panacea that stands between their past due electric bill and riches beyond their wildest dreams.” “And?” “And lightning struck twice,” Darth informed him. “This time, though, it came down from the skies as if from the hammer of Thor himself. Vile email exchanges, slanderous accusations of slander, threats of lawsuits … it … it …,” he trailed off as his Adam’s appleless gullet choked up. “… it was the greatest night of my life,” he finally managed to croak. Completely spent, Darth slumped back in his chair. The small horns protruding from his forehead appeared to wilt with fatigue. “Great work, six six six,” Druge beamed. “I want you to take the day off. You’ve earned it.” “But, sir, I can go,” Darth objected. “Absolutely not,” Druge responded. “Take your purple ass home and get some sleep. That’s an order. We’re going to need you tomorrow bright and early.” Darth gingerly rose and shuffled out of the room, paws clapping him on the back as he went. “Assignments,” Druge bellowed as Darth pushed through the door and out of the squad room. “IAMDOOM11, YELLOWSNOWMAN!” “Sir,” two voices replied; one high, one low. “I want you two on the Twitter beat. See if you can’t pick another fight with Anderson Cooper.” “Yes, sir!” “BEETLEGEUSE84, STREISAND4DATASS!” “Sir!” “I want you on Facebook patrol. Follow up on friend requests and spam anyone who recently accepted with erectile disfunction prescription drug links.” “Yes, sir!” “SEMISAUCY, CAREBEARSFOREVER!” “Sir!” “You’re on MySpace. See if you can find it in you to call a twelve year old a jerk today.” “MySpace again, sir? But no one even goes there anymore!” “Exactly,” Druge retorted, closing his eye in exasperation. “When you two are ready to start acting like trolls, I’ll start start treating you like trolls. Until then, it's daycare duty. Got it? Now go pull someone’s hair.” “Yes, sir,” the pair sighed. “I want everyone else on this ActiveRain site from dawn until dusk,” Druge ordered. “But, sir,” a gorgon named BCSTONER objected, its hair hissing. “It’s my day to pick up the little monsters from school.” “Better call the sitter,” Druge advised. “We’re all pulling doubles.” A collective groan rose in the room. “None of that now,” Druge reprimanded his charges. “This site could make the career of every troll in this room. We don't want those posers at CORI getting there first, do we?" A few murmured "nos" greeted his invocation of their rivals at the Center for Online Riot Instigation. "Do we?" "No," the group boomed in unison. "I didn't think so," Druge approved. "Now let’s show the virtual world how we do it here in the Mariana Trench!” The room burst into action as monsters and ghouls arose to tackle the day, all hesitance forgotten as they shuffled/lurched/slid towards their consoles. Complaints about the long day ahead replaced with excited chatter. “And hey,” Druge bellowed over the din. “Let’s be careless out there.” Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Just Listed For Sale in McCormick Ranch ... The Exception

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 11:48:02 -0700

Peanut butter and jelly. Cookies and cream. Cheech and Chong. Such combinations prove the adage that the whole may indeed be greater than the sum of its parts on occasion. In the Scottsdale Real Estate world, that truth is readily apparent in some of the older master planned communities. Take McCormick Ranch, for instance. When considered in conjunction with the lakes, greenbelts, parks, shopping, award-winning schools and central location, some of the older properties that fall within its boundaries are far more desirable than they would be elsewhere in the Valley. Because, let's face it, 1970s architecture is sometimes better left in the 1970s. So if the dated homes that fall within desirable communities are given a boost for their address, what do you get when you add the variable of rennovation to the equation? And an exceptional lot? And a unique floor plan that you would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in the community? You get our one-of-a-kind new McCormick Ranch listing, that's what. You've been told that you'll have to make compromises to get the home you want in the neighborhood you want for the price you want. Well, you know what? Compromise is overrated. Boasting over 2800 square feet of remodeled decadence, this four bedroom gem greets you at the front door with soaring valuted ceilings and a two-way fireplace. The wide open kitchen looks out to the living, dining and family rooms. No dated laminate counter tops or 1970s avocado appliances here, but slab granite and stainless steel. The master suite is a monster by McCormick Ranch standards, and features a fully remodeled bath with travertine stone, granite top vanities and vessel sinks for a sumptuous retreat. Hardly a one trick pony that hides its newer interior inside a dated shell, the home's exterior features smooth stucco and a newer roof (2006) in addition to newer A/C. This home in this location would be special enough, but it has the good sense to reside on a 1/3 acre (nearly 15,000 square feet) North / South cul-de-sac lot. Like a big back yard for entertaining or just to get away from the world? You'll have all the room you need between the large covered patio, pool & spa area and two separate lawn areas that are each as large as the typical back yard by themselves. Oh, and one last thing. This anomaly has a 3 car garage. Yes, you heard me correctly: a 3 car garage in McCormick Ranch. While many properties in this sought after community will have an achilles heel, as is to be expected of 30 year old homes, you'll be hard pressed to find one here. But don't take my word for it. I'm a salesman. Give me a call or drop me an email to learn more about this special McCormick Ranch home, or to schedule a viewng today. Coffee's on me if you think I've puffed the goods. 8401 N 86th Way, Scottsdale, AZ 85258 MLS# 4552458 Property Features 4 Bedrooms 2867 Sq Ft (Approximate) 3 Car Garage Living Room / Family Room / Dining Room Pool & Spa Cul-De-Sac Lot 1/3 Acre Vaulted Ceilings Newer Roof & A/C Granite and Travertine and Porcelain ... Oh my! Chaparral High School District Lake Communitiy Golf Community Multi-Use Paths Greenbelt Offered for sale at $495,900 Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Walter Deklan's Great Escape

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 03:04:02 -0800

Sully strolled into the dingy office bullpen ten minutes late with his cell phone glued to his ear. He held up a well-tanned finger to still the chatter around him. “I don’t care if you have to charter a rowboat and pick them up yourself, just get’em here by tomorrow or so help me God I’ll bury the lob wedge so far up your backside you’ll need a proctologist for a caddy,” he threatened, terminating the call. “What did I miss,” he asked of no one in particular, surveying the room through designer Ray Bans before lowering his head to practice his golf swing. “Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Sullivan,” Walter Deklan, the office manager, said by way of a welcome. “We were just reviewing goal achievement for the accountability program that corporate introduced last month.” “Accountability program, pfft,” Sully scoffed. “I don’t need any accountant to tell me my last five hundred bucks just went to re-gripping my Pings. Right?” He nudged the constipated-looking man in the too tight corduroy pants standing next to him. “How many deals you close this year, Sullivan,” Deklan asked. “Including the Palmer transaction? None, but it’s only May,” he shrugged and moved on to practicing his short game. “Perkins, your turn,” Deklan announced, adjusting the knot of the faded royal blue and gold striped tie his son had given him for his forty fifth birthday. Bodies parted, revealing a small man in the back of the room. His hawkish nose was buried in an iPhone. “Perkins?” The little man didn’t flinch. “Perkins!” Perkins’ head snapped up, bifocals sliding down the sharp bridge of his beak. “Oh sorry, just checking in on Foursquare,” he said, nervously pushing the glasses back into place. “Did you meet the goals we set last week,” Deklan asked. “Well actually,” Perkins began, swelling beyond his full five feet four inches. “I exceeded them.” “That’s great, Sidney,” Deklan lauded. “So you made all your calls? Mailed all your letters?” “Well, not exactly,” Perkins answered. “Phone calls, handwritten notes, pop-ins … that old school stuff might have worked back in your day, but it’s all about the internet now.” Deklan buried his face in his hands, silently counting to ten as he was apt to do when the kids would shave their names into the dog, or write “FART” on the living room wall in purple crayon. “So what did you do this week, Sidney,” he asked upon reaching seven. “Thought you’d never ask,” Perkins squeaked. “This week alone, I composed six hundred and forty two tweets, wrote twelve blog posts and added fifty nine new connections on Linked-In.” Deklan stared at the second year agent. “You didn’t make a single sales call?” “No offense, Dek, but listen to yourself,” Perkins challenged, feeling his oats. “Who makes sales calls anymore? In case you haven’t noticed, everybody is online these days. A place where I happen to be a pretty big deal.” “Is that right,” Deklan asked. “Yeah, that’s right,” Perkins assured him. “I just crossed twenty five hundred Facebook friends. I’ve got seven hundred and fifty blog subscribers, and over eleven thousand Twitter followers.” “And one piece of shit rental listing,” Deklan added. Perkins blanched, his bulging hazel eyes magnified behind the thick glasses. Rescued from the humiliation by the buzzing of his handheld, he swallowed hard and retreated into his virtual kingdom. “Make sure to tell all your followers about being the mayor of No New Business,” Deklan suggested, unable to resist the dig. “How about you, Sheila,” he asked the aggressively dour woman standing directly in front of him with arms crossed. “Did you set aside two hours per day to preview property like we discussed?” “Cut the crap, Walter,” she snarled. “Nobody wants to talk about your stupid goals. If we needed a guidance counselor, we’d go back to high school.” A few scattered chuckles confirmed the assertion. “I know it may seem foolish, Sheila, but the simple stuff works. If you want to be a top producer, you have to do the things that top produ-” “We’re still out of hazelnut,” she interrupted, seething. “What?” “We’ve been out for a month,” she informed him. “Funny it’s the one flavor that always gets forgotten when I’m the only one who drinks it.” “I don’t know what to tell you, Sheila.” Deklan began, incredulous. “I place new orders on the first and the fifteenth, and I always include extra packets of-” “Never a mix up with the Columbian or the French Roast,” she noted. “Just the hazelnut.” “And these chairs,” she went on, her shrill voice climbing. “Are you waiting for my L4 vertebra to fall completely out before you get around to doing anything about them?” “Like I said last week, we’re in the middle of a recession here, Sheila,” Deklan began patiently. “We don’t have the mone-” “Liar,” she screeched, pointing an arthritic finger at the beleaguered office manager. “You managed to find enough of our money for the new sofa in the lobby, didn’t you?” “What would you have the clients do,” Deklan demanded, his blood beginning to boil. “Sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor? I bought that couch for ten bucks at an estate sale in Old Town. Dragged it in here on my day off.” She dismissed him with the flick of a bony wrist. “And why does Clarissa get to bring that mangy fleabag of hers into the office if I can’t bring my Mister Whiskers?” “It’s a guide dog for chrissakes,” Deklan railed, glancing at the golden retriever sitting at the foot of a heavy-set woman wearing a floral patterned sundress and staring at the wall. “Hear me well, people,” he announced. “Out of the twelve local branches, we were eleventh in production last quarter. Eleventh! Only the charity cases at Town and Country sold less than us, and they’ve been closed since November on account of the fire!” “Freaking Obama,” Sully opined. “Things will turn around once we vote that bum out of office. Just gotta ride the storm out until twenty twelve.” A deafening clanging reverberated throughout the office. All turned to see a chubby part-time agent named Herbert Dobbler ringing the sales bell for all he was worth. He wore a black t-shirt with red lettering that said I’m With @ Stupid. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dobbler shouted. “Okay, okay,” Deklan pleaded, palms out as he tried to restore order. “Can we please get back to-” “Oh Captain, my Captain,” Dobbler cried before launching another salvo with the bell. “The Dead Realtor Society is hereby called to order!” The chords on Deklan’s neck reared up like angry cobras as peels of laughter erupted from all corners of the bullpen. “Two thousand eleven … going once,” Dobbler howled. “Going twice!” Deklan blinked hard, once. A change coming over his normally genial face. “Sold,” Dobbler hollered, ringing the bell to punctuate the joke. “To the gentleman in the black robe with a scythe!” More laughter. “You know what, that’s it,” Deklan declared, his icy voice barely audible above the raucous din. “If you want to sit in your cubicles complaining about the market and the coffee all day, go right ahead, but I’m not going down with the ship!” He tore off his tie and threw it to the floor. “You want to tweet about the movie you saw last night and call it networking, be my guest,” he boomed. “You want to optimize your websites, but not answer the phone when it actually rings? Knock yourselves out!” He removed a highly polished black wingtip and hurled it across the room, causing three terrified sales associates to duck. “I bring in top shelf instructors, cater lunch for you mooches, give you all I’ve got from thirty years of sales experience in every kind of market you can dream of, and for what? For you to think about selling a house every other leap year when you’re not too busy working on your slice or stumping for Bring Your Cat to Work Day?” Deklan turned on a folding table that supported a veggie platter and tray of lukewarm cold cuts. He crammed three rolls of smoked turkey into his mouth before upending the entire spread. “Well, guess what, kids,” he resumed, Butterbean-flecked spittle bursting from his mouth. “Class is dismissed! As of five minutes ago, I no longer work at this daycare for the criminally idiotic. Good luck. Best wishes. Try not to eat the plants. Deklan out!” He tore the company nametag off the breast of his dress shirt, leaving a ragged hole in the white fabric, and stormed down the hall. One heel clicking each time it touched down on the porcelain tile, the other silent. “Make sure to wave when you greet me at Walmart next week,” Deklan shouted over his shoulder as he darted into the break room. The sound of smashing glass carried back to the bullpen. “Coffee pot,” Sheila whispered in horror. “Vending machine still owe you that Diet Coke, Arturo,” Deklan bellowed before a flying soda can exploded against the far wall of the hallway. Thirty more seconds of indiscriminate thrashing and their former manager appeared as a silhouette against the floor to ceiling window in the front lobby. He was hunched over, holding something heavy. It was his bare ass. “Look, ma! I’m the mayor of SAYONARA SUCKERS,” Deklan yelled before straightening up, ripping the fax machine off the secretary's desk and heaving it through the window, an ungodly crash punctuating the lethal shower of tinted glass. He kicked out half a dozen stubborn shards with his stockinged foot, ducked through the jagged opening and disappeared into the midday sun, leaving a faint trail of blood in his wake. A pronounced silence filled the decimated office, shell-shocked agents searching each other’s faces for confirmation of what they just saw. At last, a low, reverent whistle escaped Dobbler’s lips, breaking the spell. “Winning,” he breathed. “So,” Sully prompted his bewildered colleagues, twisting his heels into non-existent sand to practice his bunker shots. “Eight months … who had the under?” “That would be me,” Sheila answered, cracking her first smile of the year. Clarissa stood and lumbered to the water cooler without assistance, her pupils engaged and focused as she retrieved a paper cup from the dispenser. “Think downtown will wise up and hire in-house this time,” she asked between sips. “Beats me,” Perkins snickered. “But I am so tweeting this.” Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

50 Things I've Learned Since 2007

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 05:19:50 -0800

Let's face it, anyone associated with the Real Estate industry over the past few years has a story worth telling. Unwitting witnesses to the fifty car pileup that has brought gridlock upon the highway to the American Dream, we owe it to consumers and historians alike to relate our first-hand accounts of the carnage. Or at least squeeze the sweeping financial tragedy for a few yuks. Follow me back to the Scottsdale Property Shop to read up on the 50 Things I've Learned Since 2007. Because life is too short not to take comfort in the misfortune of others. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

The Definitive Scottsdale Real Estate Glossary

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 05:21:42 -0800

Ever think your Scottsdale Real Estate agent is speaking Klingon when parsing out those cryptic acronyms and assorted colloquialisms of nonsensical industry jargon? You are not alone. Typical of the human condition, we Realtor types tend to assume everyone knows what we are talking about even though most consumers only think about Real Estate when it's time to buy, sell or refinance a house. In other words, maybe once every five to seven years on average. As such, it is not surprising that there is often a disconnect between the shop-talking industry insider and the consumer who doesn't know a RESPA from a Vespa, an ARM from a leg. Thus, a project that was long overdue for our clients and soon-to-be-clients (it's easier if you don't fight), we at the Scottsdale Property Shop give to you the more or less complete glossary of local AZ Real Estate terminology. As you wouldn't expect any less (or more) of me, I've managed to slip in a few bogus definitions amongst the legitimate ones. I owe the first person who picks out all the ringers (leave your guesses in the comment section of the post, not here) a beer. Scottsdale Real Estate Terms and Definitions Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Sources: REALTOR Reintegration Scheduled for Scottsdale Market in 2013

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 11:06:53 -0800

Feb 9, 2013 09:45 AM Disassociative Press ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ SCOTTSDALE (DP) – A four year federal wildlife program to rehabilitate the sagging numbers of a local animal population has proven to be a rousing success, according to Slade Winders of the Department of Herpetology. Non-indigenous to the Sonoran Desert, Realtus Serpentes is believed to have first been introduced to Arizona shortly after the Gadsden Purchase in 1853 by a traveling circus on tour out of Toledo, OH. An aggressive reptilian known commonly as “REALTOR,” Realtus Serpentes wasted little time overrunning the desert terrain, specifically the densely populated metro areas, earning the apex predator a fast reputation as a nuisance species. Read the full report at the Scottsdale Property Shop Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

The Poltergeist Home Inspection Report

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 07:54:42 -0800

Okay, so I chickened out on losing my Rainmaker status by not posting something in 90 days. As such, here is a quarterly effort. To catch my schtick, visit me at the Scottsdale Property Shop. See you in three months, AR. __________________________________________________________________________ (1) Date of Inspection: 1/5/11 Premises: 666 S. Hanson LN, Scottsdale, AZ 85258 Client: Scheptich, Myron Present At Time of Inspection: Buyer, Buyer’s Agent, Malevolent Spirit(s) Start Time: 1:57 PM MST Weather Conditions: 72F degrees, clear skies, light winds out of the SE. *Note: Findings limited to visible observations of property condition at the time of inspection. Lemonbusters, LLC not responsible for property deficiencies discovered subsequent to the date noted on line 1 of this report. Damages for errors and omissions limited to the cost of inspection. Grounds Distinguishing Lot Characteristic: Hillside SW corner of property bisected by natural arroyo. Recommend additional investigation to determine if designated flood plain. Possible earth fissure detected in east side yard between garden and block wall along property line. Front and rear sprinkler systems detected, but not tested. Note: Homesite familiar to inspector - believes his great aunt Stella may have been buried in the atrium. Possible explanation for faulty grade present at that location. Exterior Structure Heaving to concrete slab of front sidewalk and separations at the north stem wall of the home indicate possible settling issues. Recommend further investigation by structural engineer to determine presence of expansive soil and extent of damage to foundation. ___________________________________________________________________________ (2) Main Roof Concrete tile applied over underlayment. Noted three (3) cracked tiles on southern slope (photos 1a & 1b). Vent stack penetrations require resealing. Improper flashing in valleys. Recommend evaluation and repair by licensed roofer. Garage Standard two-car stall with attached utility room. Slight discoloration in concrete noted, likely motor oil. Attic access limited by ectoplasmic resin. Ominous thumping and disembodied caterwauling in crawlspace between trusses not inspected. Water heater functional, but nearing the end of its useful life. Manufacturer's label indicates 13 years old. Unit speaks indecipherable dead language not recognized by Western civilization at the time of this inspection. Interior – Kitchen Vent stack from fan hood terminates in the attic, resulting in improper ventilation. Recommend repairs. Kitchen outlets not GFCI protected. Code did not mandate at time of construction, but recommend consultation with licensed electrician to assess safety hazard. Flooring slab appears to be notably off-level as chairs observed sliding from one end of the room to another throughout the course of the inspection. (photos 2a, 2b, 2c, 2d, 2e, 2f) Anti-tip device not installed at range/oven. Interior – Master Bath Left master sink slow draining. Tub/shower diverter valve not functional. Water shut off valves frozen at both sinks. Recommend evaluation and repairs by licensed plumber. Interior – Hall Bath Toilet runs after flushing. Literally. Recommend securing base to floor with reinforced lag bolts. Interior – Family Room Cracked picture window at west wall has breached seal and fogging between the panes. Recommend repair/replacement. Appearance of two restless apparitions noted at stairwell. Unable to make definitive age determination. __________________________________________________________________________ (3) Interior – Bedroom 2 Damage to drywall at south wall (photo 3a). Heavy staining to carpet (cosmetic) (photo 3b). Interior – Bedroom 3 Demonic entity precluded inspection of walk-in closet. Recommend seller make accessible prior to final walk-through. Air/Heat Ambient temperature allowed for unit to be tested in both heating and cooling modes. Unit functioned properly in heating mode, but did not attain optimal temperature split in cooling mode. Recommend evaluation and service by licensed HVAC tech. Electrical System (Main) Sixteen double taps (two circuits running to the same breaker) located in the main panel. Panel improperly grounded to the underworld. 220V line for the dryer improperly wired to rheostat. Multiple instances of 60W bulbs in ceiling fans and wall sconces illuminating past structural limitations and shattering. Recommend capping exposed wiring until replacement bulbs can be installed and cause determined. Reversed polarity at "half-hot" outlet in den. Improper splicing of the 110V line at the same outlet appears to power the portal to hell in the sub-floor. This would be considered faulty installation. Recommend complete evaluation of electrical system by licensed electrician. Pool “Pops” in plaster appear to represent cosmetic deterioration. Recommend monitoring for further degradation or appearance of rebar staining. Pool motor not grounded. Backwash valve leaks when activated, allowing for possible release of E.V.I.L. (known carcinogen) into the ecosystem. Recommend replacing packing nut and hosing any/all displaced life force off cool deck. Further recommend upgrading from carbon to "DH" filter to improve overall filtration and water quality. Inspection of main drain cut short by chanting and otherworldly green glow emanating beneath its housing. Original contractor appears to have only moved the head stones. Recommend licensed contractor exhume and relocate bodies of trapped spirits to undeveloped neighboring plot. Review of entire pool system required by licensed pool contractor. ___________________________________________________________________________ (4) General Observations Home is in overall good structural condition with several action items that require immediate attention. In addition to the findings noted previously in this report, inspector recommends burning sage in all four corners of each room and consulting with licensed shaman for proper incantation/invoking of ancestors. As exorcism typically falls outside the scope of standard home warranty policies, recommend paying for extended Max Von Sydow coverage. Dead cypress tree outside bedroom 3 window too close to structure. Possible root penetration and moisture damage to foundation. This species of tree has been known to come to life during violent thunderstorms and devour children. Recommend consultation with professional arborist about relocating elsewhere on the premises. In the event “they’re here” or ever become “here,” inspector recommends professional remediation by licensed exterminator. Front door latch sticks. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Lemonbusters, LLC is a division of WTF? Inspections, Inc (subsidiary of Def Door Jam Productions). *Lemonbusters is not responsible for supernatural occurrences and/or the actions/findings of our referral partners in the psychic realm. Should your home be declared clean by a third party affiliate, Lemonbusters, LLC is in no way liable should your child subsequently be attacked and dragged under his/her bed by a maniacal clown. *Lemonbusters recommends consulting a specialist prior to going into and/or staying away from the light. *Please direct any and all questions regarding this report to the Department of You're Screwed. Congratulations, and good luck with your new home! Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Agents Are From Mars, Consumers Are From Venus

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 11:53:15 -0700

It is human nature to view oneself in terms of value, and others in terms of cost. This paradox is never more evident than in a business setting. No exception to the rule, Real Estate agents and consumers must coexist in an arena of disparate interests and subjective truths. In the search for common ground, full transparency is prerequisite. Let us peel back the veneer on the agent/consumer dynamic to uncover overlapping tenets of these competing psyches. Only through complete understanding of each other's motivation can we better function as one cohesive unit. What agents look for in their clients Buyers: Ideally you will be a type A personality. You know exactly what you want in a house, and you do not deviate from script. If you cannot find what you want in your price range, you open up the purse strings further or you start eliminating wants until you find the closest facsimile of the perfect home. As you require no outside validation of the wisdom of your decisions, multiple trips to the home that appears to be “the one” are unnecessary. You will know it on sight, and eschew the stamp of approval from mom & dad, sister Rebecca and the guy from accounting whose cousin was licensed in Indiana seventeen years ago. You adopt my negotiation strategy as your own and forward documents to your lender that have not been requested yet. You invite me to the housewarming party and introduce me to the assembled guests as “the man.” You flag down random people in the street and tell them to call me if they ever so much as think of buying a house. Sellers: Four years of home ownership have mellowed you considerably. Now entrenched in the type B camp, you require a spotter when double knotting your shoes. You pull over in traffic when cars get too close, and you don’t answer the front door for fear that you will purchase yet another set of encyclopedias from the nice salesman who won’t take no for an answer. You cower when I produce the latest sales data from the neighborhood, and thank me when the mathematical beating isn’t as severe as you had anticipated. You don’t question why I no longer advertise in magazines or newspapers, and offer to paint and recarpet the house just prior to listing it for 10k less than my suggested price. You thank buyers for coming when they show up unannounced and leave the country when given advanced notice of a showing. Venezuela sure is nice this time of year. You greet the news of a roof that fails inspection with, “Whatever,” and cheerfully reduce the price by 15k. You show up for the closing with Cuban cigars and a 5k agent bonus. What consumers look for in their agents Buyer’s Agents: You will show me every g&^%#n house between here and Pluto if I ask you to and won’t pry into my finances. I already told you I’m good for it. Be a good little agent and open some doors for me. I’ll do the rest. You’ll happily kick me back half of your fee, overpaid cabbie that you are, because you didn’t really do anything. If I want to offer 250k on a 500k short sale, don’t argue with me. I’ll paint this whole town with magenta ink over the course of the next two years if that’s what it takes to find a dance partner. Hope you’ve got your contract writing hand limber over there, Scooter, because it's macarena time. And since I’m dropping every frigging cent I have into the down payment on this joint, a new refrigerator at closing wouldn’t go unnoticed. Or at least a box of chocolates and a smooch, you cheap SOB. Listing Agents: I’ve already been on Zillow. I know what it’s worth. I’ll give you twenty bucks to put it on the MLS. Twenty five if you sell it above current appraisal within one hour. Be a champ and send me daily receipts of your advertising expenses so I can verify that you are meeting the 10k per week quota that will get us noticed. You keep telling me that no one uses print advertising anymore, but it couldn’t hurt, right? My great aunt Mildred purchased her first house in 1946 off an ad in the penny saver. Don’t tell me it’s not in the budget when there’s eighty thousand dollar’s worth of foreign SUV parked in front of my house right now. Oh, and turn off the f*^%g lights after showings. Conclusion: Humans are inherently flawed and destined to nuke the earth over a Yahtzee dispute. Capitalistic Kumbaya in the Real Estate sector remains as likely as Gigli II. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!

Pocket

Paul Slaybaugh, Scottsdale, AZ Real Estate (Homesmart) — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 08:28:49 -0700

There is a hole in my front pocket. At least, I think there is. What other explanation for the coins and keepsakes that litter the ground in my wake? Marking the passage of otherwise inaudible footfalls. What started with the occasional lost memento - a nickel here, a baby tooth there - grows larger with each step. As do the forfeited items. Ticket stubs to shows I’d never forget. An imperfect conch shell that whispered of perfect faraway lands. First dances. Last rites. Every new deposited curiosity forcing an older one out of the bottom. In time, the collectibles will barely ripple the frayed fabric as they pass straight through these faded jeans. I’ll turn to retrieve all that was lost, only to find a history scattered to the winds. And she’ll pull me from the reverie with a gentle squeeze of my hand. A sly smile to coax one more block out of tired legs. For more trinkets await discovery around the next bend. Happy Anniversary, babe. I love you. Your source for Scottsdale Real Estate since the dawn of time ... or thereabouts. Launch your Scottsdale Home Search now!