#downeyproperties

There is a dirt road in Bihar, India that cuts through a 300 foot mountain. The road is 30 feet wide and 360 feet in length with the cliffs extending 25 feet into the air.  It connects a small village to a nearby town providing the residents with access to doctors, schools, food and supplies. It is a humble road, unmarked with any signs of the incredible story behind it’s creation. 

In 1960, after his wife was injured while scaling the rocky footpaths of the village, Dashrath Manjhi had to travel 70 km to reach the nearest hospital.  

Upon his return to the village, he decided and shorter path needed to be created, and so he sold his three goats and began a 22 year construction project to carve a road through a mountain.  

When he began, he was called a madman.  

From 1960 to 1982, Manji worked from early evening until late in the night, using fire to heat the rocks.  He would then douse them with water which cracked the boulders.   With his sledge hammer and crowbar, Manji reduced the hillside to rubble hauling it away inch by inch, stone by stone. 

The impossible, made possible.  One man chipping away at a mountain to benefit the people of his village.

The Navy Seals have a little joke that asks: 

“How do you eat an elephant?” ”One bite at a time.”

This phrase serves only to point out that impossible things only seem impossible when you stand back and look at them from the perspective that something is too large or to hard or to complicated.

Last February, when I made the decision to take on the real estate world, it never occurred to me I would fail.  I didn’t look at the mountain or the elephant.  I didn’t look at the 400 page text book and think I wouldn’t be able to accomplish the task. I took the mountain of knowledge page by page, chapter by chapter and studied the information the instructor provided.   

Unlike Manjhi, I did not do it alone, my wife, my parents, my friends all pushed me.  They offered financial and emotional support so I could be where I am today.  After I completed the course, there were other milestones to face, other mountains to reduce to rubble with my fire and my crowbar.  I had to learn the business of real estate, I had to learn to market myself and compete with 16,000 other agents in the Charlotte area.  I had to stand out and I had to be different.  It’s not easy to get up everyday and create content for social media.  It’s disheartening to see your blog only has 10 followers, and you wonder, why should I write this, if no one will read the words? It’s not easy to feel like the work you are doing is for nothing.  There is rejection and frustration and emails from people who simply don’t want your help.  Your flyers and business cards go into the trash, and the ad you created gets skipped over.  

It’s hard to be told no over and over again, or told what you are doing is the wrong approach and that’s not the way it’s done.   

It’s hard to be called a madman. 

And then, your phone rings and a friendly voice mentions your name.   A referral from a friend or an email comes through congratulating you on your closing. On your desk is a ‘Thank You’ note from the mortgage lender of your last transaction who is writing to simply tell you what a wonderful job you did. 

On Facebook, a stranger recommends you as a local expert and you see your marketing video getting 2,000 views.  Suddenly, those voices once doubting you are praising your approach. Quickly, the villagers can see your progress, and like magic, there is a road before them, they could not see before.  Little by little, I have made my way through this process.  I did not do it alone and there are many people to thank.   However, I am doing it my way.  Which may not be the right way.  It may not be the way other’s have done it or the way other’s with do it in the future.  But this is my road.  

We all have that one thing we love that some other set of friends doesn’t quite follow.   For some it’s comic books & superhero movies, for other’s it’s sci-fi.  Perhaps you enjoy collecting stamps, stuffed unicorns or retro toys.    Some people keep their obsessions well hidden and don’t discuss it for fear of ridicule.  Other’s, like myself, display their weakness in the living room.  

Ever since I was a child, I have loved records.  My father had a large collection of vinyl that eventually gathered dust, became obsolete and was stuffed away in a closet.  Like with nearly everything, my father and I disagreed on what constitutes “good” music.   He preferred the folk stylings of The Kingston Trio, The Brother’s Four, and The Village Stompers.   He also had albums from Mel Torme, Andy Williams and Burt Bacharach.  Needless to say, I wasn’t rockin’ out to any of these, however, he did have a handful of albums which I still have in my collection today.   The Beatles White Album, Let it Be and Abbey Road, Simon & Garfunkle, Neil Diamond and Ray Charles.    I started collecting records in the early 2000′s by accident.  I was working in the restaurant business and had lived in a one bedroom flat in Charlotte.  Not having a lot of money for decorations, I framed and hung my father’s old albums on the wall.  For some reason, people thought I collected records, and started giving me old albums.  Eventually, I bought a record player and realized it brought back so many memories of playing vinyl with my father, and listening to his old Smother’s Brother’s Comedy albums. 

Bouncing around from restaurant to restaurant and working my way up from busboy to salad prep to line cook to server to bartender, I eventually managed to land a job as the Assistant General Manager for a high end latin restaurant in downtown Charlotte.  Tyrece Ussery was the general manager at the time, and over the next two years, we would work together and become friends.  He was even in my wedding. 

Eventually, I left the restaurant business to become a location manager in the film industry.   Tyrece followed me into that profession and he’s now a respected assistant director.   For 15 years, I worked in film, first as an actor for commercials and then moving into production and then locations.   All the while, Ty and I had many adventures and conversations.   A great deal of those conversations revolved around music, and he has a wonderful wealth of knowledge about jazz, funk and rock.   

When North Carolina abandoned the 25% tax incentive for television and film, it became nearly impossible for me to find work and I made the choice to become a real estate agent.   

While I missed working with Ty on set, we made it a point to get our families together of birthdays, cookouts, UNC basketball games and afternoon beers.  Which is why the call I got from him a few months ago wasn’t a surprise.   He invited me for coffee to talk about life and catch up, which wasn’t out of the ordinary.  What was a little surprising was his request for me to represent him as his Realtor®. I’ve never been to prom or had anyone ask me to marry them, but I can imagine what that feeling must be like now.   No, I didn’t jump up and down like a girl or cry, but I did get butterflies.  After almost three months, I’m EXTREMELY excited today for Ty and Tiffanny who closed on their new home.   The best part?  Their new house is right around the corner from us, and we can spend more time perusing my record collection.  

Thank you Ty for being a friend and for letting me work for you and Tiffanny to help you close on your new home. 

Tell me if you’ve heard this one.

  Teacher- Where have you heard the word "momentum" before? Student- In sports Teacher- Ok, so if one team scores a touchdown, gets an interception, and the whole game is going their way, what does that mean? Student- They're playing the Giants

I don’t follow the NFL, so I’m not sure if the joke still applies to the Giants or not.  You can substitute whichever team applies these days and make the joke relevant.  

In Newtonian mechanics, linear momentum, translational momentum, or simply...momentum (pl. momenta) is the product of the mass and velocity of an object. It is a three-dimensional vector quantity, possessing a magnitude and a direction.

Obviously, the Newtonian mechanics definition found on wikipedia is far less exciting than the actual momentum shift during a sporting event that seems to pulse throughout the entire stadium.  

In my personal opinion, college basketball offers the most visible and tangible example of a momentum shift.  Momentum shifts in college basketball manifest themselves in quick 10 point runs that either put a team ahead at the drop of a hat, or the more exciting shift of making a comeback in the final two minutes of the game to overcome a seemingly impossible deficit.

Starting your own business is an exercise in momentum.  Gaining momentum, maintaining momentum, regaining momentum.

Every opportunity to take advantage of this physical force needs to be exploited to your advantage.    Figuring all of those things out is challenging.  Especially when you’re new or if you’re taking your shot at an industry in which you have not yet mastered, but are working as hard as you can to succeed.

The success I have today did not just happen.  The closing I have today is a butterfly effect that began with a simple conversation miles away from my office.  A stranger whom I have never met asked my friend Mason Reuter to help with finding a realtor and my name was provided.  There are 15,999 other names that Mason could have given in that moment, and yet, he trusted me. He put his faith in my ability as a Charlottean and as a Realtor® in the The Queen City to find his co-worker the right home.

That’s a humbling thought. Not only for the trust placed in me, but also for the importance to my family.  A referral from anyone means I can potentially support my family.  I can pay my bills, I can buy clothes and food and my son can play little league.  

It’s likely Mason would understand those realities on a certain level.  It’s unlikely he placed as much importance on it as I do.  It’s likely he doesn’t know how indebted I am to people like him, who trust me enough to chose me over the other 15,999 agents they could have referred.

Each referral possess magnitude.  Each referral gives me direction, and isn’t that the definition of momentum?

If my dad had a rubber toe, his name would be Roberto. This is a family twist on a classic dad joke.  My dad’s name is Robert, so this joke works on two levels.  However, my father goes by Bob, which set’s him up for another twist on a classic dad joke.

What do you call my dad in the pool?  Bob. 

You see, in November of last year, he was diagnosed with ALS, which means he can’t use his arms.  While this twist may seem quite dark, it’s the exact type of humor my dad would appreciate.  

At a very young age, my father introduced me to Monty Python, the Smother’s Brothers, Laurel & Hardy, and Abbot & Costello.  While some of the humor of these comedy icons is based on slapstick, I was always more drawn to use of words and the twists they would put on things to make a situation funny.

If you look at that list, very few of them used standard “punch lines”.   Laurel & Hardy were mostly based in physical comedy, however, it was the clever use of props and the seemingly impossible way Stan would fumble his way through a particular gag.   Abbot & Costello penned the universally known ‘Who’s on First’ routine.  It still holds up today, and could easily go down in history as one of the greatest use of words to create a joke of all time.  It’s safe to say very few people of my generation know who the Smother’s Brothers are, but my dad and I used to listen to them on vinyl and on old VHS tapes.   Their musical abilities and subtle jabs at the ABC censors flew so far under the radar at the time it’s hard to believe they got away with the material.

While I always enjoyed the aforementioned troupes, the absurdity of Monty Python and the genius of their wit will always be my personal favorite.   The twisted views on religion, their sarcasm and thumbing their noses at British society are exceptionally intelligent.  Long after my father as sunk to the deep end of the pool, I will cherish the memories of us laughing at The Holy Grail while my mother shook her head and ate her popcorn unamused. 

You see, it’s simply not for everyone.  Like Scotch, you either appreciate it for what it is and you understand it on a deeper level, or you spit it through the air and question why anyone would drink liquid dirt.

When The Holy Grail was released in the theaters, my dad took my uncle Skip to see it telling him it was hilarious and genius and the best comedy movie he’s ever seen.   Twenty minutes into the film, my dad is laughing hysterically while my uncle got up and walked out.  I’m sure his exact words were, “I don’t get it.” What I think would help those of you who don’t get this sort of humor, like “Dad Jokes”, is that often times it’s not the joke or the word’s or the punch line that’s funny, rather it’s the reaction to it.  

A perfect example is the film Bull Durham.    In the first 15 minutes of the film, Ebby Calvin Laloosh unleashes an inside fastball that drills the right handed batter square in the back.   The wild pitch is bad.  The wild pitch isn’t funny.  Hitting the batter isn’t funny.  None of that is funny.   What IS funny is the sound of air leaving the batters lungs as he groans and takes his base.  It’s funny, because that is exactly sound you make when a 95 mile per hour fast ball drills you in the ribs. I can tell you from first hand experience, it’s not funny.  But the reality of this scene and the sound the batter makes is down right hilarious. 

Dad jokes are bad.  Dad jokes aren’t funny.  The punch lines aren’t funny.  What’s funny are the moans and groans of the listener.  The reaction of the listener to the unbelievably bad joke IS the joke, not the joke itself.  

Anytime I mention my grandfather’s name, Clarence O. Kuester, Jr., inevitably, the very next words I hear are “Oh, I loved your grandfather”.  Even my best friend Tonto, who doesn’t really like old people, loved my grandfather.

That’s saying something. 

There is no question, Clarence Kuester, Jr. was a spectacular gentleman, who was adored by literally everyone.  He was charming, intelligent, well dressed and wise.  He always gave the most extraordinary advice with a soft and soothing voice.  It’s difficult to describe my grandfather’s voice.  He had a slight southern drawl with just a hint of British dialect.   The only voice that seems to come close to his would be ‘Winnie the Pooh’.  Which may sound funny, but it’s true.

When my sister, the eldest grandchild, was born my elegant grandfather wanted his grandchildren to call him “GRANDFATHER”.   It has a ring of sophistication and aristocracy.  It’s well suited for a man of his taste.

The only problem was, my sister couldn’t manage the mouthful and when she would attempt “Grandfather”,  the only thing that came out was, “Fädder”.   To his credit, Clarence didn’t give up. He would sit with Ashley and get close to her face repeating, “GRAAAND FAAATHER”, over and over.  

It was no use.   From 1971 until the day he died, he was our Fädder.  

What he didn’t realize at the time, was my sister had given him a gift.  The word Fädder translated from Norwegian means Mentor.  A fädder, by baptism in Norwegian society is also called God's grandfather or “godfather”.  A Fädder is a person who has a special responsibility to take care of another.

Being one of eight Kuester grandchildren was one of the best childhoods you could have imagined.   I think it’s safe to speak for the other seven when I say, we were all extremely close. We were more like (and still are more like) siblings.  While not one of us is surprised by how respected and loved our grandfather was throughout his life. There is a level of awe to which it holds.  

When I was working in the film industry scouting for homes in the Charlotte area, inevitably, I would knock on the door of a longtime Charlottean who might have been hesitant to listen to my “Hollywood” sales pitch.  All it took for me to gain their trust was to ask them if they knew “Clarence Kuester”? and two minutes later I’d be having tea chatting about where the cameras would be set up and making plans to shoot a movie inside their home. 

Over the years, I’ve learned that what other people think of you is out of your control to a large degree.  In the end, people will draw their own opinions of you based on their own perceptions.  Ultimately, it is of little consequence.   Still, it would be nice to be held in such regard.  

The goal is to be referred.  The goal is to have others hear your name and immediately think of you as the person to call to help solve whatever concern they may have.   

I like to think of myself as a solid problem solver.   When I worked in the film industry they called me “The Fixer”, because anytime there was an issue with the neighbors or something had to be accomplished quickly, they knew I would fix the situation. 

Since becoming a real estate agent, I’ve had to figure out how to get people to think of me as a real estate agent.  The objective moving forward is to have my name be the first to come to mind when my friends, family and acquaintances hear someone has real estate needs.   

Perhaps the reason they don’t is because I have had my fair share of careers; TV associate producer, restaurant manager, event planner, location manager, photographer.  It’s not their fault they can’t keep track of what I’m doing.   Well, today that’s gonna stop.   In 1936, an anti-drug propaganda film was released called ‘Reefer Madness’.  It’s completely over the top and hilarious.   We had a copy of it on VHS when I was in college at Appalachian State.     The other day I was thinking about how to get more referrals, and for some reason that movie poster popped in my head, and I felt the need to create this for your enjoyment, and for your referrals!   

Do not take off all your clothes.

Last week, I wrote an article nearly one person read (thanks mom) about the lack of inventory for homes in the 150k-300k range and the shift in the areas in which certain demographics have begun looking for homes.  

With the expansion of the light rail towards UNCC, more home buyers under the age of 30 are seeing the benefit of buying property with a little more room to grow a family while maintaining access to the breweries along South Boulevard and the night life of downtown.  (I’m a Charlotte Native, trust me it’s ‘Downtown’)  There’s also a mindset shift by aging baby boomers who are too cool for retirement communities.  They are seeing ‘Surban’ areas differently, with less driving, no yard work, and access to shops, restaurants and workout facilities.  

Now that I’ve recapped the article you didn’t read, I can move on to the four hottest neighborhoods in Charlotte and the super boring graphs you’ve been dying to see. 

Above, you can see the decline in Charlotte’s inventory.  Depressing, right?  I mean if you’re into graphs, this is so sad.  If you’re a buyer right now in the Charlotte market you’ve probably thrown your hands up in frustration at least twice today.   What that graph means for sellers is multiple offers, total sales prices at or above asking price, and overall time to pop the champagne.  

POP! 

Did you hear that?  Another home closed in less than 24 hours (well) over asking price.    Average sales prices in the Charlotte area are up 13.2% from 2016.    If you’ve ever considered selling your home, now is the time to do it.    

Who want’s more graphs?

If you’re wondering which four zip codes are currently experiencing the largest growth over the last three years, you might be surprised.  28205 barely made the top 10 and 28211 isn’t even on the list!  Shocking, I know.