Monday, April 02, 2007

Get Real

I have worked as an assistant for several new york city real estate brokers. I have my license, but I work for other brokers because I don't want to do it full time. I couldn't look back on my life and say I negotiated real estate transactions for a living. Not like I'm saving AIDS babies in Africa, but still, there's so many more important things to do. And besides, so many of the moneyed people you work with live inside the bubble of an absurd small world.

I worked an Open House on the Upper West Side yesterday. The apartment was adorable, prewar detail, charming, just 10 feet from Central Park. However, it didn't have a doorman. Most people I know don't have doormen. Frankly, I wouldn't want a doorman-- they know all your business. What do you have delivered for dinner? How often do you go to the gym? How about all those hookers you ordered for your birthday? Your doorman knows it all.

So this apartment, adorable as it was, had potential buyers' panties in a bunch. "No doorman?" one woman wailed, "Then who would receive my dry cleaning?" In the coma of her Upper West Side solipsism, this is a legitimate worry. Like there's not hundreds of thousands of dead in Darfur. Like there's not a senseless war going on in Iraq. Who would receive her dry cleaning? "You'd have to receive it yourself," I said, and she marched out. "That's a dealbreaker."

No comments: