I found it!
Yesterday I told you about my first 8-second WHY ME.
A kid of 19. Green as a goose. Selling real estate. My first “professional” job.
NO! Day after day that’s what I heard.
NO! A very discouraging word.
What to do? Chubby advised,
“Greg, you need an 8-second WHY ME. It’s got to be an IRRESISTIBLE reason why you (and only you) should be the ONLY choice to sell anyone’s home.”
What did I do?
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Yesterday I reminisced about getting started in real estate. 19 years old. Inexperienced. Zero reputation. Lacking cred. It showed.
“NO” was the only word I heard.
Day after day, appointment after appointment, the answer was NO. Sellers wanted experience. NO ONE wanted a fresh off the press, green as a goon, newbie.
As usual, Chubby came to the rescue. He told me I needed an indisputable “WHY ME.” Something so easy to understand that people would “get it” in eight seconds.
Melanie and her dad, John.
Ocean Beach, San Francisco (2011)
“Dad help, please hurry,” I cried. Like a shot, he bolted from the house. I was stretched out on the ground.
The newborn bird looked like a misshapen worm. Eyes sealed. His translucent flesh pale pink, all puckered and worn. Jagged pieces of shell lay spread in the grass. His mom surely figured him dead.
As soon as I called, Dad ran out and dove to the ground. He hurt like I hurt. He felt what I felt. He became me. READ MORE
Lise’s mom, Joyce, and dad, Ralph.
They were married 48 years.
Lise takes it from here:
Mom became terminally ill. The road to the end was brutal and long. Dad stopped work and stayed home. Caring for Mom was his full-time job. His business folded. We lived off savings.
Mom loved it at home. Dad would have it no other way.
Friends and family helped, but Dad was “on duty” ’round the clock.
In the final two weeks, we moved Mom to Hospice. She needed professional care. READ MORE
Dad, Les and his successful young son, Tom Hopkins.
As a student, I was never at the top of my class. Still, my parents struggled to save money to send me to college. I dutifully attended – for 90 days – then decided it wasn’t for me. I quit and went home.
After their sacrifice, my parents weren’t pleased with my decision. My father told me,
“Son, I will always love you. But, you will never amount to anything without a college education.”
It was 1942. Bob was 35, a civil engineer for the Army Corps of Engineers.
(Left to right) Barbara’s older brother Bobby, Barbara, Mom (Reva), Dad (Bob), younger brother Barry.
World War II was ramping up. Dad was working on the Panama Canal. Mom, a teacher, was also stationed there. They married in Panama. I was born there.
After Panama, we traveled the world. Japan, as Dad helped to rebuild after the war. Iran, though we would leave as trouble erupted over the border in Iraq. Hawaii. Germany. We circled the globe.
Dad could do anything. Except one thing. Dad refused to fly…he’d take the slow boat.
Savvy Dad, you write often about sons. I am a daughter.
Sons can be jerks. Let’s call this jerk “Brad”.
He was not my first love. He was my first jerk.
Courtney and Dad, John in Rich Valley,VA long ago.
I was 23. Brad did a number on me.
Teaching English In Prague, I was living far from home. I’d just been jilted. I felt like I’d been kicked to the curb. Now, sitting at the top of a staircase, I was spying on Brad. What I observed I expected. It was not what I had hoped.
My dad had just flown in for a visit. He didn’t know. The moment I saw him, I crumbled, “Brad stole my heart, Dad. He siphoned my money, took all that I had. We dated a few months. He said he was temporarily short. I started picking up tabs. He said he lost his job. I opened my home. READ MORE