for, and we found it. Soon, however, we realized that San Diego was appealing, but if we really wanted to find high-paying work, we had to move to Los Angeles.
We moved north to Woodland Hills, California, and immediately pored over the local newspaper in search of employment and a place to live. At first, we had trouble finding an apartment. The problem wasn’t supply—there was plenty of housing. But with no furniture, no jobs, no personal references, and New York license plates, we had difficulty convincing landlords that we would be stable tenants.
We finally found a place to live, and Saeed landed a job with a local engineering firm. At the same time, he was also making arrangements for his family to move to the United States from Iran. Political instability was making life there more and more difficult, and his family knew that trouble was ahead.
Meanwhile, I looked for work in nearby Van Nuys. I gave up cookware sales and entered an employment agency. Scanning the workspace, with its padded cubicles and fluorescent lighting, I saw that I was clearly the youngest person there. At 22 and fresh out of college, I was surrounded by women in their 40s. After interviewing me, the manager asked if I would be interested in becoming a career counselor. “Who would counsel whom?” I thought. After all, I entered the office in search of career guidance myself.
My next significant job came as a result of a car accident that Saeed and I had during a trip to San Diego. After the collision, friends suggested that we meet with an attorney. During our appointment, the lawyer wanted to know details about the accident and what our current employment status was. I let him know that I had recently quit my job because the office had moved too far from my home. He then gave us a chance to ask him questions. Afterwards, the attorney shared that he was impressed with what I had asked regarding the accident.
“Your questions were better than what most attorneys would want to know. Are you sure you’re only 24?” I recall him asking.
At the end of the meeting, he offered me a job. “Earlier you said you weren’t working…Well, consider yourself employed now,” he said. He explained that he had been in search of a legal secretary.
I shared that I knew shorthand but nothing about the legal field. He showed no concern. “I trust my instincts and have a good feeling about you. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he said.
I started work the following week. At his office, I was responsible for transcribing tapes. Every day, I was the first one there. During the first few days, five tapes waited for me on my desk. I slid them into the machine, listened, typed, and completed all of my work by the end of the day.
Soon, there were six tapes, followed by seven. The workload became intense, but I knew that I had a task to complete, and I didn’t leave until it was done.
One day a colleague pulled me aside. “Myra, the girls and I have been talking,” I recall her saying. “We can’t believe that you’re doing seven tapes a day. At this rate there’ll be eight waiting for you by the end of the week. Honey, slow down.”
From that conversation, I discovered that my co-workers were only completing two or three tapes per day—not six or seven. Just like in the past, I realized that when I didn’t know any better, I exceeded other’s expectations of me.
After I became pregnant with my first child, Nicole, the waterless cookware, employment counseling, and legal work were replaced with diapers, children’s books, and sleepless nights of motherhood—being a mom was a full-time job.
My maternal responsibilities grew with the birth of Howard and then Michael. I spent the next many years raising my three children. Once they were school age, they were active in sports, music, acting, and art classes. The responsibility of juggling three schedules while making sure that homework was completed and meals were prepared honed my time-management skills—something that would prove invaluable a few years later.
As my children became more independent, Saeed began encouraging me to re-enter the workforce. The thought piqued my interest, but I was reluctant. So many years spent raising my kids made me doubt my ability to succeed at anything else. But my husband knew I had been a successful salesperson throughout my early adult life. I took his encouragement seriously; Saeed had established a real estate brokerage in Beverly Hills, and he was a formidable judge of character.
In 1988, I took the plunge, passed the exam, and became a licensed broker. Since then, I’ve moved forward with the same determination that pushed my husband and me to drive from Buffalo to San Diego 14 hours at a time. I’m thankful that my husband motivated me to become a broker. As a result, real estate has become one of my life’s passions.
Throughout these pages, you’ll read about the experiences that shaped my career and what I’ve learned during my nearly 20 years in this business. I’ve had my share of disappointments, but the lessons I’ve learned from my setbacks have made me wonder whether there’s such a thing as a bad experience. Based on that perspective, I can confidently say that my successes far outweigh any difficulties, and my accomplishments have greatly surpassed all my expectations.
Whether you’re a mother of three who has never sold a piece of property in your life or a seasoned professional, there’s something in here for you. In this book, you’ll read about my method to success in real estate sales. This business can be complicated, and it will be stressful at times. But how you’ll get there is simple. It starts with these three words: Be an expert.
Chapter 1
What Brings You Here?
When I started out, I was a newly licensed broker who had never before sold a piece of property. And it had been years since I had worked full time at all. I had prior sales experience, but selling waterless cookware to brides as a 22-year-old was one thing—multi-million-dollar homes was another. Now that I was a real estate salesperson, I had to figure out where to begin.
Perhaps you’ve decided to become a real estate agent after working in a completely unrelated field. At this point, you may be asking yourself, “Is this the right profession for me?”
For instance, you may have been an actor or schoolteacher, and now you’ve decided to become a full-time broker. Or you may have relocated—you were working in another area, maybe even another state, and you’ve left your contacts behind. Perhaps you’ve been a full-time homemaker, but now that your kids are grown, you’ve decided to start a real estate career. Or perhaps you’ve recently divorced or lost a spouse and have chosen real estate as a new career.
Whatever your circumstances, you know that you’re capable and motivated. But you may not have a client list, connections, or database that will bring you business right away. At the same time, if you think hard about whom you know, you may be pleasantly surprised. You may already have a contact list comprising of family members, friends, and acquaintances.
In 1988, I took the exam to become a real estate broker. When I look back, passing the test was the easy part. The real work involved
