The San Diego Home Blog

Steve recently wrote:

Since Kris always seems to steal my best and most creative post ideas (without giving me credit) I am, again, left only with the dry statistics to present to you. Please know that for next month I plan to add some fun and pizazz to this otherwise very rote, but important exercise.

First of all, blasphemy! Secondly, I know a call to arms when I see it. So this morning, with the help of our friends at Altos Research, I am out to steal his thunder. Here are your current Scripps Ranch real estate market trends.

This is the 90-day rolling average for single-family detached homes in Scripps Ranch, San Diego (92131).

This 90-day rolling average of median price per square foot is similar to the overall median.

The last down blip is questionable but, ignoring that, the chart is right-on. This is the 7-day rolling average, and this morning our Scripps Ranch inventory sits at 110 homes for sale (detached).

Again, the seven day rolling average, and market times are climbing in late Spring, somewhat of a seasonal anomaly.

If I could figure out why I keep getting an error message on the market action index chart, I would post that too. The market action index, which measures demand relative to supply, suggests we are still in a “warm seller’s market” (by the skin of our teeth). For now, you will have to take my word for it.

And, now for a final bit of “pizazz”:

So, take that, Steve!

“We’re the best, Earth and Heaven, Senior class of seventy-…”

Oh my gawd!!! That can only mean one thing - It’s High School Reunion time!

My friends and loved ones, had they really cared, would have stopped me. They would have administered the saliva test and kept me off that plane, but it’s too late. The flight is booked, as is the spacious room at the Sugarland Dreary Drury Inn, and there is no turning back.

A month or so again, Austin Realtor’s Wife got wind of the upcoming torture-fest and suggested it might be “fun” to chronicle the event. Yeah, “fun” as in “I’m 20-something, and you’re So Not”! Most posts, I can wind my way through the confused circuitry of my brain to draw at least a loose real estate parallel. Not so today. It is what it is, it is fewer than two weeks away, and it is panic time.

High school reunion time is time for reflection and, naturally, regrets: Regrets that I should have spent a little less time obsessing over real estate and a little more time embracing Botox, regrets that I didn’t invent Post-It Notes (oops - wrong reunion). As if on cue, the moment the event notice was published, I became walking proof of Newton’s Law (the one about gravity, not motion), the few underdeveloped skeletal muscles I had previously possessed fled my body in unison (presumably doing a bee-line for Matthew McConaughey’s abs), and I became the host of choice for the entire planetary wrinkle population. Why just one of them couldn’t have picked Sharon Stone, I will never know. There’s plenty of room at the inn.

High school reunions are a love-hate thing, and my high school loves them. They throw a bash every five years, but this one takes on a sense of urgency to many of us among our aging Boomer generation. Every one could be the last. And I hate them, but I keep going back like a perpetrator to the crime scene, just begging for trouble.

Unlike much of my class, I am absentee and have been since day one. I don’t keep in touch, so after the initial how-are-you-I-am-fine-my-child-is-a-prodigy’s, I am out of small talk. We could take a walk down memory lane, but at this point I honestly don’t remember anything about those years (except the time we drove off in my Belvedere with the seven-foot plywood Long John Silver from the local fast-food eatery in my back seat, but that is a story for another day). Failing memory aside, it generally starts to come back after the first drink, as in “Why in the h*&* did I pop for Alamo’s mid-sized compact for this? I could be in Aruba.”

So where am I fixin’ to go? A few hints, and y’all are welcome to play along at home:

• Names of my classmates included Lanny, Wade and Travis, and I knew this because their names were on their belt-buckles.
• The girls all had BIG hair. Your hair would be big, too, if you emptied an entire can of Alberto Vo5 on it and proceeded to stand in a sauna for the remainder of your formative years.
• The men loved their mammas but only a little bit more than Bum Phillips, and wore big hats, but never indoors; the women did not wear big hats because they wouldn’t fit over their big hair.
• My high school town was the Land O’ Strip Malls (due to the absence of zoning laws), drive-through liquor stores and the two-step. It was the “birthplace” of ZZ Top, the Little Band from Tex…

Dang it, I gave it away. Strictly speaking, my high school was in Alief. Their Chamber of Commerce must be amazing; this once unincorporated oasis of two-lane roads and bayous is now proudly a part of the fine City of Houston, no doubt due to the mass appeal of stifling humidity, cockroaches the size of water buffalo, and wide-open spaces.

To anyone contemplating attending their high school reunion, as one who has been there, I will tell you how it ends. The unpopular kids all got rich, the Most Likely to Succeed is working at In-N-Out, the unattractive are now gorgeous and the gorgeous are now, well, not. You will still like the people you liked, and the reasons you didn’t like the others will be reinforced. For me, the two-week clock is ticking, and I will report back from the abyss. Oh, for those who weren’t math majors, “heaven” rhymes with “thirty”. Yee-haw!

Decisions, decisions. When I have something I want to write about, I am faced with the decision of where to put it. Of course, “here” would be a logical place, but I also contribute to the Bloodhound Blog. Usually, the answer of “where” is self-evident. The Bloodhound has a more industry-based audience and tends to deal with issues of broader, national import, while our San Diego Home Blog is more locally-focused. If that’s not enough, we now have the Scripps Ranch Home Blog to feed, which is our newest, hyper-local endeavor. (More on that in a future post).

 I was coached early on that the Google Gods tend to smite duplicate content, and the punished would be the blog with “less authority”. (I still am a little fuzzy on how authority is measured, but suffice it to say that we at the San Diego Home Blog are the children of a lesser God). So every now and then, when I have an article which could easily go “here” or “there”, I have to play my own version of Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Moe, and “there” usually wins.

This morning I posted my thoughts on information versus knowledge as they relate to real estate and the Internet. Since each site shares a subset of readers in common, I will save some of you the trouble of linking. If, on the other hand, you are not a Bloodhound reader, then let’s not waste a perfectly good effort. Read it here  (or “there”, as the case may be). But… you have to promise you will come back when you have finished.

Top ten signs your agent needs a life:

10. Begins each day by checking family dog for termites.

9. Children are asked to provide a prequal letter before dinner will be served.

8. Children refer her as their Loan Officer.

7. Refers to children as the Uncooperative Tenants.

6. Note to school excusing child’s absence includes Mediation/Arbitration clause.

5. All she remembers about the movie American Beauty is that Annette Bening was a RE/MAX agent.

4. The last movie she saw was American Beauty.

3. Garage sale items are given Value Range pricing.

2. Has sock drawer on lockbox.

1. Expresses her age as Days on Market.

Since Kris always seems to steal my best and most creative post ideas (without giving me credit) I am, again, left only with the dry statistics to present to you. Please know that for next month I plan to add some fun and pizazz to this otherwise very rote, but important exercise. Since I have little (no) pride of authorship, I welcome any ideas or comments that would help me to creatively enhance these statistics. I might even pop for a Starbucks Gift Card to the person offering the best suggestion. For now, however…

The trend continues, although subtle changes are revealing themselves. Comparing May, ’07 to one year ago reveals no great surprises, but a couple of mild ones. The number of detached home sales in May ‘07 (31 sales) is down from the same period last year (38) by 8%. This is a departure from the even slower overall sales trend when comparing 2005 to 2006. Is a trend reversal coming soon? It’s still too early to say. But at least for the moment it’s moving in the right direction - towards equilibrium, not away.

The average sale price (again, detached homes) per square foot was also down in May ‘07 ($330/ft)  versus May ‘06 ($354/ft.) by 6%. This has been fairly consistent year over year.

Days on market were slightly improved with an average of 50 days for this year versus 52 days last year.

Currently there are 106 detached homes on the market in Scripps Ranch. This is slightly over 1% of the entire inventory of existing homes. At the current absorption rate for this year (avg. 24 sales per month), this reflects an approximately 4.4 month inventory.

Ironically, when absorption of the inventory of homes for sale is less than 6 months, it is technically considered a sellers market. But it may be hard to convince many sellers of this at the moment. 

Looking ahead to the July/August timeframe, it will be interesting to see how the inventory of homes for sale compares with the end of July last year when there were 158 homes on the market, the most in recent memory.

A Helpful Reminder - For those selling (or thinking about selling soon), remember that there are more choices for buyers now. Pricing strategy and the appearance of your home is more important than ever. The message for the day is: Stage it! Clean it! Polish it! Price it Right! This will give you the greatest chance for success.  

Where my husband, Steve, is concerned, the family house cat is not feeling the love. The resident dog ranks only slightly lower on her people-I-want-to-go-away scale. Whenever one or the other enters the room, she has this habit of turning to face the opposite wall. We assume that the thought process goes something like this - If I can’t see you, you don’t exist; if I don’t acknowledge you, you are dead to me (or, at least, you will eventually go away).

Fluffy, the short-haired domestic in denial, has a lot in common with our local newspaper, the San Diego Union Tribune.

In yet another example of their misguided notion that they can cling to what is fast becoming a flawed news and information delivery concept, the Union has again demonstrated their belief that ignoring that which they fear will make it go away.

The weekend homes section was as recently as a year ago still considered the place for agents and brokerages to advertise. As advertising rates went up and ad response plummeted (to zero), the smart money moved their resources to online venues. We made our listings available to any and every online portal we could find. For us, this was a no-brainer business decision. A $300 ad in the Union would generate virtually no calls, while a free Craigslist ad would result in a half-dozen buyer inquiries.

Good Luck With That

The larger brokerages still contribute to the ad-revenue coffers, but this, we know, is for the purpose of advertising the brand and not the homes. And, as a concession to those clients and to keep the dollars coming, the inside cover of the homes section is routinely devoted to “press releases” for the companies and their agents. Periodically, Steve and I submit a press release because a) it can’t hurt, and b) it’s free. Our most recent submission promoted our involvement as local community fair sponsors, with the final paragraph devoted to a little shameless self-promotion of our online presence:

Kris and Steve, both Broker Associates, are multiple award-winning agents for Prudential CA Realty in Scripps Ranch and can be found on the Internet at www.SanDiegoCastles.com. Their blog, www.SanDiegoHomeBlog.com, has been recognized nationally and was recently featured by Inman News as an example of innovation in the exchange of localized real estate information. Kris also serves as a contributor on www.BloodhoundBlog.com, which has become widely regarded as an authority on national industry issues.

Admittedly, this was a bit bold for the medium, and we fully expected the outcome; the final paragraph was nuked in its entirety at publication. Surprisingly, however, our company approved it, the same company who only seconds ago did everything they could to subvert any agent attempts at online autonomy and personal branding. Our company, at some point, wisely acknowledged that they could not stop progress and, perhaps (get this!), recognized that our success would contribute to their own.

Yet the Union muckity-mucks are undoubtedly sitting around the management table scratching their old world heads, wondering why their readership is down, their ad revenues are down, and their long-term viability is threatened. They have an online arm, SignOnSanDiego, this being their too-little-too-late attempt to assimilate into the modern world of information sharing, but they can’t compete. Their site is about as easy to navigate as the Holland Tunnel at rush hour, and the pop-ups are so numerous as to give one vertigo. This, and I think I had a birthday the last time I waited for the search feature to load.

No Longer “The Deciders”

The mainstream media has been in the enviable position for as long as we can remember of not only reporting the “news” but deciding for us what the news in fact is. That has changed. By the time something has been reported in print, it is yesterday’s newspaper to the vast majority of us. We get our information on television and online, and we discuss the information and challenge the meaning on blogs.

When I emailed The Deciders several months ago suggesting they cover the roll-out of Zillow’s new listing features, they told me that there was no story here (resulting in this post). In February, when the Redfin CEO met with both me and The Deciders on the same day to promote their entry into the San Diego Real Estate market, I aired a podcast, and they turned their backs to face the wall.

Being shunned by the arrogant mainstream media did not make Zillow go away, nor has Redfin pulled up stakes. Neither is my blog going anywhere.

Little Ol’ Me

The Union is not afraid of little ol’ me. They are afraid of the collective me’s and of what we represent: The potential demise of their industry, at least as we now know it. So, to the Union and all of those Unions out there, I offer my free advice. Try something crazy; acknowledge the movement and use it to your advantage. Do you want to sell some papers? Befriend rather than ostracize those that challenge you and your business model. Adapt. Do you think that some of us with business addresses ending in .com might be willing, even delighted to partner with you? Might we have insight, ideas, and even “news” that could help keep you contemporary? Is is possible that we would be delighted to willingly share our perspectives and our platform for a little sound-bite, name-dropping in your house in return?

My cat will continue to ignore the dog and “that guy”, thinking that by wishing them gone, she will make it so. To the Union, you may chose to look the other way. You may choose to continue to ignore progress and change in the off chance that we will go away. But my blog will still be here tomorrow. Will you?

The Bloodhound Blog’s Greg Swann has been making his argument for elimination of agent licensing altogether. Call me busy (I have it on authority that the cat-who-hates-Steve just hurled her Fancy Salmon Feast again), call me distracted with other issues of import (paying my utility bill and my quarterly taxes weighs heavily on me right now), or accuse me of lacking the Big Thinker gene (”big” as in larger than Paris Hilton’s legal bill). I disagree with his proposition that occupational licensing is criminal, but I lack the mental agility and clarity of thought to tackle this weighty thesis this morning. That would require self-sequestration in a windowless room appointed only with black lights and the soothing background sounds of Ayn Rand’s talking book series.

What I am prepared to argue, however, is that we are already there. Sure, strictly speaking, we have real estate licensing requirements. Greg’s world, one with virtually no barrier to entry, is essentially upon us; the day when everyone is a de facto licensee is today, because the majority of the adult population it seems does in fact have their license!

My past week has been rich and full of bad-agent experiences. I have seen the devil, and he is wearing a cheap suit… or, at least, his cousin is.

Mega-Agent- I haven’t personally spoken to him, I will never meet him, but his ad campaigns tell me he is bigger than life. Trying to submit an offer on the behalf of my client on one of his listings has been an experience akin to swimming the English Channel. He is a busy, busy guy. He is so busy, that each call to his office, calls in which I identify my purpose and ask to speak with him, is met by a “Is there something I can help you with?” screening from the receptionist. Once, when I had finally, successfully navigated my way to the Marketing Manager, I felt so empowered that I was ready to take out my own ads. “Kris Berg is connected in the real estate community. Her vast Network includes Mega-Agent’s Marketing Manager!” I did finally receive, at one point (underscore “one”), a perfunctory call back to voicemail from The Man, The Man who does not publish or otherwise give out his direct phone number. “Ah-ha!”, I shrieked, scrolling through my call records.  ”Now I have his number!”  Blocked Caller.

Mega-Agent Wannabe - He is looking for a home for himself, but he is smarter than I am. I know this because he tells me it is so. Every conversation begins with my being reminded that he is the “#1 agent for (company)” in the county. Every conversation except the last, that is. The last one began with his statement, “I hate old people”. I am not kidding, and neither was he, as he proceeded to tell me why. Apparently, they are indecisive, they take up too much of his time, and they tell long stories. How dare they! I’m trying to negotiate an offer with this nice man, and they are wasting his time with stories! Oh, and after assuring me that, despite the fact that he had offers on several homes at the moment (my listing being one of them), he would honor our contract if the sellers signed, he reneged. No problem that my clients left work for two hours to sign a steaming mound of documents in good faith. I guess he is just smarter than I am. One word, Mister - Karma.

The Con Artist - I thought that the voice message said that her husband was an agent, but that he is in China. She assured Steve on the phone, however, that she was unrepresented and that he misunderstood. Later at the showing (at 8:45 PM to be exact), after more than two hours of discussion involving price and terms of an offer, the olive branch was generously extended. Steve would be allowed to represent her… for a 2% “rebate”. It seems that the husband isn’t an agent, that much is true, but the cousin is! Steve never confirmed his whereabouts, but it is presumably China at the moment. I guess they have fax machines.

The Con Victim - “I have a strange question. Did you get an offer from me on (property address)? We came to the open house and told our agent two days ago that we wanted to make an offer, but she isn’t returning our phone calls. I saw on your website this morning that it is in escrow. Was it us? Oh, wait, we probably would have had to sign something.” Tears followed. You can’t make this stuff up.

I have got at least a half-dozen more personal examples of an industry run amok from just this week alone, each more painful than the next. So, you see Greg, you win the argument but we are all losing the war. Licensing requirements, while they exist, are simply straw men. If you want anyone to be able to practice real estate, I am here to tell you that they already are.