When the Bus Feels Like It’s Driving You

I’ve been reading a lot of Jon Gordon lately. If I’m honest, I think I’ve read almost everything he’s written. Right now, I’m working through The 7 Commitments of a Great Team, and as I read, I keep noticing how often his messages weave back to the same themes — ownership, energy, gratitude, responsibility.

Themes that feel especially relevant in real estate.

This profession has a way of humbling you.

There are long stretches where you feel like you’re doing everything right — showing up, working hard, pouring into people — and still seeing very little return. You look around and watch others seemingly sail through deal after deal while you’re grinding quietly in the background. Comparison creeps in. Doubt follows close behind. You start asking yourself what you’re missing, what you’re doing wrong, or whether you chose the right path at all.

If you’re not careful, bitterness and frustration can take root. And when that happens, this job can eat you alive.

What people don’t always realize about real estate is that it’s not just a job — it’s a life choice. I didn’t fully understand that when I started. I was a teacher for sixteen years and came into real estate thinking it would be a side hustle. Sell a few houses, work harder in the summers, bring in extra income to help our family move forward.

What I didn’t understand then was the weight of the pipeline. There are no true days off. No holidays where your phone doesn’t matter. You work when your clients aren’t working. And when you stop tending to that pipeline — even briefly — momentum dries up fast. Rebuilding it takes twice as long.

Last year was a hard one for me.

I went from a strong start in my first six months as an agent, to several solid years, and then back down again. I was distracted. Pulled in too many directions. Focused on things other than simply doing the work in front of me. My income took a hit. I leaned on credit more than I ever had before. And slowly, I lost the joy that had drawn me to this profession in the first place.

Worse than that, I noticed a shift in myself. I became commission-focused instead of people-focused. That’s not who I am. And realizing that was sobering.

Every December, I take time to reflect on the year — what went well and what didn’t. As I sat at my desk, surrounded by goals, quotes, reminders, and pictures of my purpose, one line stopped me cold:

You are the driver of your own bus.

It felt like hitting a wall.

That year hadn’t happened to me. I had participated in it. The market wasn’t the villain. My choices mattered more than I wanted to admit. And strangely, that realization didn’t feel heavy — it felt freeing.

Gratitude followed almost immediately.

Gratitude that I wasn’t stuck. Gratitude that awareness gave me a choice. Gratitude that the next year didn’t have to look like the last one.

Instead of setting goals rooted in numbers and outcomes, I shifted my focus to effort, decisions, and daily discipline. I committed to protecting my focus. To affirming myself daily. To choosing positivity even when it felt inconvenient.

Living a positive life isn’t easy. It requires intention. It requires ownership. But it also has the power to change everything — sometimes in ways you never imagined.

Real Truths from a Real Realtor

I was meeting a client for the very first time at a property he had sent me that he was excited about.

I had never spoken to him on the phone. He was an ad lead who found me through Zillow and scheduled the showing online. I was genuinely looking forward to helping him — he was a younger gentleman who didn’t speak any English and didn’t know the process. My plan was to use this first meeting to build rapport, introduce him to our Spanish-speaking partners, and really walk him through what buying a home could look like.

When I arrived, he was already there — leaning against his work truck, waiting for me.

I was ten minutes early.
He had been there thirty.

I could sense that he was a little peeved that I was “late,” but I let that feeling go. I quickly pulled up Google Translate, introduced myself with a smile, shook his hand, and headed toward the front door.

He walked around back to inspect the yard while I went through the house to open the back door. We met on the patio and surveyed the backyard together while I fumbled through Google Translate — asking about dogs, fencing, and what he might need.

Then he indicated that he wanted to walk the remaining acre behind the house.

I followed.

What I didn’t notice was that while I was looking down at my phone, typing energetically into Google Translate, he had completely sidestepped and taken a different path.

I kept walking straight.

And then I took a step that would absolutely ruin the moment.

My next full step landed me directly into an overflowing septic tank.

Imagine the feeling of your leg sinking into a pit of the worst-smelling sludge imaginable. My shoe instantly filled. My pants clung to my skin. The smell was immediate and overwhelming.

I pulled my leg out and started gagging.

Do I play it cool?
Do I acknowledge how absolutely disgusting this is?

Before I even had time to react, my new client turned around, made a beeline for the front of the house… and disappeared.

No “Are you okay?”
No conversation.
Nothing.

He was just gone.

With my pride completely bruised, I trudged back to the house — still having to go inside to lock both the back and front doors. By the time I finished, the client was nowhere to be found.

I slunk back to my car, shoe in hand, trying to figure out how to proceed. I put my shoe into a grocery bag and tossed it into the trunk because the smell was truly putrid. I rolled my pants up as best I could to avoid contaminating my seats and started driving.

But the smell was so bad, I couldn’t continue.

I looked around to make sure no one could see me and decided the only logical solution was to take my pants off and get rid of them.

So I did.

I chucked them out the window and pulled forward — only to immediately realize there was a police officer parked down the street who had watched the entire thing unfold.

He hit his lights the second my pants left the window.

He kindly asked me to retrieve them. I refused — absolutely refused — and just sat there, completely dumbfounded at how my day had taken such a dramatic turn.

Instead, I popped my trunk.

The officer picked up my soiled pants, placed them in the trunk, gave me a sly smile, and walked back to his patrol car.

Real estate is not always glamorous — but it’s never boring.

You Don’t Have to Know the First Step

One of my favorite stories — and honestly one of the clearest reasons I chose real estate — started with a simple question from an old teaching coworker. She asked if I would help her daughter find a home.

Her daughter happened to be one of my own daughter’s friends — someone I had watched grow up. Being trusted with something that personal felt like an honor I didn’t take lightly.

When she came to me, she didn’t have a plan. She didn’t know what steps to take or what homeownership even looked like for her. She only knew one thing: she didn’t want to keep paying rent.

So we sat down. We talked. I listened.

I asked her about her goals, her hopes, and where she wanted her life to go — not just what kind of house she thought she needed. She trusted me enough to be honest about where she was financially. We looked at everything together and created a simple budget she could begin following. I introduced her to a mortgage lender I trust deeply — someone who, like me, was willing to walk with her instead of rushing her.

Even though she wasn’t ready to buy yet, we still went and looked at homes. Not to pressure her — but to give her something tangible to work toward. Something real.

Over the next year, there were phone calls. Budget check-ins. Conversations with the lender. Small steps that didn’t feel dramatic in the moment but mattered more than she realized.

Within a year, she bought her very first home.

That experience reinforced something I believe deeply: through patience, persistence, consistency, and a burning desire, people truly have no limits. Most people aren’t incapable — they’re just unsupported. Once someone feels seen and guided, confidence has room to grow.

And if you’re reading this feeling unsure, behind, or intimidated by the idea of homeownership, I want you to know this:

You don’t have to do this alone.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let someone walk with you.

There Is a Pathway for Everyone

One thing I wish every buyer knew before starting the process is that there is a pathway for everyone to become a homeowner — truly, everyone.

Your starting point may look different than someone else’s, and that’s okay. What matters is understanding that there is a path forward. Don’t be afraid to reach out to a lender and ask what that pathway could look like for you. Don’t be afraid to reach out to an agent and ask how to take the very first step.

A true real estate professional will meet you where you are, help identify the path that fits your life, and walk alongside you as you take each step toward homeownership.