She Worked Two Jobs

My first year in real estate, I closed fifteen deals and won Rookie of the Year.

That's the version that fits on a plaque.

Here's the version that's true.

Fifteen deals, split with a brokerage as a rookie starting a new business, didn't pay the bills. Not close.

So my wife worked two jobs. Two. And we both picked up side work on top of that.

This is a woman who had already planned our entire wedding by herself while I was in boot camp. Who had already quit a job she'd held for over a decade and moved our whole life across the country, by herself, while I was deployed.

She had done her part. More than her part. And when I kept coming home from door-knocking with nothing to show for it, or cold-called until my fingers bled and my spirit was broken, she didn't tell me to go get a real job. She put on her shoes and came with me.

Who was on that sidewalk

A few weeks back I told you about St. Patrick's weekend in Ocean View. The man who yelled. How I almost didn't turn around.

Here's what I left out.

I wasn't alone on that sidewalk.

She was working those doors right beside me. The lead that became my first listing, my first sale, my first check: she was there for it.

People ask me how I built this business.

I didn't. We did.

I just happen to be the one whose name went on the plaque.

So this one's for every spouse working the second job behind somebody else's dream. You're not the support act. You're the co-founder.