Every once and a while I’ll meet an agent who’s personality rivals the size of the house he’s trying to sell.


This house was big, too. Not mansion proportions, but big enough to include an attached apartment, a foyer and dining room with a two-story ceiling, and a backyard large enough — even in Olde Carlsbad where space is at a premium — for a serious game of t-ball.



In the future, when I see the address of this property in my records, it won’t be the house I remember.


The agent was a born and bred Carlsbadian, but now lives in Las Vegas. He was back in Carlsbad for stint helping his sister sell her house. “So, tell me about the market,” he said. “Tell me about my competition. What are these agents like that you’ve been working with?”


He was very inquisitive about my process and methods, the equipment and software I use. “So is that a fish-eye or what are we talking here?”


He was a perfectionist. I’d start shooting my set of bracketed images for a room and “Wait!” he’d say, running into the frame. “Are you sure that basket looks good? Maybe we shoot lose it, what do you think? Yes? No? Maybe move it over here? No — over there, by the wine bottles. What if we throw some fruit in it? Lauren? You’re the pro here, I’m just the lackey — you tell me.”


He liked to make everyone feel good about themselves, not just for personal gain, but sincerely (for the most part).

“What will it take to steal you away?” he asked.


“From the other agents. What if I want you as my exclusive photographer?”

I laughed. “You’ve got three properties a week for me, we’ve got a deal.”

“Good. Because you and me, we can take over the market.” ☼