Real Estate Fable EP.5 — Welcome to the Life of a Property Agent

🏠 Real Estate Fable EP.5

Welcome to the Life of a Property Agent
When talent isn’t what matters most.
.
.

Patch was 24.
A fresh graduate with First-Class Honors in Communication Arts.
A polished portfolio.
Sharp diction. Great presence.
Full of fire.
But unemployed.
.
He applied for every creative job — advertising, production, agency work.
But reality wasn’t like the movies.
“Thank you. We’ll get back to you.”
became the line he heard the most.
.
Then one day, he saw a Facebook post:
“Looking for new property agents. No experience needed — only passion.”
A simple line.
But to Patch, it felt like a lifeline.
He thought, “I have to try this. At least once.”
.
After two days of basic training,
he started searching for listings in Facebook groups.
Found one that caught his eye —
a three-storey riverside house with an infinity pool.
He messaged the owner,
who agreed to let him market the property.
.
His first listing.
He was thrilled — like a kid with a new toy.
Price: 48 million baht.
Commission: 3% = 1.44 million.
He swallowed hard.
.
“Post it → Sell it → Get rich.”
It sounded so easy.
He thought, why did I even bother studying communications?
.
He wrote a beautiful caption:

“Luxury isn’t a luxury. It’s a reward for those who dare to dream.”
Posted it in five big property groups.
.
No likes.
No chats.
One comment:
“Be careful, might be a scammer. Profile looks fake.”
.
Patch didn’t give up.
He watched YouTube sales gurus,
listened to Clubhouse real estate talks,
read How to Talk So Customers Buy Instantly.
.
He changed his tone.
“Silent luxury doesn’t need to shout.”
Still nothing.
Even ads brought silence.
.
When he finally got messages,
his hands went cold every time he had to call.
He prayed they wouldn’t answer.
And when they did —
most said,
“You sound so young. Are you really authorized to sell this house?”
.
Weekends, he took buses to visit listings,
shot his own photos,
edited them, wrote copy.
Posted every day.
But the word “sold” felt galaxies away.
.
Then one day,
a client booked a viewing.
He arrived an hour early.
Rain pouring, traffic jam,
nerves on fire.
He rehearsed his lines over and over.
But the buyer never showed.
Didn’t call. Didn’t text.
Didn’t even read his message.
.
Patch sat there, soaked to the bone.
Phone half-dead.
Wallet empty.
Heart heavier than the sky.
He ate a 35-baht rice box under a bridge that night
and whispered to himself,
“Feels like life’s playing me for laughs.”
.
Three months passed.
Still no sale.
He finally asked himself,
“Why am I failing?”
.
Then he realized —
it wasn’t the photos,
wasn’t the words,
wasn’t the price.
.
“I never understood the buyers.”
“I don’t even know what someone buying a 48-million house really wants.”
.
He’d been trying so hard to sound smart
that he forgot to listen.
.
Bills piled up.
So he switched.
Not luxury homes.
Affordable ones.
.
He found a townhome in Bang Bua Thong —
2.7 million baht.
Owned by an old man moving to live with his son.
Patch called him, asked permission to take photos himself.
.
This time, he didn’t “advertise.”
He told a story:
“This home raised two children to adulthood.
Every corner holds a memory.
Now the owners have moved out,
and this house waits for someone new
to build their own story here.”
.
The post exploded.
Over 100 shares.
Dozens of messages.
One of them was from “Praew.”
.
Praew was 32.
Pregnant with her first child.
Tired of condo life — wanted space to raise her baby.
.
Patch didn’t rush to sell.
He listened.
About her baby.
Her dream nursery.
Her plan to hang tiny clothes in the morning sun.
.
At the viewing,
he didn’t pitch.
Didn’t present floor plans.
Didn’t show off.
He just opened the curtains,
let light flood the room,
and said softly,
“You could hang the baby’s cradle here — morning light is perfect.”
Then he stepped back.
Let her explore in peace.
.
He handled everything —
bank coordination,
expense summary,
honest report of minor repairs.
No tricks. No push.
Just care.
.
On transfer day,
Patch couldn’t stop smiling.
Not because of the commission.
Because he’d done it —
truly, finally done it.
.
After all the rejection,
the missed calls,
the rain,
the doubt —
he’d made his first sale.
.
He hadn’t sold “a big house.”
He’d sold “the right house.”
To the right person.
.
He stopped being “the one who sold dreams”
and became “the one who listened to them.”
.
Months later,
on a bus ride through his old route,
he passed that riverside mansion again.
He stopped and looked at it.
Not with envy.
With gratitude.
Because if he hadn’t failed there,
he’d never have found his way here.
.
“Starting from zero isn’t going backward.
It’s stepping back — to see clearly where you’re going.”
.
That’s the story of Patch.
And maybe of many others,
trying so hard to win in someone else’s arena
that they forget —
their own field is worth starting on, too.
.

End of Fable.

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