Brandon Meyerson is a 34-year-old realtor who predominantly does business in the Ft. Lauderdale area. At the start of the new year, Brandon decided to make the move from a large, corporate brokerage to a local, boutique one with less agents and a more favorable commission split. When asked about what he liked best about his new company, Brandon said: “You can just tell they really care about their agents here. Also, I like saying the word ’boutique’ as much as humanly possible.” Every Thursday at 3:00 PM the brokerage hosts an office meeting where the agents get to discuss new listings they have or charity causes that nobody wants to contribute to.
Brandon went to his first office meeting January 5th and sat towards the back next to a realtor named Janet. The broker began welcoming everyone back from vacation and detailed her excitement for the year to come. During her monologue, she mentioned that at the end of the meeting they would introduce some of the new agents that had joined. Janet turned to Brandon and whispered emphatically, “that’s you!” Brandon forced a smile and responded: “yup.” His stomach quickly tightened as sweat began to trickle down the side of his face.
Forty minutes into the meeting Brandon mapped out a potential escape path in his head. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by realtors – six on each side. At 3:57 PM the broker told a new agent, “Nancy Kaufman” to stand up and “tell everyone a little about yourself.” Brandon panicked and began rehearsing in his head what he was going to say: “Hi my name is Brandon Meyerson and I just switched from Coldwell Banker and I hate snakes… no that’s stupid this isn’t fourth grade…say something clever…Hi my name is Brandon Meyerson and people call me The Crow because I put properties into escrow… no that’s even worse!” Brandon quickly decided to get the hell out of there. He took out his phone and looked at it very seriously. He answered audibly for the people around him: “oh my god is everything okay?!” He then got up and pushed by the the agents on his right and jolted up the stairs and out of the building. He continued his fake phone call down the street and sprinted to his car muttering “oh my god, oh my god I’m sorry,” in case any of the agents were following him. After he got in his car he let out a massive sigh of relief and drove back to his apartment. He hasn’t been to an office meeting since.