Home delivery milkman’s son’s story about real estate. Growing up in Doylestown, Pa back in the days when people didn’t lock their doors, left their car keys in the ignition and knew their neighbors I had the privilege to join my father in his job. He was a home delivery milkman. Beginning with the pick up of the products at the dairy farm each morning at 2 AM we would set out into the dark with excitement those mornings, at least I was excited. I knew I would be going into peoples houses and checking their refrigerators for what they needed. I would have to race back to the truck, tell my Dad who would make note of the delivery, then
I would race back into the home making sure I was quiet and respectful. These were different times then and the thought of leaving our houses open all night so that someone could serve your needs is well gone, but back then it was magical to me.
I went into Colonials, Farm Houses, Tudor’s and Contemporaries. I saw neat houses, messy houses and made friends with the pets who lived there. I loved knowing my neighbor’s and the lives they lead inside their homes. I loved speaking to a Mom or Dad who was up at those wee hours and knowing I was helping. Not much has changed about that over the years. As a Realtor® I do much of the same work. I must know the homes and the people who live within.
I get to know there love of the home and the reasons they are leaving. There is an intimacy to this process that demands respect and discretion. We have a job to do and we need to get in and out in the most efficient manner to move on to the next home.
My Dad is gone now more than a year, but I still think of those days when I sit down with my clients and prospects to serve them professional services. It is all about their needs and their wants. I guess all my life I have been headed in this direction but I feel blessed to be able to share my home delivery milkman’s son’s story about real estate.