Читать книгу From Homemaker to Breadwinner - Myra Ph.D Nourmand - Страница 6

In 1970, I graduated from State University New York (SUNY-Buffalo) and married Saeed. Shortly after, we planned to move west. Although he could have found work locally, this was never his intention. While we dated, he would tell me, “Myra, read my lips: We’re getting married in Buffalo, but after our honeymoon, we’re moving to California.”

Saeed is a man of his word. After getting married, we packed our lives in our car and drove across the country. At the time, I was selling waterless cookware. It was a job that I began when I was in college. When I told my boss about my plans to leave Buffalo, he was sad to see one of his most productive sales people leave. In fact, he asked me to launch the same cookware business on the west coast.

At first, this sounded like a good idea. I had never been to California and assumed that the cookware business would be an easy endeavor to launch. But once on the west coast, I quickly learned about Southern California commuter life and how the expansive urban landscape made selling waterless cookware a daunting task.

Our drive to California was like an extended honeymoon. After all, the cities that line the cross-country trip have filled pages of countless coffee table books and travel guides. Unfortunately, these publications are the only references we have. As a result of our determination to get to the other side of the country, Saeed and I took to the highway, drove 14 hours a day, and stopped only to eat and rest.

When I look back, I see missed opportunities. Now, I have children, grandchildren, a husband, family, work, and friends, which means my life is filled with activity. Then, we were young with few commitments. We could have ambled across the country, stopped to see the sights, and experienced local culture. Instead, with autopilot-like focus, we charged ahead toward our destination.

First we arrived in San Diego. The California climate was what we had been yearning for, and we found it. Soon, however, we realized that San Diego was appealing, but if we really wanted to find high-paying work, we had to move to Los Angeles.

We moved north to Woodland Hills, California, and immediately pored over the local newspaper in search of employment and a place to live. At first, we had trouble finding an apartment. The problem wasn’t supply—there was plenty of housing. But with no furniture, no jobs, no personal references, and New York license plates, we had difficulty convincing landlords that we would be stable tenants.

We finally found a place to live, and Saeed landed a job with a local engineering firm. At the same time, he was also making arrangements for his family to move to the United States from Iran. Political instability was making life there more and more difficult, and his family knew that trouble was ahead.

Meanwhile, I looked for work in nearby Van Nuys. I gave up cookware sales and entered an employment agency. Scanning the workspace, with its padded cubicles and fluorescent lighting, I saw that I was clearly the youngest person there. At 22 and fresh out of college, I was surrounded by women in their 40s. After interviewing me, the manager asked if I would be interested in becoming a career counselor. “Who would counsel whom?” I thought. After all, I entered the office in search of career guidance myself.

My next significant job came as a result of a car accident that Saeed and I had during a trip to San Diego. After the collision, friends suggested that we meet with an attorney. During our appointment, the lawyer wanted to know details about the accident and what our current employment status was. I let him know that I had recently quit my job because the office had moved too far from my home. He then gave us a chance to ask him questions. Afterwards, the attorney shared that he was impressed with what I had asked regarding the accident.

“Your questions were better than what most attorneys would want to know. Are you sure you’re only 24?” I recall him asking.

At the end of the meeting, he offered me a job. “Earlier you said you weren’t working…Well, consider yourself employed now,” he said. He explained that he had been in search of a legal secretary.

I shared that I knew shorthand but nothing about the legal field. He showed no concern. “I trust my instincts and have a good feeling about you. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he said.

I started work the following week. At his office, I was responsible for transcribing tapes. Every day, I was the first one there. During the first few days, five tapes waited for me on my desk. I slid them into the machine, listened, typed, and completed all of my work by the end of the day.

Soon, there were six tapes, followed by seven. The workload became intense, but I knew that I had a task to complete, and I didn’t leave until it was done.

One day a colleague pulled me aside. “Myra, the girls and I have been talking,” I recall her saying. “We can’t believe that you’re doing seven tapes a day. At this rate there’ll be eight waiting for you by the end of the week. Honey, slow down.”

From that conversation, I discovered that my co-workers were only completing two or three tapes per day—not six or seven. Just like in the past, I realized that when I didn’t know any better, I exceeded other’s expectations of me.

After I became pregnant with my first child, Nicole, the waterless cookware, employment counseling, and legal work were replaced with diapers, children’s books, and sleepless nights of motherhood—being a mom was a full-time job.

My maternal responsibilities grew with the birth of Howard and then Michael. I spent the next many years raising my three children. Once they were school age, they were active in sports, music, acting, and art classes. The responsibility of juggling three schedules while making sure that homework was completed and meals were prepared honed my time-management skills—something that would prove invaluable a few years later.

As my children became more independent, Saeed began encouraging me to re-enter the workforce. The thought piqued my interest, but I was reluctant. So many years spent raising my kids made me doubt my ability to succeed at anything else. But my husband knew I had been a successful salesperson throughout my early adult life. I took his encouragement seriously; Saeed had established a real estate brokerage in Beverly Hills, and he was a formidable judge of character.

In 1988, I took the plunge, passed the exam, and became a licensed broker. Since then, I’ve moved forward with the same determination that pushed my husband and me to drive from Buffalo to San Diego 14 hours at a time. I’m thankful that my husband motivated me to become a broker. As a result, real estate has become one of my life’s passions.

Throughout these pages, you’ll read about the experiences that shaped my career and what I’ve learned during my nearly 20 years in this business. I’ve had my share of disappointments, but the lessons I’ve learned from my setbacks have made me wonder whether there’s such a thing as a bad experience. Based on that perspective, I can confidently say that my successes far outweigh any difficulties, and my accomplishments have greatly surpassed all my expectations.

Whether you’re a mother of three who has never sold a piece of property in your life or a seasoned professional, there’s something in here for you. In this book, you’ll read about my method to success in real estate sales. This business can be complicated, and it will be stressful at times. But how you’ll get there is simple. It starts with these three words: Be an expert.