“Oh my God, it looks like a war zone.” JoAnn looked at a man holding an automatic weapon at his side. “There’s another one,” she said.
I glanced as she pointed, but I had to keep an eye on the airport traffic. I couldn’t tell whether it was Boston SWAT or the Massachusetts National Guard, but there was a trooper every 10 feet along the curb.
“We’re not doing this,” JoAnn said, shaking her head slowly from side to side. It was the slow part that told me not to argue.
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I said. I knew better, but I can be less than smart when JoAnn shakes her head like that.
We were in Boston for a conference, a gathering of what was billed as the top real estate agents in the country. We were departing with mixed emotions. The presenters had been inspirational, and the people we met were obviously very successful, yet something was missing, and we had been trying to put our fingers on it.
The speakers all seemed to espouse some grand plan or method to achieve success. Our plan seemed so simple, our method so plain. Over the past six years, we had attended dozens of these events all around the country. With each conference, we learned and gained insight, but none provided any great revelations. With each gathering, we came to realize that we did much more business than these high-profile personalities. With each trip we came to realize that our contemporaries were just like our lady in the blue suit. For all their tireless, sincere, and heartfelt efforts, ...