I Had to Become Brave

In the 1980’s Noosa became a very, very popular destination for many southern property investors and holidaymakers. I remember reading the Noosa News and noticing an advertisement for a real estate salesperson. Before I knew where I was, I was selling property from the office of a well- known franchise group, from its beachfront premises on Hastings Street. Selling real estate was something I knew I would do from the age of 16. We continued to reside at our Witta Circle house; it was only a few minutes’ walk to the office where I now worked. Knowing this office was ‘on their beat’, our two dogs used to walk over and sit at the front step of the real estate office, much to the annoyance of the licensee. He mentored me well and was most forgiving of my shortfalls and lack of sophistication, as my sales and presence were a bonus in the office. My original Holden VB Commodore station wagon, without air conditioning, was my work vehicle. The dogs would often jump into the car when it was parked in Hastings Street, as I would leave the windows down, especially for them to do so. One day, as it was raining, I wound the windows up. As a result, those two loyal dogs sat on the bonnet and peered through the windscreen. A rival agent across the road from our office called and said, ‘Petrea, look downstairs. Is this how you get customers?’ As I looked from the upper window, I saw Japanese tourists taking photographs of the dogs sitting on top of the car. No doubt they thought our typical Australian cattle and kelpie dogs did this in Australia. That same car was covered in concrete, as a construction spill from Sheraton had tipped onto the roof of that car. It was hosed off and I never pursued any compensation. Today, I believe that the owner of a car that suffered a similar fate would commence legal action that would result in a payout for a new car—how sad that this is common thinking now. In the eighties, real estate salespeople in Queensland were not treated as anything more than “cannon fodder” (so my old employer once told me). We had free reign, a great time, laughed a lot, worked hard and thoroughly enjoyed our unregulated freedom. Noosa was just starting to become recognised by developers and investors. Times were busy. I worked very hard and now, looking back, I can see I had the world at my feet, but once again, I did not realise just what talent I had in the field. I was an earth mother with the house always tidy, meals on the table, children cared for, garden maintained and, of course, tennis to play. However, it turned out that I was also a very good salesperson. I was often told that I was a natural at the job, but home and family was foremost. I asked Nik for assistance with cleaning up after dinner as well as helping with the children, but my request did not receive a warm reception. He was used to having everything done, right down to the loading of his toothbrush. Italian mums looked after their men and as that was his proud heritage, he was not accustomed to attending to house duties. We continued to drift apart. I would finish the housework at home after the children went to bed and then, more often than not, head over to the office with my entry key to do more work on Noosa real estate. It was as if I had been bitten by a bug and I had this virus called ‘Noosa real estate’ in my veins. The conversation at the dinner table was about property and the children all listened intently. We were a building and real estate family; consequently, the conversation flowed along those lines. Tennis was still a huge entertainment and sport for us all, but selling Noosa real estate was now becoming a major part of my life. I would work on the weekends with the children coming over to the office and sitting with me and often times coming with me on inspections. Naturally the dogs came along as well. I recall in my unsophisticated way taking the dogs on an inspection with me. I did not have the heart to leave them looking at me sadly, so I asked the clients if they minded that they join us. They sat in the rear seat with the clients and those people ended up buying one of the properties I had shown them. The team at our real estate office in Hastings Street were a different kind of people to those I had known previously, but then again, I was not that worldly or streetwise. It was ‘cowboy country’, as I used to say to my clients. No one was paid a retainer and mobiles had not been invented at the time. Contracts were the quick and the dead and there was no such thing as a cooling off period. There were about 10 of us who had a desk (or something that was meant to resemble a desk) and there were no external windows or air conditioning in our room within the old asbestos building. The majority of us sat in this hot large room with our chairs and benches around the circumference. We found our own clients and listings and were rarely provided with any leads. If we did receive any leads, we were like a pack of hyeena’s on the Serengeti Plain, fighting and grabbing at any bits and pieces that were thrown into the ‘BIG ROOM’. Salespeople came and went like the wind; one started one morning and was gone by lunchtime. We never again saw that nice, little, young solicitor who thought he might like a career change. He vanished after his lunch break. We all stared at the walls to which memos were attached with drawing pins. At one end of the office, a large brown uneven holey curtain covered the shelves behind. Old brochures and anything relevant to Noosa’s real estate and history of sales were kept there for reference, with no real filing system. We had phones with a STD bar and a fax machine. We were required to book any STD calls with the receptionist to limit the telephone costs. Computers were rare, so we had to wait for our one receptionist to do any typing work for us. When I joined the team, the ‘award winning’ salespeople had talk back radios in their cars. The rest of us just did without. We were trained in auctions through our office training programme. After the franchise fee and licensee took his percentage from our commissions, the remainder was divided again in the event of someone having a sole agency of the property we had just sold. Everyone had their hand out for some small morsel and commission disputes within the office were commonplace. It was tough, hard and cruel, although still great fun. As one of my employers once said to me, as I sat teary one day, thinking I was alone in the office, ‘If you can sell real estate in Noosa, you can sell it anywhere in the world’. We saw many changes. One day in particular, I recall our licensee saying that in the future, people will come to Noosa to watch the rich at play. His vision of the future property owners was correct. Today, there are many, many famous international celebrities and overseas owners of Noosa properties. We saw booms and busts. The competition between agents was intense; most barely made a living, even though they projected an image of ‘selling heaps’. We were without any holiday or sick pay. We were paid based on performance only and some greedy, less than honest, salesperson was always waiting to stick a dagger into your back. Vendors did not seem to realise just how fickle and cruel the Noosa real estate scene was. It was the job we managed to have when employment in Noosa was very hard to find. Most of my fellow salespeople became real estate agents as that is the only job available, whereas I did it because I loved it. We worked hard and, even with all its pitfalls, we had fun and freedom and worked in a unique era. In fact it was a unique time for anyone living in Noosa!