Karen Eddinger ~ Relocating to Seattle?

My name is Karen and i'm a Groupon addict The scope of my addition actually extends beyond Groupons. I started with Groupons and then went on to use Living Social, Buy With Me, Google Offers, Local Deal Finder, Amazon Local...the list goes on and on.

It started slow, with just a few deals here and there -- 70% discount on car detailing at Derek's...50% off at Tacos Guamas. And, I had a year to use them -- Wow! How more wonderful could that be? I should save these until I really need them.

Soon, a few more car detailing specials appeared. Better grab 'em, Karen. You don't know when they'll be offered again.

But they were offered again. Again and again. By this time, I was hooked. Every week, a new company sprang up offering amazing bargains, too sweet to let pass. I'm ashamed to report all the occasions I experimented with online coupons. Suffice it to say, they were frequent. I was raised to spot a bargain, and spot them I did.

HELP!

Christmas is less than two weeks away and my deals are expiring! I should be finishing up my holiday shopping, mailing out my magnet calendars, working on my web site, and wrapping up my year. Instead, I'm trying to use all my vouchers before they are no good!

Last week, I used the Emmer & Rye voucher for $50.

Saturday, my son-in-law's getting an 80-minute massage as an early birthday present because I didn't read the fine print "only one visit per customer."

Monday, it's car detailing again at Derek's, and then quickly back to Derek's for the one that's expiring January 1st.

I gave my daughter the one-month membership at Yogalife, expiring January 26. I don't even like yoga.

I had two $20 Groupons for Molly's Salads expiring on Friday. Monday, I used one and discovered it's a sandwich bar/college hangout on the UW campus. The only parking within blocks cost $15. Needless to say, I'm letting the second one expire.

Already, I have 10 car wash vouchers for 2012. I think I need to ease up on the car washes.

Then, there are 4 tickets to the Children's Museum, two 60-minute massages, and a cooking class in the University District.

These 2 Fandango movie vouchers may be a lost cause. Everything I want to see is at a non-cooperating theater.

OMG! Here's a Whole Foods voucher I forgot about...and it's expiring tomorrow. (Whew! That was a close call.)

Oh, dear. I really need to get a handle on this. For 2012, I resolve to refrain from purchasing online coupons (especially car washes).

I'll just delete them when they show up......just like spam.

Won't even read them. I'll just ignore them.

And if I do read them before I ignore them, I'll still delete them. No matter how great a deal they are.

I can do this. I gave up smoking. I can surely give up coupons.

Hmmm...what's this? Polar Fleece Earmuffs 60% off?...that's a good deal...and I hear we're in for a cold winter...I wonder if there's a limit per customer.

I have somehow landed on a Spanish-speakers mailing list. I'm not sure how this happened. At first, I thought it was the result of joining NAHREP (National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals), but the emails are arriving through an account I rarely use, rather than the Gmail account I use for my Seattle real estate business. That takes NAHREP off the hook. You might be asking yourself at this point why I joined the National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals if I am not an Hispanic real estate professional. Well, I am a Seattle real estate professional. And, NAHREP puts on excellent programs. And, members get preferential seating.

As if these daily emails aren't bad enough, yesterday i received a brochure in my snail mail for Spanish cinema in Seattle. As a real estate professional, I live in a world of endless opportunities for losing focus. Now, I'm being distracted in TWO languages! Oh, if I could only turn back the clock to High School (skipping, of course, all the pimples and heartbreak). I could have taken Spanish, but I didn't. Who knew? And since there is little chance that the U. S. will have the fifth largest population of German-speaking people in the world, here is just another example of me taking a wrong turn in life.

Every day, I am more amazed at how the Internet has changed our lives. I can remember when the big fear was contracting STD's. Nowadays, the big fear is a disease we can catch all alone in the privacy of our home office. So, how did I end up in this predicament? Somehow, sometime, somewhere, I put my name on a list. I must have. And it had to be a list in English because my German is really rough. That list, somehow, got into the hands of some Hispanic spammers who weren't paying attention and confused their English-speakers list with their Spanish-speakers list.

Hmmm...if only it were that simple.

So, where do I go from here? Well, certainly not to Berlitz. The closest one is in Bellevue and I'm in Seattle -- not a good use of my time --- lots of traffic across the 520 bridge. I've been afraid to guess where the "unsubscribe" link is for fear of signing up for more emails. What do I do?

I have an idea.

Let me do the math...Google says 12% of the U. S. population is Spanish speaking. If there are 300 customers every day coming to the Starbucks in the Greenlake neighborhood of Seattle, where I live, over an eight-hour period (SWAG), then I can grab my laptop and head over there in the hope of making friends with those 4.5 Spanish speakers who will be there today. They can show me where to unsubscribe.

Or, I can copy and paste the bottom portion of the emails into a Spanish translation web site and hope to see where the "unsubscribe" link is myself.

Or...I can just hit "delete."

When I was a young real estate agent in St. Louis in the 1970's, my manager John coached us on how to handle buyers. Buyers are liars, he warned. What he really believed and what was contrived to form a rhyme, I will never know. Back in those salad days of seller markets, John knew the value of a buyer and the importance of holding onto that buyer. And and out-of-town buyer? Well, that was gold worth guarding. "When you get an out-of-town buyer," John would shout, "you sleep with them until they buy!" Now, what I think he meant was that we should keep very close tabs on them, although I happened to have known some agents who I think took him literally.

So, if they're lying, what are they lying about? And why? Are we to be like the old shoe salesmen who brought out three pair of shoes that matched the customers' request and one pair that did not, just in case they really didn't know what they wanted? I took a training class years ago from Steve Brown, who taught that we need to determine a buyer's dominant buying motive, or DBM. When I first heard that, I instantly understood why, in my first year of selling real estate, I was not able to find the right home for George and his wife:

George was a very successful insurance salesman. The message from the partially-smoked cigar cupped in his right hand at all times could have told me a lot, had I been listening. He was going to spend $150,000, and that was big bucks in 1973 -- expecially to a new agent. A friend of his lived in one of the old-money neighborhoods of St. Louis near Washington University, and George wanted a house like his. Until one came available, I showed his wife what felt like hundreds of homes that were close, but not quite, the look of the Clayton neighborhoods of Brentmoor and Carrswold. Finally, the day arrived that a new listing came on the market in Brentmoor for $150,000. The first two floors were updated and air conditioned, and I could almost taste my commission. I even took my husband along for the showing, to give him the rare opportunity to be inside one of these hallowed homes.

George was quiet as I walked him and his wife through the stately rooms with the very high, ornate ceilings. He seemed uncomfortable with the push-button wall switches and wanted to know where the wet bar was. What's going on? I asked myself in disbelief. I finally found him what he's looking for and there's no gratitude? No wanting to run to the office and write up an offer? The answer was very clear to me: George was a fraud. He probably didn't have the money. Or, did he? I didn't wait to find out. Feeling like a fool who had wasted months of her time, I promptly dropped George and his wife and moved on. It wasn't too many months later that I heard they had purchased a 12-year-old home in an upscale but newer neighborhood for $125,000 -- a home with traditional wall switches and a wet bar.

I finally understood John's warning and the great lesson George had taught me. it gets reinforced daily in my real estate practice. Just the other day, while on a listing appointment for a 2-story home in Marysville, I was explaining the price I was recommending. I pointed out that the home abuts a busy road and that affects its market value. "I know," said the homeowner. "When I was looking for this home, I was determined to avoid busy roads and stairs, but when I walked in, I just fell in love."

When I moved from St. Louis to Seattle, I left behind more than high humidity and the baseball Cardinals. I said good-by to the conservative Heartland and hello to the progressive Northwest. No more cursing at pesky cyclists trying to squeeze out a piece of pavement for themselves. In Seattle, they get their own lanes and a position of respect. And they seem to typify the basic heartiness of the Pacific Northwesterners. No one is too old to be caught riding a bike in Seattle. And if you want to take the bus or ride the train, there's always a designated space for you to store your bike.

What I didn't expect when I moved to Seattle was the Carpool Lane. Talk about traveling first class! While there are no meals or drinks served, life in the carpool lane is definitely a superior place to be, as you zip by the miles of clogged traffic lanes that are famous in Seattle.

We may be called the Rainy City, but it's only the wimps from Somewhere Else who grab an umbrella. We all have raincoats with hoods, and that's good enough for us. Washington is a state of 502 health clubs, at last count. Missouri, on the other hand, isn't publishing their number. Suffice it to say, Seattleites are outside. They're walking and running and cycling, and they'll do it in the rain if they have to. If you're walking or running in Missouri, you need to look both ways before crossing the street. Washington pedestrians, on the other hand, are treated like an endangered species and don't even have to look. They can just cross.

You've probably heard that Seattle is the Land of Green. For navigating icy, snow-packed streets in Seattle, we're told to use tire chains. Never mind that they tear up the streets. But don't try using them in Missouri or you'll be getting a hefty fine for breaking the law. Missouri uses lots of salt on its winter roadways, preferring to harm the environment rather than the streets.

But never more loudly do I hear the clash of cultures than while grocery shopping. I can still recall my purchases being scanned at the cash register in St. Louis and that familiar question "...paper or plastic?" Well, there's no such talk at Whole Foods. "Plastic" there is not an option. They even credit you 5¢ off your bill if you bring in your own bag. And so, I try very hard to be part of this socially-conscious landscape, to overcome my many years of brutish Midwestern training. I travel with extra cloth bags in my trunk. And when I forget to bring one into the store, I do my best to juggle my purchases without a bag.

Like today, when I realized I had forgotten to bring a bag with me. I first perused my purchases, which consisted of a bunch of bananas, carton of orange juice, celery, carrots, carton of blueberries and rotisserie chicken. Then, I looked back at the checker, who seemed to be staring into my very soul.

"Do you need a bag?" he asked. I knew he was hoping I would say no. I gathered up my purchases in my arms to make sure I could handle them all, plus my purse, cell phone and keys without dropping anything.

"No, thank you. I'll be fine without one," I answered. He smiled a reassuring smile and gently nodded two or three times, as if reassuring me I had done the right thing. He and I were on the same page. It was right for the environment. I've got that Seattle state of mind.

Living in Green Lake Could be Fattening

I say this because I live across the street from the best little gelato place in all of Seattle - Bottega Italiana. They also have excellent coffee, even by Seattle standards, and their sandwiches and salads are pretty good too, but it's the gelato, late in the evening, after realizing I didn't eat enough dinner, that calls out "Kaaaaren, oh Kaaaaren. We still have some tiramisu just for you." And I cave. I forget all about the ills of eating ice cream before bed - all about the ills of just eating ice cream - until about 2:00 a.m. Then, I remember.

Living in Green Lake Could be Bad for your Career

I say this because I live a block away from one of the most popular parks in all of Seattle - Green Lake Park. On a clear day, there are hundreds of Seattleites walking the 3-mile path that surrounds Green Lake. On a sunny day, the area is filled with people playing volley ball, shooting baskets, jogging, biking, sunning, or kayaking on the lake. On a rainy day, you will still see a few dedicated Green Lake fans walking the lake. I actually have no trouble resisting Green Lake in the rain, but when the sun comes out and hundreds of people appear out of nowhere, I say to myself "You LIVE here. You should be out there, too, enjoying yourself like the rest of them."

Living in Green Lake Could be Bad for your Pocketbook

I say this because it's not cheap to be living in Green Lake. It's a very cool place to be, and cool is expensive. If it weren't expensive, can you imagine how many more people would be living here? The traffic jams would be bad. Fortunately, the walkability score where I live is 89 out of 100, so even if there's a lot of traffic, I can get around on foot. Unfortunately, there are a lot of great shops and restaurants contributing to that excellent walkability score. That means there are a lot of places to spend money, which is why I said living in Green Lake could be bad for your pocketbook.

Living in Green Lake Could be Dangerous

I say this because there is one of the most ridiculous intersections in the entire world at the corner (if you want to call it a "corner") of Greenlake, Woodlawn, & Ravenna. Intersections usually involve 2 streets, but this intersection involves 3 streets. Therefore, more than one car, and sometimes as many as three, are in the intersection together at the same time. I haven't been killed there yet, but the thought does cross my mind from time to time.

So, in closing, if you're not worried about your weight, and you don't care about your career, if someone just left you a lot of money and you like living on the edge, you should consider living in Green Lake!