The St Aug Blog

by Sean Hess (www.SeanHess.com), Broker and Manager for St. Augustine Team Realty (www.StAugustineTeamRealty.com).   Join us on Facebook.

I spent this past weekend at the Florida Realtor’s convention in Orlando.  Part of it was networking, part of it was finding new and better ways to serve our customers, and some of it was to pick up some continuing ed. 

As a Realtor you have to pick up a certain amount of continuing ed every two years.  But I dread the classes because they are always chock full of goofballs.

I don’t say this in a derogatory way: I’m sure every industry is as full of goofballs as real estate is.  But in real estate, the continuing ed courses are where the goofballs come to shine.  This week they shined especially brightly in a class I took on selling real estate to buyers from outside the United States.

It actually started even before the class started.  I was sitting there before class getting organized when suddenly a “SLAP!” sounding like a gunshot made me jump nearly out of my chair.

There was a business card sitting on top of my stuff.  I look up to see a dude with thinning hair, a stained polo, and a cheap belt with pee stains on his trousers, licking his lips. 

“I’m [name witheld] from [name witheld] Relaty in Naples.  You have customers in Naples give me a call. Can I have a card of yours?”

“I’m sorry, I’m fresh out…gave them out this morning.” 

I think to myself… “10 points for networking but I wouldn’t call you if you were the last Realtor in Naples.”

Studying with the Goofballs in Orlando: Pleasure Island it Was Not

Drool falling off his lip, Card Slapper from moves to the next person. The gunshot again: “SLAP!”

There would be more Card Slappers.  They were abundant on day one of the convention and all equally dingy, but they largely disappeared by day three.  Either their meds ran out or they wandered out into traffic, zombie-like, and were hit trying to slap cards on moving VW Passats.

So then we get into the class:

Instructor: “An ITIN is issued by the IRS to individuals who are required to have a U.S. taxpayer ID number but do not have one.  It is for federal tax reporting only and does not authorize employment in the U.S.”

BlondeInTheBack: “Does this mean it allows them to get a job?”

Instructor: “No, the ITIN is not for employment, it’s for witholding income on sales or income producing real estate.”

BlondeInTheBack:  “So they can’t use it to get a job?”

Instructor: “No, they can’t use it to get a job.”

And then suddenly we are interupted by a doofus know-it-all in a pink oxford.

PinkOxford: “Well they can’t get an ITIN if they are trying to get U.S. citizenship.”

Instructor: “If someone is transitioning from a Green Card to getting citizenship they will have a taxpayer ID anyway…”

PinkOxford (interupting): “Well, if they are transistioning from another status to get their Green Card they cannot get an ITIN…”

Instructor (interupting back): “This is a class to make you aware of the existence of the ITIN and the various hurdles foreigners face when buying or selling property in the U.S.  It is not meant to be a class on Immigration Law or Tax Law.  As I’ve mentioned before, you need work hand-in-hand with a good immigration attorney and CPA.  Now let’s move on.”

PinkOxford sits there in stony silence, sulking for the rest of the class.

As the class winds down we get a final question from an angry dude in the back wearing a black bowling shirt, unbottoned to the navel with gold chains resting on his graying chest hair.

BowlingShirt: “Not to get off the subject, but are you aware of IRS form 8288?”

Instructor: “Huh?”

BowlingShirt: “Because I don’t remember you talking about 8288. You should know about it.”

Instructor: “We covered 8288 and 8288-A before the break. An hour ago.”

BowlingShirt (visibly upset): “WELL, I just wanted to know if you ever heard of it!”

Now BowlingShirt sits in stony silence, sulking for the rest of the class.

The rest of the class, the normal ones, give a collective, “WTF?” look to each other.

And then the class ended and we all went our separate ways. 

As a disclaimer, though I don’t wear bowling shirts or gold chains to conventions, I am as big a goofball as the folks I pointed out in this story.  But I dress nice so people don’t suspect, and I keep my mouth shut so I don’t advertise it.