The Evolution of “Why”
I spent most of my twenties believing success looked a certain way.
More listings. More deals. More money. More recognition.
Like most brokers, I convinced myself that if I just stacked enough cards, eventually I’d build something permanent.
Twenty-two years later, I can tell you that’s not really how brokerage works.
Brokerage is a strange business.
You spend months or even years building momentum. A listing here. A buyer there. A lease. A closing. You stack one card on top of another until it finally feels like you’ve built something solid.
Then someone’s financing falls apart. A seller changes their mind. A tenant walks away. The market shifts. One phone call changes your entire year.
That’s simply the nature of brokerage.
So you start stacking again. Over time you realize that in this business you don’t control how or when you make money. When one part of the house of cards falls apart you just immediately start stacking things back up again. The truth is, you have no control of whether a deal makes it to closing.
You are at the mercy of the buyer, the seller, the landlord, the tenant, the market, the inspection, the bank… the wind, really. Whichever way it blows you just adjust and keep stacking.
It’s not unusual to spend months working on something only to see the house of cards fall and your commission crumble right along with it.
So you smile, say “it’s fine” and just start stacking the cards again.
For a long time, my goal was simple. Build a bigger business every year than the year before. More listings. More transactions. More production. I enjoyed the challenge, and in many ways I still do. It’s what I was taught to do at every firm that I worked at.
But somewhere along the way, my personal scorecard started changing.
Things I once believed were incredibly important slowly became less important, replaced by things I hadn’t appreciated nearly enough. It’s been a gradual shift over the last few years, one I’ve genuinely come to appreciate.
In July, Asher, my son, and I loaded up the truck, strapped on the tent, hooked up the Jeep, and pointed ourselves toward Colorado.
There wasn’t much of a plan other than to spend time together. We knew where we’d sleep each night, but beyond that we just chased whatever looked interesting. Ghost towns. Mountain passes. Rivers. Waterfalls. Fossilized dinosaur tracks that had been sitting in the same place for millions of years. Campfires. Long drives with the windows down. The kind of conversations that only happen when there isn’t anywhere else you have to be.
We talked about his favorite dinosaurs in every single Jurassic Park movie. His whole world lit up when we arrived to see actual dinosaur footprints in Clayton New Mexico. He saw the Milky Way for the first time on top of a mountain in Ouray Colorado. He learned about families who had survived in a mining town at 10,000 ft. elevation that had to tunnel out of their houses every winter just to get above the snow.
At no point did my son ask me how many deals I’d closed this year.
He didn’t ask how many listings I had.
He didn’t ask what my production numbers were.
He just wanted me there…
He didn’t want to have to compete with my phone and he didn’t have to. The memories we made and the time we spent together were worth more to me than any deal I could have been working during those same few days. It was just another step in the evolution of my “Why”.
I’ve been fortunate in my career. I’ve had years where I took home a very nice amount of money. I’ve been through bad market years where things were not as comfortable. Those of us who’ve been in brokerage a long time understand the chase. There’s always another goal. Another year to beat. Another mountain to climb.
Money matters. It always will. It creates opportunity. It provides security. It gives us choices. But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t working simply to accumulate more money.
I was working to buy back more time. Just last week I had a mentor with a considerable amount of net worth tell me
… that stuck with me.
I realized I wasn’t chasing money anymore. I was chasing what money made possible.
Everyone defines success differently. For some people it’s building the biggest business they can. For others it’s reaching financial independence as quickly as possible. There isn’t a right or wrong answer.
My definition has simply evolved, and I think having kids had a lot to do with it.
At forty-two, time has become my scorecard.
One thing brokerage teaches you is that every listing comes with responsibility. That’s a privilege, and it’s not something I take lightly. Every client deserves your best effort. Every assignment deserves your attention.
But every listing also comes with another person you’ve promised to answer. Another phone call. Another deadline. Another expectation. That’s the business.
Some brokers thrive on building larger and larger businesses, and I genuinely admire that. I hope they accomplish every goal they’ve set for themselves.
For me, though, I realized I wasn’t trying to build the biggest business possible.
I was trying to build a business that gave me more opportunities like this trip.
We all have different needs and goals and one thing that gives me joy is helping others find their “why” and helping them along their way too.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized the best businesses don’t just create income.
They create options.
The option to say yes to a Tuesday afternoon with your kids. The option to disappear into the mountains for a few days without feeling guilty. The option to be fully present when the moments that actually matter come along.
That’s become the business I’m trying to build. Not because I want to work less.
I still love this business. I love solving problems. I love helping clients navigate difficult decisions. I love putting complicated deals together. I probably always will.
But I also want the work to create something beyond another commission check.
I want it to create freedom.
Freedom to choose where my time goes. Freedom to be present with the people I love. Freedom to build a life that my business supports instead of one my business consumes.
When I started Genesis, I thought I was building another commercial real estate brokerage.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve realized I’m really trying to build something different.
A business that’s more intentional about the work it pursues. A business focused on long-term relationships instead of simply chasing more transactions. A business that represents owners thoughtfully, works incredibly hard for its clients, and still leaves room for the things that matter most outside the office.
That’s the direction we’re headed.
Twenty years from now Asher won’t remember how many deals I closed. He won’t remember my production numbers. He won’t remember what I made.
But maybe he’ll remember climbing through an old mining town in Colorado. Maybe he’ll remember finding dinosaur tracks together. Maybe he’ll remember standing in an icy mountain river and learning how to pan for gold till our hands were freezing. Maybe he’ll remember sleeping in a rooftop tent and watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and realizing just how small we are as we stared at the Milky Way and counted shooting stars.
If he remembers those things… then maybe I finally figured out what I was working for all along.
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