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On occasion I have been known to watch “South Park”. I love the way they take a current event and then “cross the line” with it. It can be a beautiful thing when the creators are on their game. One episode reminded me of when I first met my co-writer.
The overall theme of the episode revolved around someone not going along with an “agenda”. When this happened the phrase “There is a Turd in the Punch Bowl” was uttered and the person was removed. It was code for we have a “free thinker” and someone who isn’t drinking the “Punch” (or kool-aid if you like). The beauty of this is that my co-writer chose the name Turd Furgeson. Ohh, the cosmic irony.
By now you should know that Turd Furgeson didn’t go along with the Mortgage Devil’s agenda at all. She hadn’t been drinking his Punch in quite awhile. It became a source of displeasure for him and his cohort…who I would like to introduce now. This woman shall be called Cruella Deville from this point forward. She is a middle aged woman who has the most fake laugh…bordering on cackle…that I have ever heard. Her husband is a successful Doctor in the area..so she doesn't need the money. Why does she work in the mortgage industry?....because she is Cruella and she needs to steal puppies to make fur coats?...or to take advantage of mortgage customers to finance her wool sweater and wool skirt habit? I am not sure. She chain smoked cigarettes all day and ran around the office between smoke breaks totally freaking out yelling “I am so SCREWED”…all…day…long. She never met a loan that wasn’t a total crisis. She created more drama than a Broadway production on a daily basis. She would run around screaming, cursing, throwing her hands up…. and then suddenly…the phone would ring. At a quick snap she would transform the rage into a sugary sweet demeanor. It was sickening to watch. It was better not to have eaten any greasy food that could easily come up when you were in her presence. The probability that I would vomit after watching this show was very high.
I recall one evening I am talking to one of the Mortgage Devil’s Minion’s…one that I actually like a little….and here comes Cruella. She is in full on freak out mode:
Cruella: “A. Hole…darling…have you heard that Turd Furgeson is down at the Beach office stealing loans from all of us”.
Me: “uhhh…what?”
Cruella: “Oh yeah, she is down there picking up all of the phones call that could be for any of us…and she is taking the loan applications all for herself”.
Me: “hmmm…Really?”
Cruella: “Yes, the Mortgage Devil is pissed. He said that he explained to her she had to find out who the Loan Officer was that handled the loan and then pass it to them. But she isn’t doing that. He said that wasn’t the deal.”
Me: “Well, I planned to make some stops at the Beach at the end of the week and stop in that office. I guess I will get to meet her.”
Cruella: “Well you need to sit and there and listen to what she is doing and tell the Mortgage Devil. He needs proof. Better yet, tell me and I will tell the Mortgage Devil”.
Me: “Why would I do that? I am not her boss.”
Cruella: “Jesus Christ, don’t you see that she is ripping all us off??!!”
Me: “ I will give you a full report. Happy?”
Apparently, Turd wasn’t going along with the Mortgage Devil’s and Cruella Deville’s plan. So, there was a Turd in the Punch Bowl and I was supposed to help flush it? Not my style. I had no intention of being a spy or tattle-tailing. I just needed a break from Gilligan’s Island and Cruella Deville’s stupid daily shit. I knew none of my clients were being stolen by Turd because I didn’t give out the number to that office to ANYONE. I don’t think I even knew the number for that office. I didn’t even want people calling ANY office for fear the call would be directed elsewhere by the Ever-clear Pickled Bitchy Receptionist. Everyone had my cell phone number and that is how everyone reached me.
I was there for some peace and quiet and to relax a little without the constant stream of people “buzzing” my Island like Crop Dusters. I pull into the parking lot and see what I believe is the Turd’s mode of transportation. A Volvo Station Wagon. That is odd? The Mortgage Devil had a Volvo Station Wagon (and 10 other cars) too. I guess I didn’t get the Corporate Memo about Loan Officers driving Volvo Station Wagons. Oh, well. Boring Car…hopefully she is not as boring as her mode of transportation. When I walk past it I notice a Chicago Bears magnet attached to it. I figured it must be her husbands and he must be from the Mid-West. I roll in and the greeting was less than warm. Great, who pissed in her Cheerios? No worries, I have some chicken and it is quiet…except she talks very loud on the phone. Hopefully, she can stop talking for a few seconds while I check out some Washington Redskins news and plan for my next tailgate. I am at this office for some rest and relaxation not hear her blabber all day with lunatic customers. So, I notice this little window between the offices. Weird? What the hell is that for…passing joints…passing a flask of whiskey back in forth? Who knew?
So, I am doing my usual method of getting to know someone...it involves me sitting and observing…not saying much. What have I observed? She talks loud and is constantly on the phone…and she doesn’t like me. Ok, this is going to be challenge to figure out who she really is…so, I make it my personal mission.
The next several times I stop by the office…she started an annoying habit of running out the back door to talk on her cell phone as soon as I walked through the door. But due to the volume she speaks on the phone…and the thin walls in this office…I could figure out she was inviting her friends to the office. So, her friends would stop by…one that talked as much as her and the other seemed drunk or high or both all the time. After this scenario unfolded the same way several times…I figured this was intentional because she needed a buffer between us. She hated me. Why? Because she thought I was one of Devil’s Minion. She had no idea I was smiling and nodding to the Mortgage Devil while I was planning on how I could take him down. We had the same goal but were stuck in an ultra-competitive environment (created and encouraged by the Mortgage Devil), so we didn’t realize that we should be allies not foes.
I don’t recall the exact conversation, but I think we were talking about our children and she suddenly started not hating me so much. Then we got to know each other a little better and we realized we both had a deep hatred for the Mortgage Devil in common. Then things got really interesting…stay tuned folks.
Showing posts with label Beginnings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beginnings. Show all posts
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Welcome to Hell, I Forgot You Were Coming...
So my first day as a Mortgage Banker finally arrives and with it a promotion from the more tawdry title of Mortgage Broker. The air conditioning in my Volvo station wagon dies that day, I remember this vividly because I drove 40 miles to meet the Mortgage Devil at what would be my new office wearing a black dress, with no air conditioning, on a 95 degree day at the beach. The black dress thing was part of my notion that now that I was a banker, rather than a broker, I had to dress like I could also handle your funeral arrangements and host your wake. This was an idea I eventually shitcanned in favor of wearing whatever I felt like.
Excitedly I run up the steps to thrust open the office door and greet my new and prosperous life....It's fucking locked. I am now super grateful I am wearing black despite the heat because I'm sweating my ass off and pretty sure any other clothing choice would ruin my only chance to make a great first impression.
I peer inside, no people are evident. I remember that there is a front and back door, of course, they probably just forgot to unlock the back door. I run around the building in my 3 inch heels, sweating profusely (insert your favorite sweating like phrase here....) tug on the front door and you guessed it....locked. Motherfucker. First, I question myself. Did I get the my first day right? Yes, the Mortgage Devil insisted I start today and that we meet here, get me settled in and then go have lunch. Is the time right? Check.
Down the list I go, but now 5 torturous minutes have passed and I am HOT!!!!!!! I'm wearing long sleeves because I rationalized that banks are always really well air-conditioned. Take it from my tenure at the Bank of Hell, seriously, it is hot as balls in Hell.
Finally, I call the Mortgage Devil, the man who took every one of my phone calls when he was wooing me and promised to take care of my every need once I came to Hell. Voicemail. I leave a message, get into my car and head to get some water. On the way I call the other branch of Bank of Hell. I ask for the Mortgage Devil and an incredibly bitchy voice informs me he is on the phone. I'm explaining that I'm the new loan officer and am starting today and he is supposed to let me into my office at which point she cuts me off and tells me there are five calls holding for him and she will have him call me as soon as he can. Fuck, if he is in that office he is at least 40 minutes away which means I'm faced with the choice of a very hot Volvo (this is when leather seats suck) or killing time somewhere. Unfortunately everywhere I know to kill time in the area is a bar, probably not a good idea on my first day as a grown up banker. So, sensibly, I choose to drive the beach highway until he calls me which I'm expecting will just be a few minutes.
So now an hour has passed, I have had to put fuel in my car and I am supremely jealous of all the people in their swimsuits headed to the ocean. I finally get the call from the Mortgage Devil. Of course he apologizes, he got hung up and blah blah blah. He tells me it was a bad idea to have my first day at that office anyway, I should just come to the other branch where he is and meet the staff who were excited to meet me anyway. Like a good salesman, the Mortgage Devil is trying to convince me his fuckup would actually be better for me than his original plan. This is a tactic all loan officers use, usually on their customers though, not on other loan officers. It's like my father always said, "Never try and bullshit a bullshitter, they know what you're up to."
I show up at the office where everyone is excited to meet me to find no one knows I am coming or who I am. No one looks excited. In fact, all the women there look pissed and bitchy. I am getting my first tinge of regret. I was not envisioning a bunch of dowdy, middle-aged, scowling bitches when I heard "excited to meet you". Finally, the bitchy receptionist lets out a huge sigh...."I guess we will have to find somewhere to put you, he will be on the phone for a few minutes." Find somewhere to put me, what the fuck? I feel like one of those crappy decorations someone gives you that you are entitled to display when they come to your house and then you eventually sell at a garage sale and pretend it was broken.
Here is something I learned that day. When normal people say they will be on the phone a few minutes, they usually mean between 3 and 5 minutes. The really poor estimators among us might actually mean 10 minutes. The Mortgage Devil's definition of a few minutes ranges from hours to weeks.
The bitchy receptionist, who looks like she got drunk on an I.V. of Everclear and fell asleep in a tanning bed for 20 years, sticks me at a desk. The Mortgage Devil looking dapper in his Top Producer and Vice President getup is pacing by me having a conversation on a headset, giving me the universal signal for one minute (index finger up), and simultaneously fielding calls on his cell phone while throwing files and paper on his assistant's desks. The best part is that every time he leaves the room his assistants shoot him dirty looks and swear like sailors about what a fucker he is. No one acknowledges me. I start unloading some of my files on a desk and after more than an hour of the weirdest fucking scene of my professional life, the Mortgage Devil gets off the phone. Yippee, now my new mentor will take me under his wing and make me feel welcome here. Yeah, not so much.
He introduces me to the bitches in the office. Now to be fair, a few of them are nice and decent people, but they are outnumbered and therefore I will refer to all of them as bitches. No one really even smiles, they just look annoyed. After two minutes of awkward introductions he gives me a two minute tour and returns me back to my desk which really isn't even my desk and is covered with his self promoting marketing shit. I'm informed they don't have a computer for me yet, it seems they don't have a user name or password for me to get on the computer network either. Oddly enough, it seems that the entire corporate structure of Bank of Hell, and the local management to include the Mortgage Devil, was largely unaware that I was coming to work there. How could this be I wonder, I was his top recruit?
He basically dismisses me and tells me to come back tomorrow, when they are better organized. Our whole exchange (where he is off the phone) takes approximately 5 minutes. Then he is signaling for the bitchy receptionist to send another call through to his headset and he is off, maniacally pacing the halls again.
The reality hits me pretty quickly on my way home in the blistering hot Volvo. I was treated like a drunken college girl...The Mortgage Devil got me into bed but is never going to call me again. I feel dirty from the realization I have been played, oh, and also the profuse sweating of the morning. I wish I could say it was the last time the Mortgage Devil made me feel like I needed a shower.....
Excitedly I run up the steps to thrust open the office door and greet my new and prosperous life....It's fucking locked. I am now super grateful I am wearing black despite the heat because I'm sweating my ass off and pretty sure any other clothing choice would ruin my only chance to make a great first impression.
I peer inside, no people are evident. I remember that there is a front and back door, of course, they probably just forgot to unlock the back door. I run around the building in my 3 inch heels, sweating profusely (insert your favorite sweating like phrase here....) tug on the front door and you guessed it....locked. Motherfucker. First, I question myself. Did I get the my first day right? Yes, the Mortgage Devil insisted I start today and that we meet here, get me settled in and then go have lunch. Is the time right? Check.
Down the list I go, but now 5 torturous minutes have passed and I am HOT!!!!!!! I'm wearing long sleeves because I rationalized that banks are always really well air-conditioned. Take it from my tenure at the Bank of Hell, seriously, it is hot as balls in Hell.
Finally, I call the Mortgage Devil, the man who took every one of my phone calls when he was wooing me and promised to take care of my every need once I came to Hell. Voicemail. I leave a message, get into my car and head to get some water. On the way I call the other branch of Bank of Hell. I ask for the Mortgage Devil and an incredibly bitchy voice informs me he is on the phone. I'm explaining that I'm the new loan officer and am starting today and he is supposed to let me into my office at which point she cuts me off and tells me there are five calls holding for him and she will have him call me as soon as he can. Fuck, if he is in that office he is at least 40 minutes away which means I'm faced with the choice of a very hot Volvo (this is when leather seats suck) or killing time somewhere. Unfortunately everywhere I know to kill time in the area is a bar, probably not a good idea on my first day as a grown up banker. So, sensibly, I choose to drive the beach highway until he calls me which I'm expecting will just be a few minutes.
So now an hour has passed, I have had to put fuel in my car and I am supremely jealous of all the people in their swimsuits headed to the ocean. I finally get the call from the Mortgage Devil. Of course he apologizes, he got hung up and blah blah blah. He tells me it was a bad idea to have my first day at that office anyway, I should just come to the other branch where he is and meet the staff who were excited to meet me anyway. Like a good salesman, the Mortgage Devil is trying to convince me his fuckup would actually be better for me than his original plan. This is a tactic all loan officers use, usually on their customers though, not on other loan officers. It's like my father always said, "Never try and bullshit a bullshitter, they know what you're up to."
I show up at the office where everyone is excited to meet me to find no one knows I am coming or who I am. No one looks excited. In fact, all the women there look pissed and bitchy. I am getting my first tinge of regret. I was not envisioning a bunch of dowdy, middle-aged, scowling bitches when I heard "excited to meet you". Finally, the bitchy receptionist lets out a huge sigh...."I guess we will have to find somewhere to put you, he will be on the phone for a few minutes." Find somewhere to put me, what the fuck? I feel like one of those crappy decorations someone gives you that you are entitled to display when they come to your house and then you eventually sell at a garage sale and pretend it was broken.
Here is something I learned that day. When normal people say they will be on the phone a few minutes, they usually mean between 3 and 5 minutes. The really poor estimators among us might actually mean 10 minutes. The Mortgage Devil's definition of a few minutes ranges from hours to weeks.
The bitchy receptionist, who looks like she got drunk on an I.V. of Everclear and fell asleep in a tanning bed for 20 years, sticks me at a desk. The Mortgage Devil looking dapper in his Top Producer and Vice President getup is pacing by me having a conversation on a headset, giving me the universal signal for one minute (index finger up), and simultaneously fielding calls on his cell phone while throwing files and paper on his assistant's desks. The best part is that every time he leaves the room his assistants shoot him dirty looks and swear like sailors about what a fucker he is. No one acknowledges me. I start unloading some of my files on a desk and after more than an hour of the weirdest fucking scene of my professional life, the Mortgage Devil gets off the phone. Yippee, now my new mentor will take me under his wing and make me feel welcome here. Yeah, not so much.
He introduces me to the bitches in the office. Now to be fair, a few of them are nice and decent people, but they are outnumbered and therefore I will refer to all of them as bitches. No one really even smiles, they just look annoyed. After two minutes of awkward introductions he gives me a two minute tour and returns me back to my desk which really isn't even my desk and is covered with his self promoting marketing shit. I'm informed they don't have a computer for me yet, it seems they don't have a user name or password for me to get on the computer network either. Oddly enough, it seems that the entire corporate structure of Bank of Hell, and the local management to include the Mortgage Devil, was largely unaware that I was coming to work there. How could this be I wonder, I was his top recruit?
He basically dismisses me and tells me to come back tomorrow, when they are better organized. Our whole exchange (where he is off the phone) takes approximately 5 minutes. Then he is signaling for the bitchy receptionist to send another call through to his headset and he is off, maniacally pacing the halls again.
The reality hits me pretty quickly on my way home in the blistering hot Volvo. I was treated like a drunken college girl...The Mortgage Devil got me into bed but is never going to call me again. I feel dirty from the realization I have been played, oh, and also the profuse sweating of the morning. I wish I could say it was the last time the Mortgage Devil made me feel like I needed a shower.....
Friday, January 22, 2010
How I Met The Devil
So this blog was inspired by the worst boss in the history of the universe. We have many names for him (most are r rated), but for this blog post I will refer to him as the Mortgage Devil.
My first eight months in the mortgage business were relatively uneventful. I didn't have a lot of business because I was new so I probably only closed 4-5 loans a month for somewhere between $500,000 and $750,000 in volume. I didn't work much and I didn't really care about making more money.
Three strange and unrelated events conspired to result in more business for me which in turn made me more ambitious. First, my friend who got me into the business left for another brokerage. Turns out, she didn't have access to as many loan products so she started sending me referrals. Second, and this is totally true, one of my colleagues breast implant ruptured (it sounds funny but could have been fatal so stop laughing) and she was out for quite awhile. At first I worked for free on all her loans while she was recuperating, but after two months of that, she decided not to come back and all her customers and real estate agents started referring me business. Third, and this was the tipping point, I met a real estate agent who was friends with the Mortgage Devil. The Mortgage Devil was one of the most successful and well known loan officers not only regionally but nationally.
Suddenly business was pouring in. The real estate agent started sending me business the Mortgage Devil couldn't do. I went from doing 4-5 loans to 12-15 and my income went from about $4,000 a month to $15,000 a month. Then the Mortgage Devil contacts me to do a loan for him. I was able to finance investment properties with no down payment and he wanted to buy a rental house in a resort market. This moment forever changed my life. With the man's tax returns in my possession, I suddenly realized that the industry I was in was incredibly lucrative. I was shocked to discover that he made more a year than coaches in the NFL, his 401K I was pretty sure I could have lived on and never work again. I began to covet.
The Mortgage Devil started calling me trying to get me to go to work for his bank as a loan officer. I was flattered, but wary. I was on the fence about it because I had a lot of freedom and was comfortable where I was plus I was scared to go play in the Devil's sandbox.
One totally unexpected event forced my hand. I turned 30 and the president of my company was in town. I invited him to my friend's house for the party they were having for me. Turns out the man could drink, and drink he did. He drank nearly all of one of my birthday presents, a rather terrific bottle of Patron Tequila. Here's where the going got weird. We didn't think he could drive so I took his stumbling self up to my friend's guest room. He dropped his pants and skibbies and instructed me to "Touch It". I ran downstairs, chugged some wine, and told my girlfriend.
Awhile later we checked and he had passed out on the floor, junk exposed and pants around ankles. Holy Awkwardness. The next morning he came downstairs, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed out. I on the other hand, chose to not go into the office to avoid him and worked furiously with my loan processor to get the Mortgage Devil's loan to close that day. I decided that since I couldn't imagine ever respecting the president of my company again I would see what I could get the Devil to offer me to cross to the dark side.
Typically when you are recruited by a mortgage company you give them all your commission statements so they can determine what kind of incentive package they will give you. Since the Mortgage Devil seemed desperate to get me there and my commission statements would not support the volume of business he was under the impression I had been consistently doing, I bluffed. I told him if he wanted me he would make me an offer with no documentation, basically like all the no doc loans I was closing. He bit, told me it was unorthodox (which it totally is), and offered me $20,000 to buy out my pipeline (this is a loan officer's future stream of loan closings)and guaranteed commission of $5,000 per month for 6 months. I had been in the business one year and had just been offered $50,000 as a signing bonus just to change companies. I signed the paperwork and resigned from my current company via email.
The negotiation was the only time I had the power in my relationship with the Devil until I left his bank. The time A. Hole and I spent there and the experiences we had will shock the hell out of you, don't miss it. At the very least, your current boss will look fantastic in comparison to the Devil.
My first eight months in the mortgage business were relatively uneventful. I didn't have a lot of business because I was new so I probably only closed 4-5 loans a month for somewhere between $500,000 and $750,000 in volume. I didn't work much and I didn't really care about making more money.
Three strange and unrelated events conspired to result in more business for me which in turn made me more ambitious. First, my friend who got me into the business left for another brokerage. Turns out, she didn't have access to as many loan products so she started sending me referrals. Second, and this is totally true, one of my colleagues breast implant ruptured (it sounds funny but could have been fatal so stop laughing) and she was out for quite awhile. At first I worked for free on all her loans while she was recuperating, but after two months of that, she decided not to come back and all her customers and real estate agents started referring me business. Third, and this was the tipping point, I met a real estate agent who was friends with the Mortgage Devil. The Mortgage Devil was one of the most successful and well known loan officers not only regionally but nationally.
Suddenly business was pouring in. The real estate agent started sending me business the Mortgage Devil couldn't do. I went from doing 4-5 loans to 12-15 and my income went from about $4,000 a month to $15,000 a month. Then the Mortgage Devil contacts me to do a loan for him. I was able to finance investment properties with no down payment and he wanted to buy a rental house in a resort market. This moment forever changed my life. With the man's tax returns in my possession, I suddenly realized that the industry I was in was incredibly lucrative. I was shocked to discover that he made more a year than coaches in the NFL, his 401K I was pretty sure I could have lived on and never work again. I began to covet.
The Mortgage Devil started calling me trying to get me to go to work for his bank as a loan officer. I was flattered, but wary. I was on the fence about it because I had a lot of freedom and was comfortable where I was plus I was scared to go play in the Devil's sandbox.
One totally unexpected event forced my hand. I turned 30 and the president of my company was in town. I invited him to my friend's house for the party they were having for me. Turns out the man could drink, and drink he did. He drank nearly all of one of my birthday presents, a rather terrific bottle of Patron Tequila. Here's where the going got weird. We didn't think he could drive so I took his stumbling self up to my friend's guest room. He dropped his pants and skibbies and instructed me to "Touch It". I ran downstairs, chugged some wine, and told my girlfriend.
Awhile later we checked and he had passed out on the floor, junk exposed and pants around ankles. Holy Awkwardness. The next morning he came downstairs, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed out. I on the other hand, chose to not go into the office to avoid him and worked furiously with my loan processor to get the Mortgage Devil's loan to close that day. I decided that since I couldn't imagine ever respecting the president of my company again I would see what I could get the Devil to offer me to cross to the dark side.
Typically when you are recruited by a mortgage company you give them all your commission statements so they can determine what kind of incentive package they will give you. Since the Mortgage Devil seemed desperate to get me there and my commission statements would not support the volume of business he was under the impression I had been consistently doing, I bluffed. I told him if he wanted me he would make me an offer with no documentation, basically like all the no doc loans I was closing. He bit, told me it was unorthodox (which it totally is), and offered me $20,000 to buy out my pipeline (this is a loan officer's future stream of loan closings)and guaranteed commission of $5,000 per month for 6 months. I had been in the business one year and had just been offered $50,000 as a signing bonus just to change companies. I signed the paperwork and resigned from my current company via email.
The negotiation was the only time I had the power in my relationship with the Devil until I left his bank. The time A. Hole and I spent there and the experiences we had will shock the hell out of you, don't miss it. At the very least, your current boss will look fantastic in comparison to the Devil.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Banks = Boring
I got into the mortgage business sorta' by design. I have a degree in Finance and thought I would either work in Securities with a Brokerage Firm or work for a Bank. Well, I ended up with the later and starting working for a Bank right out of College in 1994. I actually took the incredibly dull tract of training to be a Bank Manager...the epitome of boring.
After working in several areas of the Bank during my first year, I decided to drop the Management Training program and just go to work in the Mortgage Department. Basically, the reasons for jumping into the Mortgage Department were as follows:
1) The most money to be made in a Bank is in the Mortgage Department. If you think all areas of Banking equates to great money, you would be wrong. You could make the same working at Wal-Mart in management. The only upside of working at the Bank is that you aren't subjected to the "people of Wal-Mart". Go "google" that site when you get a chance...you won't be disappointed.
2) The other parts of the Bank (IRA's. Branch Management, New Accounts, etc.) were so incredibly boring that I feared I would go postal one day. My target would have been some "Old Ass Fucker" that wanted to argue the quarterly interest on his IRA certificate of deposit was supposed to compounded monthly instead of quarterly (see what I mean about boring).
3) You have a bit more freedom to get "out of the office" when you are in the Mortgage Department. The ability to get "out of the office" and not be "chained to my desk" was important for the management of my Adult Attention Deficit Disorder.
The Bank I worked for was small and ultra-conservative. You actually had to qualify for the mortgage loan. When I say qualify...I mean the following:
1) Have a down payment of at least 20%
2) Have GREAT credit.
3) Have the ability to meet qualification ratios.
4) Have the ability to provide: 6 months of bank statements, 2 years of pay stubs, and W-2's.
5) Have the desire and willingness to give up your first born child as collateral.
Perhaps 5) is an exaggeration. We promise everything in this blog will be the absolute truth (as you will read later on, we couldn't even make this shit up).
To make this long story short, my counterpart and I came from totally different backgrounds before we met each other at a large National Mortgage Company at the height of the housing boom. Our experiences before we met were as different as night and day. My counterpart wrote mortgages for people a day out of Bankruptcy...the Bank I worked for treated people with a Bankruptcy like...well...a Leper.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
After working in several areas of the Bank during my first year, I decided to drop the Management Training program and just go to work in the Mortgage Department. Basically, the reasons for jumping into the Mortgage Department were as follows:
1) The most money to be made in a Bank is in the Mortgage Department. If you think all areas of Banking equates to great money, you would be wrong. You could make the same working at Wal-Mart in management. The only upside of working at the Bank is that you aren't subjected to the "people of Wal-Mart". Go "google" that site when you get a chance...you won't be disappointed.
2) The other parts of the Bank (IRA's. Branch Management, New Accounts, etc.) were so incredibly boring that I feared I would go postal one day. My target would have been some "Old Ass Fucker" that wanted to argue the quarterly interest on his IRA certificate of deposit was supposed to compounded monthly instead of quarterly (see what I mean about boring).
3) You have a bit more freedom to get "out of the office" when you are in the Mortgage Department. The ability to get "out of the office" and not be "chained to my desk" was important for the management of my Adult Attention Deficit Disorder.
The Bank I worked for was small and ultra-conservative. You actually had to qualify for the mortgage loan. When I say qualify...I mean the following:
1) Have a down payment of at least 20%
2) Have GREAT credit.
3) Have the ability to meet qualification ratios.
4) Have the ability to provide: 6 months of bank statements, 2 years of pay stubs, and W-2's.
5) Have the desire and willingness to give up your first born child as collateral.
Perhaps 5) is an exaggeration. We promise everything in this blog will be the absolute truth (as you will read later on, we couldn't even make this shit up).
To make this long story short, my counterpart and I came from totally different backgrounds before we met each other at a large National Mortgage Company at the height of the housing boom. Our experiences before we met were as different as night and day. My counterpart wrote mortgages for people a day out of Bankruptcy...the Bank I worked for treated people with a Bankruptcy like...well...a Leper.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Shock and Awe
I got into the mortgage business by accident. A friend who was already working as a loan officer sold me on joining the ranks by extolling the amounts of money I could make and pointing out that I could drink at lunch while making all this money. Brilliant!
So it was. In 2004, I became a mortgage consultant (mortgage ho) and started in the industry with no training, no experience as a loan officer, and no fucking clue what was in store for me.
I remember my second day at work vividly. My friend was showing me the ropes and was explaining how to put loans through automated underwriting and shop different lenders for the best programs and rates for our valued customers. About this time she gets a phone call from someone who wants to buy a home but had recently filed for bankruptcy. She explained to the customer that it wasn't likely that she could find anyone to do the loan but promised to check it out and call the potential borrower back.
Turns out there was not only one lender willing to finance this recently bankrupt borrower to purchase a home, there were many. In fact, multiple lenders would let the customer buy their new home only 1 day out of bankruptcy. My shock manifested itself in two loudly high pitched questions: 1. Are you fucking kidding me? 2. Why the fuck would someone lend Mr. Recently Bankrupt money?
The sad thing is that reaction became less frequent as I became more savvy and aware that most anybody could get a loan, regardless of whether they should or not. That shock and confusion as to why money was lent didn't really return for me until I left the business in 2007. I fondly remember the bankruptcy borrower day as the beginning of the Shock and Awe portion of my life and the day I realized there really are jobs where cocktails are acceptable at lunch.
So it was. In 2004, I became a mortgage consultant (mortgage ho) and started in the industry with no training, no experience as a loan officer, and no fucking clue what was in store for me.
I remember my second day at work vividly. My friend was showing me the ropes and was explaining how to put loans through automated underwriting and shop different lenders for the best programs and rates for our valued customers. About this time she gets a phone call from someone who wants to buy a home but had recently filed for bankruptcy. She explained to the customer that it wasn't likely that she could find anyone to do the loan but promised to check it out and call the potential borrower back.
Turns out there was not only one lender willing to finance this recently bankrupt borrower to purchase a home, there were many. In fact, multiple lenders would let the customer buy their new home only 1 day out of bankruptcy. My shock manifested itself in two loudly high pitched questions: 1. Are you fucking kidding me? 2. Why the fuck would someone lend Mr. Recently Bankrupt money?
The sad thing is that reaction became less frequent as I became more savvy and aware that most anybody could get a loan, regardless of whether they should or not. That shock and confusion as to why money was lent didn't really return for me until I left the business in 2007. I fondly remember the bankruptcy borrower day as the beginning of the Shock and Awe portion of my life and the day I realized there really are jobs where cocktails are acceptable at lunch.
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