Proof that the housing slump is about to get worse

I just got off the phone with our real estate agent. 

No, we're not selling the house we just bought - I'm done with real estate posts for now.  Then again, maybe not.  You see, she called because she's been trying to get me to become a real estate agent.  She was impressed with my obsessive research (a lot of the times I knew more about the houses we looked at than she did.  I am a world-class Googler!) and my compulsion to improve listing descriptions.  I can't help it - it's the marketer in me. 

Once, I told a seller's agent that while the house she was showing us was not for me, she should mention the attached two-car garage "which is a rarity in a 1930's colonial in this price range.  And I would advise your clients to remove the brown drapes in the living room.  We want light.  Light is good!"

She looked at me like I was crazy.  My agent, on the other hand, started her campaign to get me to work with her. 

"Nah,"  I said.  "I don't need the pressure."

"You can work as much or as little as you like.  The money is good.  Think about it."

I told my husband about it that night and we had a good laugh.  I mean, I'm a suburban stay-at-home mom who is thisclose to buying a minivan because I think I want one.  If I became a part-time real estate agent the logical next step in my Donna Reed transformation would be my purchase of a vacuum cleaner so that I can finally wear my pearls.  You know, while I vacuum.

(The scary part?  I've been eyeing the Dyson website.  Send help.)

Anyways, where was I?  Oh yes, the part where my husband and I laughed about me becoming a realtor, which we did until we saw what she earned for a few hours a week looking at houses with me.  Then it wasn't funny - I could buy 50 Dysons with that kind of money.

When I told her that I wasn't ready to commit any time to this she told me that if I took a real estate class and helped her market some homes she would give me 25% of her commission on any homes we sold together.  That's 12 Dysons right there.  And I wouldn't even have to change out of my pyjamas because she's convinced I can do this from home.

People.  It's starting to sound REALLY good.

Somebody alert the Fed, because this is not a good sign for the housing market.

My timing is awful when it comes to career-related things.  When everybody was making buckets of money for playing foosball (ah, the sweet dot com days!) I decided that THAT was the perfect time to go back to school.  The genius of my strategy became evident when I graduated in 2002, right smack in the middle of the Enron/Tyco/WorldCom/Adelphia business scandals that made putting an MBA on your resume almost as attractive as saying that you have head lice.

So if I enter the real estate field, even half-assedly, I'm afraid I may just throw the country into recession.

I promise to warn you if I ever decide to take one of those weekend real estate courses.