I became a real estate agent because of a dare.

I was 27, bartending, and had just met the woman I was going to marry. I needed a real career. I called my uncle — who owned his own real estate brokerage — to ask what I should go back to school for. He said: why not get your real estate license?

So I did.

That was 2004.

In 2006, I left the security of working with my uncle and went out on my own.

My uncle told me I’d fail.

I was scared shitless.

Rather than give in to the fear, my wife and I bought a townhouse that everyone said was in a questionable neighbourhood — dated finishes, office-grade carpet, tiny rooms. But it was a 5-minute walk to the subway, 10 minutes to the DVP, and had a deep backyard for a townhouse.

I couldn’t see what the problem was.

We replaced the carpet with laminate. Put an acrylic tub over the old one. Had a carpenter open the wall between the kitchen and living room. My mom — who has a serious green thumb — landscaped the backyard.

We lived there less than a year. The home went up nearly $100,000.

That house taught me everything.

Not about renovating. About seeing clearly when other people are seeing warning signs.

I’ve bought and sold six homes since then using the same approach — find the one others walk past; the worst house on the best street, understand what’s actually wrong with it, fix what matters, and move on.

I do the same thing with old electronics. The principle is identical: overlooked potential, informed effort, honest outcome.

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Here’s what I believe about this industry that most agents won’t say out loud:

Real estate agents are not entrepreneurs.

Selling houses is not a problem that needs solving — it’s a service that needs delivering.

The agents chasing volume to be the #1 agent, self-serving industry awards, and social media clout are not thinking about you.

They’re thinking about their next deal.

What pisses me off most is agents who don’t think for themselves. The ones who give every seller the same renovation checklist regardless of the house.

The ones who pressure instead of guide.

My job is to ask you the right questions, give you honest information, and help you make your own decision.

If you walk away feeling helped — not sold — I’ve done you a proper service.

Helping you helps me support my wife, 3 kids and my cat with no tail.

If that sounds like what you’ve been looking for, let’s have a conversation.