A little staging story

Want to hear a little story? It all started with an email, as so many of these real-life dramas do. A few Thursdays ago my work-friend, Debbie, sent an email asking if anyone wanted to hold an open house for her new listing on Saturday or Sunday. I really like Debbie, and in a spontaneous burst of energy and good-will, I immediately wrote back and said, “I’ll take Sunday.” I already had one scheduled for my own listing Saturday, and that should have been enough … but that didn’t cross my mind before I hit “send.” Debbie wrote back and said, “Sunday is yours."

When it’s Thursday and someone mentions Sunday, what do you think? You think three days from now. Which I did. Which is why, right after church three days later, I loaded up snacks and A-boards and candles and head out to Silvana.

The house was gorgeous, and it smelled absolutely delicious. I didn’t even need my candles, because the seller had her own candle warmers going throughout the house. The place was spotless—not a crumb anywhere, all chairs pushed in, and a cozy red blanket folded and draped invitingly across the family room ottoman at a perfect 45-degree angle. 

I started my special open house guitar and piano mix playing in the background, set up a small stack of business cards and complimentary magazines, and waited for guests. But no one came … and no one came … until, two hours in, a nice couple strolled through the door and had a tour. They’d seen the sign driving by, they said. Right after they took a card and a magazine and nodded good-bye, I texted Debbie. “This house is beautiful! Just had one couple through so far.”

A few moments later, I got this response. “Um … that’s supposed to be next week.”

I’ve never left a house faster. I bolted the way you’d expect a breaker-and-enterer to bolt. Grabbing everything that said I’d been there, I flew out the door and threw it all in the back seat of my car. Then, with speed and agility I didn’t know I possessed, I ran to the road and grabbed my “Open House – Shannon Woodward” A-board and turned to throw that in the trunk. But before I could hide the last of the evidence, a truck pulled in. I’d been caught.

Hoping that a little levity might keep me out of the slammer, I smiled and stammered, “You’re home. I’m … uh … the realtor who apparently can’t read a calendar.” But it wasn’t the sellers. It was a couple hoping I could get them in a gated community at the end of the road. We spent an hour together talking about what they’re looking for, and I’ll be going to their house for a listing appointment in the near future. So there’s that.

My office had fun teasing me about this, and the week went by quickly. Before I knew it, I was back in the beautiful Silvana house, setting up everything just as I had during my test run.

But here’s the thing: the house looked exactly the same as it had the week earlier. Exactly. Same scent in the candle warmers. Same crumb-less floor. Same red blanket draped in the same 45 degree angle.

These sellers have figured out the secret to living in a staged home: be ready every moment. That’s not easy, but with a few quick tips, you may find the job a little less daunting:

--Purge where you can so there’s less mess to deal with

--Deal with your dishes the moment you’re done with them

--Create a welcoming scent. If you had fish for dinner last night, you may need to simmer some lemon slices on the stove for a bit to yank that fishy smell out of the air

--Check to see if you have dark corners in the house or under cabinets in the kitchen. Find a way to bring in a little light to those areas

--Assume, every single time you leave the house, that someone else is about to walk in behind you.

Because sometimes, they do. Even uninvited.