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Unreal estate

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Years ago I gave serious thought to getting my real estate license after I’d found a buyer for a large ranch and didn’t get one thin dime out of the deal, thank you very much. Several of my road agent buddies got their licenses and every now and then you hear about one of them getting a commission check for more money than I make in a year. It’s a natural fit because I don’t know of anyone who visits more ranches or meets more prospective buyers than the guys who travel for livestock publications working ring at cattle auctions.

My good Texas buddy E.C. has had his broker’s license for years and from the outside looking in seems a profitable endeavor. I don’t know anyone who knows more rich people than E.C. He goes hunting with Baseball Hall of Famers and used to work all the big Keeneland sales in Kentucky where multi-million dollar horses sell to billionaire Arab sheiks.

Recently retired from working ring, E.C. is the Godfather of all ring men. One day he’d be selling pricey art in Santa Fe, the next week he might be helping sell collectible cars in Scottsdale and the next he’s traveling all across the country selling real estate at auction. I don’t know any ring man who has more mileage on his odometer than E.C. so in our last conversation I asked when he was going to slow down. E.C. replied, “Funny you should ask. Margie and I just had a meeting with our financial adviser and after looking at our finances he estimated that at the current rate my offspring are producing costly grandkids I should be able to retire on the morning of the day I die.”

Being a ranch real real-