The $30,000 Commission I Didn't Take
Sometime in late-March 2024.
“Nick. We found it.”
This was the call I’d been looking forward to for months.
Friends and real estate clients of mine had been searching for their dream home for the better part of 18 months. They had very particular criteria, and along the way I think all of us quietly doubted there was a home — much less a property — under the sun that would check all their non-negotiable boxes.
Yet here they were, calling to tell me they’d finally found the end of the ever-elusive rainbow. And beneath it: the perfect home.
They shared the details, and I could almost literally feel the warmth of their joy through my iPhone. As an agent, these are the moments you live for.
The way they found it almost merits its own post. In short: they searched local Airbnbs, were struck by the photos of one property, reached out to the owners through the platform to ask if they’d consider selling, and sure enough, they were open to it.
Crazy, right?
“But . . .” they said.
(Why does there always have to be a ‘but’?)
“The seller refuses to work with any agents.”
. . .
Woof.
I pause the story here because I don’t think you have to be an agent to relate to the tension in this story — but if you are one, you definitely feel it.
A bit more context: my preliminary CMA valued the property at just shy of $1,300,000. At my then rate of 2.25% commission, I was expecting a payday of nearly $30,000.
And, if I can be honest for a moment, had the seller been offering 2.25%, my clients would not have blinked about giving it to me, nor would I have hesitated for a moment in cashing that fat commission check. I would have done it with a smile plastered from ear to ear on my face.
But that was not the situation. This seller was offering a big fat donut. Zero. Zip. Nada.
So what was I going to do?
Tell my friends to pony up nearly $30,000 for my ‘standard’ commission?
I knew how much they were already having to stretch themselves to their financial limits in order to afford this dream property. And, besides, they found it through their own incredible diligence. I was not the procuring cause by any stretch.
More than that: these were not just clients. They were some of the smartest, most competent people I'd ever met.
My first thought was: They could totally handle this without me.
Sometime in early-March 2024
I’m at lunch with a friend, mentor, and past client.
This guy is legitimately one of the most incredible people in the world. Case in point, he had NASA and Google battling over him. NASA would offer him a salary, and Google would double it. This went on for multiple rounds until Google finally landed a number he couldn’t refuse.
You’d never know it, though. He's the most humble, grounded person you'll ever meet. Which is part of why it means something that he's giving up his afternoon to have lunch with me.
We got to talking about the NAR settlement and how the real estate landscape might shift in the coming years.
Before that lunch, I thought the settlement was like most things — a flash in the pan. A couple of headlines, some industry hand-wringing, then business as usual.
After that lunch, I saw it differently. It was more like a nuclear missile headed straight for the way we’d conceived of buyer agency. Slow-moving, but inevitable. And the only way to get out of its path was to build something better before it arrived.
He didn’t tell me what to build. Good mentors rarely give that kind of explicit instruction.
But he helped me get attuned to the possibility of new opportunity — which, it turns out, would be presenting itself just a few weeks later.
Back to my friends and their $1.3M purchase.
Sometimes it’s a bummer when opportunity comes knocking.
We all imagine opportunity dresses up like Santa Claus and comes knocking with a bag full of gifts and fortune to immediately bestow upon us.
In my case, opportunity showed up looking a lot more like the Grinch who stole my $30,000 commission.
But fresh off that lunch, I realized I had a chance to try something new with my friends: a limited service model, though I didn't know to call it that yet.
The logic was simple. My friends found the property by their own efforts. The seller was as eager to work with me as my seven-year-old is when I tell him it’s time to pick up dog-poo from the back yard. And given how capable my friends were, I could not honestly justify that I would add $30,000 of value to this transaction.
So what could I actually do?
I could guide them through the process. Handle the contractual details. Strategize with them on negotiations, repairs, timelines — protecting their interests and making sure nothing fell through the cracks. Their competence and diligence meant I didn't need to be on-site to be meaningfully helpful. And not being on-site meant a more efficient use of my time as well.
We worked out a fee that was reasonable for them and me. It wasn’t $30,000. But it was certainly enough to honor the guidance, protection, and care I brought to the transaction.
The best part is: it all worked. I helped them negotiate a fair price on the home as well as seller-covered essential repairs, and a month later they closed on good terms with the seller. Even now, a couple years removed, the home and property are perfect for them. They are thriving. And as their friend and agent, I couldn’t be happier for them.
[Full disclosure — because I'm not quite as saintly as this story might suggest — I was also the listing agent on their existing home and was compensated generously for that work. Which helped take the edge off the loss of huge buy-side commission potential.]
That transaction created the plausibility structure for what first became the DIY Homebuyer Academy and is now complemented by my local real estate business, The Tartan Team.
I wish I could say the path from that moment to now has been linear. Or better yet, exponential.
It hasn’t. At least not yet.
To my own embarrassment, I spent the first 15 months of building DIY Homebuyer Academy as hidden as possible from my local market — especially my clients. I felt two-faced. On Friday, I'd be creating content for the DIY channel arguing that traditional buyer agency is fundamentally misaligned with the interests of homebuyers. On Saturday, I'd be showing homes to buyer clients who were paying me a percentage of the final sale price.
I didn't want my local clients to know about DIY Homebuyer. But I needed my local business to fund the future of DIY Homebuyer. And I didn't want my DIY community to know about The Tartan Team either.
It was an awkward stretch. And I didn’t think the two businesses could coexist. My original goal was simply to keep Tartan going until DIY finally took off, then figure it out from there.
It’s only been in the last four months or so that clarity has finally emerged: The Tartan Team and DIY Homebuyer are not in competition with one another. They are complementary offerings on the wide spectrum of what consumers actually need and desire.
Additionally, I cannot adequately express what a relief it is to finally feel unified. In the business. In my relationships. And, maybe most importantly, within myself.
So what? Or better yet, why?
It’s not lost on me that there are precisely 1,000,002 people trying to disrupt the real estate industry right now.
And why shouldn’t they? Our industry is responsible for nearly 18% of America’s GDP. Every single year, our industry drives around $55 trillion of national economic activity.
If someone is seeking to get their slice of the pie, it’s hard to find a much larger pie to dig into than American real estate.
But the problem with most ‘disruptors’ is they approach this industry with an extraction mindset.
That’s a damn shame.
Because housing is not merely an asset. It’s not just another commodity. It’s not reducible to being purely an investment.
For most of us, housing is an essential piece of how we build a life. A home is where we raise our kids, weather our losses, throw our celebrations, and figure out who we really are.
But the dream of owning one — and owning it well — is becoming increasingly hard to realize.
As to why that dream is becoming harder and harder to attain, there are a thousand places to point the finger. Taxes. The Republicans. The Democrats. Inflation. Wage stagnation. Interest rates. And on, and on, and on.
But there’s only one place I can point the finger that will actually make a lick of difference: Myself.
As I thought about my friends buying their dream house, a few things settled into focus.
It is an absolute honor to be trusted as an advisor on one of the most consequential decisions people ever make — not just financially, but in their lives.
There is a better way to structure this work. A better way to compensate agents that honors the real value they bring while reducing transaction costs and making homeownership more attainable for more people.
And I want to be part of that change. I want to leave this industry better than I found it. I want to be someone who creates more value than I extract.
I’m not saying I have it all figured out.
Actually, I’m saying I don’t.
I’m still experimenting with my models. While experimenting can be exciting, it’s mostly just a pain in the ass. And exhausting. And expensive.
Just today, I was talking with my business partner and, in a moment of frustration, said, “God, this would be so much easier if we just charged full commissions like everyone else.”
It would be. And we could go that route.
But it wouldn’t be better.
And it wouldn’t be as satisfying.
Wanna connect further?
Connect with me on socials (I’m most active on LinkedIn) @NickAufenkamp
Tiered & Flat Fee Real Estate Services in SW Washington: The Tartan Team
DIY Homebuyer Resources & Advocacy: DIY Homebuyer Academy
Advisory & Consulting
I advise a select number of proptech founders, MLS leaders, and real estate organizations navigating industry change. My work focuses on stress-testing assumptions, identifying second-order effects, and helping teams think more clearly about strategy, policy, and implementation.