Mixing Religion and Politics in Sacramento Real Estate

mixing religion and politicsMixing religion and politics is always a bit tricky in Sacramento real estate for some people. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry much about the political end of things because I’m unlikely to alienate my client base. It would be different if I sold primarily in Placer County, but most of my business lies squarely in Sacramento. Plus, I rarely bring up religion and politics. My brain is already too busy processing strategies and marketing ideas. At my age, there’s only so much room up there in the attic.

My mother raised a Democrat. Little known fact: my mother was once president of the League of Women Voters. We got the Congressional Record delivered daily at our house in Minneapolis. But I am more of a live-and-let-live sort of person. I’ve learned over the years to be friends with Republicans; in fact, here’s a stunner for you: I married a handful of Republicans at various times, not at the same time.

I am not a spiritual nor a religious person, which amazes some people. Many people think I’m Jewish but that’s my husband’s side of the family. However, I don’t begrudge people their religious beliefs, nor belittle, and I respect their points of view. OK, actually, I do wonder about the Mormons. The golden plates in the desert, the weird underwear, all that stuff. And that’s why I rank only #5 in a four-county area of Sacramento for year-end Realtor stats in 2017.  I don’t have a bunch of religious friends who support my business, like many agents.

Nope, I worship at the church of Satan: Google.

However, yesterday morning, a client whom I dearly love who moved to the Midwest called to talk about buying an investment property in Sacramento. After we chatted and got caught up on the past few years of events, she, in a very somber voice monotoned: Elizabeth, I have something I need to tell you. Long pause. OMG, is she dying from cancer? Oh, please, don’t let her be dying from an incurable disease. I couldn’t take it.

Then she launched into letting Jesus Christ into my heart and something about a day of reckoning a 100 years from now, I don’t really know. I stared at my phone in disbelief. Then I realized I couldn’t hear her because by moving the phone away from my ear to look at it, I lost most of the conversation. When she finished, I muttered something about how nice it is to share convictions with a close friend. I tried to be nonchalant. Doesn’t she think I am Jewish?

But then she said this disclosure was making her very uncomfortable. She did not want to bring it up, but she felt a compulsion. It was her duty. Quick thinking on my part, I let her know that, hey, I have a compulsion to share as well.

Without missing a beat, I said, it’s my duty to tell you that you should never vote for a person like Donald Trump ever again.

She wants to save me? Well, perhaps I should save her.

Silence. That amused me.

Then she asked why. You will notice she didn’t deny it. I mean, I surely noticed.

So I told her why  . . . because he’s a despicable human being who doesn’t respect diversity nor women, he’s a terrible president, undoing all the values we hold near and dear. He’s polluting the environment, doesn’t believe in climate change, actually is stupid enough to believe that science is not real, calls journalists fake news, and just passed a massive tax bill that favors the uber rich. I said I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a Nazi but if the shoe fits he should wear it.

This is what you get when you mix religion and politics in any kind of setting. So now I have an answer, actually, for all those door knockers who want me to convert. I’ll just talk their ears off about Donald Trump until they leave me alone.

My client friend? She said her piece and I said mine. I still love her.

 

 


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