by Robert Lee
Wade Roberts pulls into his driveway at 9:47 PM and does not turn off the engine. Inside, his five-year-old has cried herself to sleep waiting for him on her birthday. He missed it for a listing he didn't get and an open house no one came to. He has worked three thousand hours this year, and earned $13.73 an hour. He has done every single thing his broker preaches in Monday meetings — cold calls, open houses, door-knocking, lead-list subscriptions — and the numbers will not move. Neither will his marriage.
Home for Dinner is a novel about what the real estate industry fears to say out loud. Profitability must be a professional standard we hold dear, and there is a much better way to work. More hustle is not the answer.
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