There is a special kind of person in every family, every friendship circle and every workplace.
The fixer.
A person weaves vibrant multicolored threads on a wooden loom.
You know who they are. They are the ones people call when things go wrong. They are the calm voice during a crisis, the problem-solver when everyone else is stuck, and the person who somehow finds a way forward when there doesn’t seem to be one.
For many years, I wore that badge with pride.
In fact, most leaders do.
We build careers and businesses on our ability to solve problems. We become known for our reliability, our resilience and our willingness to carry more than our fair share. The better we become at fixing things, the more people bring us to fix. And that’s where the trouble begins.
What nobody tells you is that being the fixer comes with a hidden cost. The cost is not the workload. The cost is becoming everyone’s first call and your own last priority.
Somewhere along the line, many fixers start believing they have to have all the answers. They become uncomfortable asking for help because they are the ones who are supposed to provide it. They keep moving because stopping feels selfish. They keep carrying because putting the load down feels like failure.
The irony is that the people who spend their lives solving problems are often the least likely to admit when they are struggling.
I’ve learned that leadership is not about carrying everything. It is about knowing what belongs on your shoulders and what doesn’t. I learnt this lesson the hard way after almost falling apart from stress and “demand”
Not every problem is yours to solve. Not every fire requires your attendance. Not every challenge needs your intervention. Sometimes the most effective thing a leader can do is step back and allow others to step forward. If they don’t take the step forward, perhaps they are not the right person to be part of your army.
That doesn’t mean abandoning responsibility. It means creating space for growth. Teams become stronger when they are trusted to solve problems. Relationships become healthier when responsibility is shared. Businesses become more sustainable when they don’t rely on a single person holding everything together.
The truth is that fixers need fixing too. They need rest. They need support. They need permission to be human. Most importantly, they need to understand that their value is not measured by how much they carry.
The world will continue to produce problems. There will always be another challenge waiting around the corner. Another crisis. Another curveball.
The goal isn’t to carry them all. The goal is to carry the right ones.
And perhaps the strongest thing a fixer can learn is that sometimes putting the toolbox down is not weakness.
“All agents are useless. I can do it better myslelf without speding any money.” The seller wasn’t joking. The frustration in his voice was unmistakable. It wasn’t directed at me personally—we had only just met—but it was directed at the profession I represent. It was one of those moments that makes you stop and think because, while the comment was extreme, it was also revealing.
People don’t usually arrive at that level of frustration overnight. Most don’t wake up one morning and decide they dislike property practitioners. There is almost always a story behind the statement. Sometimes it’s a bad experience with a practitioner who promised the world and delivered very little. Sometimes it’s poor communication, unrealistic expectations, a failed sale, or a feeling that they were treated like a commission cheque rather than a person. Whatever the reason, that frustration has often been building for a long time.
The conversation reminded me that what many sellers describe as a problem with property practitioners is often actually a problem with trust. Trust is one of those things that takes time to build but can disappear remarkably quickly. Once it has been broken, people tend to stop judging individuals and start judging entire professions. A seller who has had one or two poor experiences can easily convince themselves that all property practitioners are the same, just as someone who has had a bad experience with a contractor, attorney or mechanic may become wary of the entire industry.
The reality, of course, is that every profession has exceptional people and disappointing ones. There are outstanding doctors and poor doctors. Brilliant attorneys and mediocre attorneys. Teachers who inspire and teachers who simply go through the motions. Property practitioners are no different. The challenge for those working in real estate is that we operate in a highly emotional environment. For most people, buying or selling a home is one of the largest financial transactions of their lives. It is rarely just about property. Homes represent memories, security, family, hopes and future plans. When something goes wrong during that journey, the disappointment runs far deeper than the transaction itself.
What struck me during that conversation was that the seller wasn’t really talking about property practitioners at all. He was talking about disappointment. He was talking about expectations that hadn’t been met. He was talking about promises that had been made and not kept. He was talking about feeling unheard. The profession had simply become the face of those experiences.
One of the less glamorous realities of real estate is that many good property practitioners spend a significant amount of time repairing damage caused by previous practitioners. They walk into meetings carrying baggage they didn’t pack. They inherit clients who have become sceptical, cautious and reluctant to believe what they are being told. Before they can market a property, negotiate an offer or provide advice, they first have to rebuild confidence.
The interesting thing about trust is that it is rarely restored through grand gestures. It is rebuilt through consistency. It comes from returning phone calls when you say you will. It comes from providing honest feedback, even when that feedback is difficult to hear. It comes from managing expectations realistically rather than telling people what they want to hear. It comes from communicating regularly and ensuring that clients never feel forgotten.
As professionals, we often focus on our technical skills. We talk about market knowledge, negotiation expertise, marketing strategies and transaction management. All of those things matter. However, the longer I work with people, the more I realise that trust is often built through much smaller moments. It is built through reliability. It is built through transparency. It is built when clients feel that somebody genuinely cares about the outcome and is willing to walk the journey alongside them.
By the end of our conversation, the seller’s position had softened considerably. Not because I had delivered a brilliant sales pitch or convinced him that property practitioners are wonderful people. The shift happened because someone took the time to listen. Before discussing the property, we discussed his experiences. Before offering solutions, we explored the frustrations that had brought him to that point.
It was a useful reminder that behind many strong opinions lies an experience that shaped them. People often want to be understood before they want to be advised. They want to know that their concerns are valid and that someone has heard them.
The seller’s comment stayed with me long after the meeting ended. Not because it was dramatic, but because it highlighted something that applies far beyond real estate. In every industry, trust is our most valuable asset. It cannot be demanded, purchased or assumed. It must be earned, often slowly and patiently, through actions rather than words.
Perhaps that is the real lesson. When someone says they would rather leave a house empty than deal with another property practitioner, they are rarely talking about property. They are talking about trust. And trust, once lost, is not rebuilt through marketing campaigns or clever sales techniques. It is rebuilt one conversation, one commitment and one kept promise at a time.
Coffee, Culture & Curveballs reminds me that every strong reaction has a story behind it. Sometimes the most important part of our job is not selling the property at all—it is rebuilding the confidence that allows the journey to begin.
Coffee, Culture and Curveballs 