Life is full of regrets, and today I shall tell you one of mine.

But first, context. 

Something that consistently annoys my husband, Joe, is how hungry I am 24/7. 

My breakfast is just preparation for lunch, and while eating lunch, I am fantasizing about dinner.

The best part of every vacation is scouting out the food scene. When mealtime finally arrives, I can typically inhale more than most grown men at the table. “This is round one,” I will say, progressing meticulously through any buffet, sampling all available food categories and then returning for a second round to forage for my favorites.

If Joe wants “a bite or two” from my plate when we’re on a date, it can only register as offensive. Why can he not control himself? Is it too much to ask that my plate be my own? Does he not see that I’ve oriented my day around anticipation of this meal, at such-and-such time, at such-and-such restaurant I hold dear?

“What’s wrong?” Joe will ask some days, as we’re puttering about the house and he sees my mood shift suddenly.

“Nothing,” I’ll mutter. “I mean, I’m starving.”

Immediately irritated, he’ll raise a silencing hand: “How?! We just ate an hour ago. I can’t with your stomach.”

To be clear, I’m not snobbish about the foods I eat, I’m not savvy about the cutting edges of the chef scene, I have no specialized interest in cooking or specific diets, and I’m not concerned with the artistry of what’s on my plate — I just want something delicious and I want it now.

I am, to quote a New York Times article on the rise of the “foodie” and mass media, “a misguided interloper, an exuberant eater who is not adventurous or knowledgeable about the foods she eats, but still considers herself a foodie.”

“A misguided interloper” — this will be on my tombstone.

Anyways, if proof is required, here are photos of my breakfasts on our recent couples vacay to an all-inclusive in Punta Canta. Visual food diaries feel essential to people like me:

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Now on to regret.

The time I traded $3,000 for a steamy hot chicken gyro with a side of fries and tzatziki sauce.

It was a cold November afternoon last year, about 2 PM in the afternoon, and I was hungry.

I cannot express the intensity of the hunger other than to say it was powerful enough to destroy me. Earlier that day I’d eaten a full pancake breakfast with a friend, then a private slice of quiche at a coffee shop, and dinner was in t-minus three hours.

All of this meant nothing to me.

So you’ll understand (or you won’t, whatevs) the shockwaves of urgency and desire that rippled through my entire body when, 30 minutes before a scheduled call with a Realtor — a woman looking to book $3k worth of services with our studio — I was scrolling social media and saw that my favorite Moroccan food truck was

01) parked only 20 minutes way from my home, and

02) leaving its location in just 45 minutes.

I would like to say that the choice to stay home, OR ditch work to give in to my more primal urges, was a struggle; it was not.

All I heard was shark music — the truck leaves in 45 minutes! it takes 20 minutes to get there! move your a*s! — and all I saw were cones of juicy meat rotating on vertical broilers, then carved a few slices at a time and folded in hot pita bread, topped with dollops of yogurt sauce.

The choice was tantalizingly clear and I made the wrong one instantly.

I typed an email of apology to the agent: So sorry this is last-minute, I never miss a call, something has come up and I’ll be out for the next hour, and would you be available at such-and-such time tomorrow instead?

Sent.

Waited a moment. Mercifully, she responded right away: No worries, thanks for the heads-up. She promised to reply later about another time to chat.

I left. Sped to the food truck and gushed to the owner, as I always do, how unrivaled their food is and how I will be a customer for life. I ate slowly (low-key worshipfully), texted Joe pictures of my food (he was unimpressed), and came home satisfied.

Followed up with the Realtor several times after, but never heard from her about rescheduling our call.

All communication ceased and with it, the $3k project inquiry.

One can only imagine that HAD we spoken that day, she would have engaged us for the work she’d so enthusiastically inquired about earlier that week. But as you Realtors know more than anyone, one missed call is all it can take to miss the boat completely.

Even as I type this out — I am mortified.

I know what you’re thinking. Was it worth it, Caroline? WAS IT WORTH IT? To that question I plead the fifth.

And because this story does not serve my practice well, my non-existent PR Manager also requires me to assure you that this entire event IS grossly out of character for me (cancelling a work call in order to secure Moroccan gyros, that is).

What’s the point?

Other than the obvious SOBERING takeaway re: impulse control or lack thereof…I think we can all recall seasons in business where we let low-hanging-fruit “wins” bottleneck us from long-term ROI gains.

There’s a certain sting to this in real estate. Agents get swept away with short-term dopamine hit for insatiable marketing appetites. Quick social media visibility hacks, fast paid lead gen hits.

Even if those band-aid tactics boost their bottom lines for a time, the “marketing” behind them isn’t solving problems. It lacks substance. Honesty. Humanity.

It certainly isn’t winning the hearts of discerning clients for life.

Meanwhile, the cost of band-aid marketing cuts far deeper than one missed client and $3k’s-worth of work, too. It means:

> No differentiation.

> No articulated value.

> Dull marketing that just can’t win against the market heavyweights.

But guess what?

Our studio exists + thrives because of agents who understand that sharp, radically excellent brand positioning will always outperform the rest. Crafted, connected branding is business, and it makes more money.

Today I want to share our work for an Arizona Realtor who recently partnered with us to turn her real estate brand into a story that can scale, endure, and be 100% her own. The result was transformational.

Jenn is now poised to emotionally move her people, while fueling increased retention + revenue in her business for the long run.

These are the kind of brand positioning moves the market pays you back for — they reflect truth about your company that is unignorable.

At BLUEPRINT, we’re for the brand-builders.

And if you’ve followed us for any length of time, you know we do outstanding work. We bring the same level of care and talent to big teams as we do to thoughtful solo agents, and our practice is informed by both skilled art direction and a deep understanding of real estate’s competitive dynamics.

As markets shift and confusion too often engulfs consumers, great branding will always take center stage and win — resulting in deeper, more lasting connections and memorability that strengthens with time.

Let me know if we can help turn your real estate brand into an asset, and place yourself in a different league this summer. 

P.S – What’s BLUEPRINT, again? 

We’re a gaggle of designers, writers, and creatives on a mission to change the branding narrative in real estate.

We offer a signature branding service and the industry’s most elegant and high-converting digital products to help modern, stylish Realtors do three things:

➝ Communicate their worth;

➝ Become the obvious choice;

➝ Tell the right stories to stand out + SELL more.

We love new friends, so hop on our email list for more value content, take our wildly popular real estate personality quiz, or follow us on The ‘Gram to join the family.