The Bad Broker Who Made More For LES

The following was published on LinkedIn, via the More For LES LinkedIn Newsletter, on June 10, 2026.

On a gray day in late 1999, I exited the 4 train at Borough Hall in Brooklyn, stumbled my way up to the surface, and asked a stranger how to get to "Jorgleman" Street. “Do you mean Joralemon?”

Welcome to New York.

Chastened, cold, and disoriented, I stumbled toward Joralemon Street for an appointment with a real estate broker. His office was a dingy, dark place, not particularly welcoming, but it was my most obvious hope for finding an apartment in the big city. I knew only that my college girlfriend had recently moved to New York and was living in a place called Clinton Hill, and that I had an internship at the International Center of Photography (ICP), then located on 94th and 5th on the Upper East Side.

The Broker-Man on Joralemon

The broker, a bespectacled bearded man of about 50, was to show me an apartment that was supposedly “going fast.” This sent me into a mild panic. I can’t recall if he even asked about my criteria, but they were simple: I wanted a one-bedroom apartment that would allow me to go between my place, ICP, and my girlfriend’s without busting my budget.

The apartment — the only one I saw, which I took immediately, for fear of it (and every other vacant unit) disappearing — accomplished none of those things.

Set in Windsor Terrace on Greenwood Avenue, my apartment was a minimum of 45 minutes and two trains from any of the places I needed to get to. To ICP, I had to catch the F at Fort Hamilton Pkwy to Broadway-Lafayette, then transfer to the 6 local all the way uptown. To get to Clinton Hill, I had to rely on the G train, which was sporadic and often out of service. The apartment itself was more than I needed, more than I could afford, and offered very little beyond one realization: once I came home after work, I was never going back into Manhattan for the night.

Neither the internship nor the relationship lasted. But, the memory of my experience with that broker did.

Looking back, I realize the broker never truly had my interests in mind. He preyed upon my inexperience, my unfamiliarity with the city, and the fear that if I didn’t act immediately, the apartment would disappear. Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar, whether with a broker or in another unfamiliar marketplace, where emotion overtakes clarity and urgency clouds judgment.

Not all brokers operate this way. But my story is far from uncommon.

15 Addresses, One Education

Over the next twenty years, I lived in no less than 15 different apartments across the city. I called places like Fort Greene, Williamsburg, the East Village, Long Island City, Boerum Hill, the West Village, and the Upper East Side home, with brief stints on the Upper West Side and Astoria in between. Moving frequently exposed me to New York’s distinct neighborhoods, its intricate transit system, and its people — the sweet, the savvy, and the unsavory.

My grandmother used to joke that she would never write my home address down in pen for fear that it would soon change. (She was right.)

Concurrently, I spent those two decades navigating the corporate world as a management consultant and software executive, learning how to listen, analyze business cases, synthesize information, make sound recommendations, and walk clients through complex negotiations and deals.

By 2018, I was a parent. The stakes had completely changed, and I was negotiating “two more bites of mushed peaches” as well as two more years of recurring software contracts. I was no longer a kid looking for a cheap place to crash; instead, I was a married father looking for a place to park my family.

We’d come to love our life in Peter Cooper Village (PCV), strolling our wee ones around the manicured gardens, into The Oval, and away from the sirens vrooming north on 1st Avenue. We wanted to stay in Manhattan.

But, we couldn’t buy in PCV: the complex is rental only. So we looked for school districts that would provide us with options, along with a living experience that mirrored that of our time in Gramercy. We found the Lower East Side to be the perfect triangulation between what our budget could afford, what we considered good value, and where we thought we’d want to be.

Nearly a decade later, that decision still holds.

The only thing different is that I’m working full-time in real estate and my kids are nearly as tall as me. While I can’t help the second, I chose this pivot because I feel so passionately about offering a different perspective and shifting the paradigm for what people think of as brokers. I am committed to providing a much-needed service — one that, in today’s digital age, many believe is unnecessary or has been sufficiently democratized that Y-O-U can D-I-Y it.

Yet that belief couldn’t be more wrong.

What You Don't Know You Don't Know

It’s true, today’s tools help to display and filter listings, enabling all to sort and view going price points and vacancies. They make you feel like you don't need the help of a professional. A few open houses, conversations with agents and residents, and you may think you can go at it on your own. Do that, and you will save money by not paying someone to represent you. But, you will never know what you leave on the table.

Here’s an example:

I ran into a couple I know personally at an open house. They were looking for a new home. We chatted briefly, and then reconnected a few weeks later. I found out they were under contract.

Months later, after the closing, I noted the recorded sale price. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “they massively overpaid for that flat.” They revealed more over coffee shortly thereafter, complaining about the “oppressive” co-op application and cost overruns with the apartment’s renovation.

I wondered: How could professional guidance have helped them? Could they have been better prepared, or been better supported through the lengthy co-op application? Could they have secured the apartment at a slightly lower price point — or even a significantly lower price point — and had more funds on-hand to put toward the renovation? Also, had I introduced them to an architect, could they have had a better experience?

They don’t know what they left on the table and they're happy with the outcome. But, I can say that the delta between what they paid — monetarily and emotionally — was more than the commission they would have paid to be represented.

Of course, I understand what it’s like to have a mixed (or negative) experience with a broker. (Many, actually.) I’ve seen shocking statistics, like: 82% of homebuyers expressing remorse post-purchase. Yikes! I also know what it’s like to feel the financial squeeze: inflation is high and mortgage rates are, too. It makes sense to look for how and where to cut costs.

I’m not making a case for working with brokers: I simply want to share how a backdrop of client dissatisfaction and even mistrust helped me to shape my vision for More For LES and how I operate.

A New Voice in an Old Neighborhood

First, I sought to immerse myself in the market in which I wanted to focus: the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Sure, I've lived all over New York City, but I believe real estate professionals can be most effective if they specialize. For me, that meant focusing on a single zip code, 10002, and getting involved in groups and boards and the community. The more involved I became, the more I realized that people were asking the same questions over and over again. What is my Seward Park apartment worth? Does anyone know a reliable contractor? Is our co-op well run? What is the deal with Essex Market? Should I shop at Lidl?

So, I began to research and study the market, sharing my findings through a newsletter on Substack and tools designed to help people better prepare for, approach, and conduct real estate transactions — with specific implications for 10002. These perspectives addressed questions that had been surfaced by my neighbors, area residents, and clients, and led to stories like:

• What every NYC apartment owner needs to remember when buying a couch, a true tale of the disaster when ordering furniture that doesn’t fit in an elevator.
• You gotta fight, for your (air) rights, to party!, dealing with a Lower East Side co-op’s internal conflict with shareholders over air rights and the changing landscape of the neighborhood.
• Meet: Siyan Wong, one of numerous neighbor profile stories, highlighting amazing people living or working in 10002 and doing remarkable things.

As the More For LES audience grew, I developed tools and resources for readers, clients, and the broader community. These include:

• NYC Service Pro: A growing digital directory for neighbors looking for trusted local professionals — everything from architects and plumbers to veterinarians.
• Budgetizer: A robust tool — launching soon — that helps prospective buyers calculate the true cost of particular investments, using real properties to project actual cash flow.
• More For LES Shorts: A video series featuring vignettes and updates from the neighborhood.
• MoreForLES.com: A website that synthesizes all of this material, data, and tooling into one accessible place — to make it easy for people to know who I am, how to find me, and how to lean on me when I can help.

Now, I’m bringing my perspectives to LinkedIn.

I’d love for you to join me on this journey, regardless of whether you are currently considering buying, selling, renting, or investing in the Lower East Side. The stories and situations I write about are deeply personal and always intended to inform. (Sometimes they also entertain.)

There are countless tools and brokers out there, and you can choose to use any of them — or none at all. While the abstract concept of "real estate" may not always sit close to your heart, navigating a real estate transaction always is — particularly on the residential side. It is deeply meaningful, and it requires objective data, careful thought, and real human support.

I hope you will choose to follow along. Whether or not you choose to work with me, rest assured that your interests will always be my absolute priority — even if you don’t know the difference between Jorgleman and Joralemon, and especially if you don't know where to find the best knish on the Lower East Side. (That would be Elbow Bread on Ludlow Street.)