He named a figure. It was significantly lower than what a pristine house would go for in Portland's hot market, but it was fair for a hoarder home needing a total gut job.
To the outside world, Marcus was a real estate shark looking to profit off people's misfortunes. But Marcus didn't see it that way. He saw himself as a problem solver for people trapped in real estate nightmares. Today, he was driving out to see a property in the Lents neighborhood of Southeast Portland, and it was a case that would test that self-image.
He pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the cleared-out living room, and sent it to his contractor.
The fluorescent lights of the office hummed at a frequency that always gave Marcus a slight headache by 4:00 PM. On his desk sat a stack of yellow legal pads, a half-empty cup of cold black coffee, and a printed spreadsheet of distressed properties in Multnomah County.
As the door swung open, the smell hit Marcus first—a heavy mix of dust, old paper, mildew, and stale tobacco. Elena wasn’t exaggerating. Narrow pathways had been carved through stacks of old newspapers, cardboard boxes, broken electronics, and vintage bicycle parts that reached nearly to the ceiling.
He named a figure. It was significantly lower than what a pristine house would go for in Portland's hot market, but it was fair for a hoarder home needing a total gut job.
To the outside world, Marcus was a real estate shark looking to profit off people's misfortunes. But Marcus didn't see it that way. He saw himself as a problem solver for people trapped in real estate nightmares. Today, he was driving out to see a property in the Lents neighborhood of Southeast Portland, and it was a case that would test that self-image. we buy houses portland oregon
He pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the cleared-out living room, and sent it to his contractor. He named a figure
The fluorescent lights of the office hummed at a frequency that always gave Marcus a slight headache by 4:00 PM. On his desk sat a stack of yellow legal pads, a half-empty cup of cold black coffee, and a printed spreadsheet of distressed properties in Multnomah County. But Marcus didn't see it that way
As the door swung open, the smell hit Marcus first—a heavy mix of dust, old paper, mildew, and stale tobacco. Elena wasn’t exaggerating. Narrow pathways had been carved through stacks of old newspapers, cardboard boxes, broken electronics, and vintage bicycle parts that reached nearly to the ceiling.
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