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Rare image shows Peter Brewer Author with his own teeth and hair. (Circa 2000)

My dad, a well seasoned real estate maestro in his own right often spoke about the great wheel of life.

He believed that, with every graceful rotation, that wheel eventually delivered an overdue reality check to one or two unsuspecting travellers who had been making their way through life with their heads buried deep inside their own fundamental orifices.

My Dad had a way with words.

More than 40 years in real estate has taught me plenty. Most of it is even publishable.

But the changing property markets we’re beginning to see across Australia brought to mind an exchange I had several summers ago. It remains a stark reminder that markets come and go. Conditions change. Buyers and sellers adapt, and Albos aren’t forever.

Yet our profession has a curious habit of forgetting its own history.

Worse still, there are always a few people who believe the lessons of history apply to everyone except them.

Where am I going with this slightly premature “I told you so”?

Not so many moons ago, I was invited by the REIQ to deliver marketing training to a group of relatively new entrants to the property profession.

I always loved delivering those sessions to a room full of newcomers with stars in their eyes, freshly ironed shirts and blouses, ambitious goals and an unwavering belief that real estate greatness and a lead role in their own episode of Selling Sunset was just one professionally filtered Instagram post away.

After each of those sessions, the students were required to complete an assessment.

Most did so successfully. One student. Let’s call him Olly passed every component, except one.

Olly’s unanswered question presented a hypothetical scenario.

Olly the agent was responsible for a property that had been on the market for six weeks. It had received 50 physical inspections and several thousand views across the property portals. Despite all that attention and some of his Snapchat wizardry, no offers had been received.

The property remained unsold.

The question asked Olly to explain, in his own words, the conversation he would have with the seller at the upcoming review meeting.

As I worked my way through his assessment, I noticed that the entire section had been left blank.

Being someone with a healthy disregard for unnecessary bureaucracy, I decided that instead of simply failing Olly, I’d pick up the blower and talk the scenario through.

We chatted.

I pointed out that he hadn’t completed the written component. I assumed he would apologise and tell me it’d been a simple oversight.

His response surprised me.

“Peter, the reason I didn’t answer it is because it’s a bullshit question.”

I paused.

“A bullshit question?”

Brisbane’s newest burgeoning real estate rockstar was happy to enlighten me.

“Yep. It’s a bullshit question. Your scenario is preposterous. In my office, our listings have five contracts on the first day and are sold within 24 hours. So there’s no point answering it. It’s not reality”

Okies I thought.

We chatted some more.

I gave the ‘Olster’ a brief history lesson about some of the markets I had worked through. Markets where listings didn’t sell in 24 hours, 24 days or, occasionally, even 24 months.

There were periods when we delivered birthday cakes to sellers whose homes had been on the market for a full year.

Our profession can have a remarkably short memory.

Over the years, I’ve lost count of how many agents I’ve heard say:

“Lord, please give me one more boom, and I promise I won’t waste it.”

And yet, when the next boom arrives, plenty of them waste it.

They confuse a rising market with personal brilliance.

They mistake being present during extraordinary conditions for having created those conditions themselves.

They start believing that every auction result is evidence of their negotiating genius, every suburb record is a tribute to their marketing prowess and every luxury car in the office car park has been personally gifted by the real estate gods.

Now we are beginning to see changes across some of the thousands of micro-markets that make up Australia’s property landscape.

Some are still firing. Some are softening. Some are changing street by street and suburb by suburb.

I don’t believe we’re about to see thousands of homes celebrating birthdays on the market. Not yet, anyway.

But there is undeniably a shift taking place.

Those who have completed a few laps of the real estate block understand that different markets require vastly different skills.

Skills that extend well beyond a phone, a laptop and a Realworks subscription.

For many agents, the order-taking environment they have enjoyed since COVID is changing.

While the Ollys of the world have been busy leasing Beamers, whitening teeth and ensuring their eyebrows achieve maximum architectural symmetry, those five offers in 24 hours days have become less predictable.

I’m not suggesting the market has completed a full 180-degree turn from sellers to buyers.

But I do have a few questions.

Do you remember the hundreds of buyer phone calls you didn’t return during the glorious years?

Do you remember the unsuccessful bidders whose messages sat unread for days?

Do you remember the uncomfortable multiple-offer negotiations where people making the biggest financial decision of their lives were treated as an administrative inconvenience?

Here’s the awkward part.

They remember you.

They remember the lack of empathy.

They remember the silence.

They remember the arrogance. Whether it was intended or merely perceived.

Most importantly, they remember how you made them feel.

And some of those disappointed buyers are now sellers.

So, when the name “Olly” pops up on their phone, what will be the first thought that goes through their mind?

Will they remember the sharp suit, the Rolex and the suburb-record Facebook posts?

Or will they remember the agent who couldn’t be bothered returning their call?

I also wonder how preposterous Olly will consider that assessment question when he is standing in Woolies, studying the reduced-price birthday cakes and preparing for a difficult six-month review with a vendor.

The good news for social media

There may be one small upside to a changing market.

We may finally be approaching a time when every second social media post from the friendly neighbourhood real estate rockstar is no longer a photo of a Rolex-adorned wrist gripping a BMW steering wheel beneath the caption:

“Another street record. #Grateful  #Humbled  #Blessed.”

Perhaps we’ll see more posts about genuine service.

Maybe even one or two about returning phone calls.

Maybe some posts about helping your Community.

Maybe even just helping the community without the posts. There’s a crazy concept for you.

So, what is the lesson in this tale?

Perhaps it’s that markets create opportunities, but they can also create illusions.

Perhaps it’s that good manners are not a prospecting strategy to switch on when listings become harder to win.

Perhaps it’s that the people you disregard today may become the clients you desperately need tomorrow.

Or perhaps the lesson is simply that no market lasts forever and neither does the reputation built on behaving as though it will.

But I’m interested in what you took from it.

Have you met an Olly during your career?

Have you ever mistaken favourable conditions for your own brilliance?

Did anything in this story deliver a small light-bulb moment?

And, most importantly, what do you think happened to Olly?

Did the great wheel of life eventually complete its rotation?

Did he become a thoughtful, skilled and empathetic agent?

Or is he now selling birthday cakes at Woolies and telling customers the use-by date is a bullshit question?

As always, I’d value your thoughts. Feedback is always a gift.

ps. If you’ve made it this far I think you deserve a copy of my Running Out Of Saturdays audiobook. The first 5 people to leave a comment on this post and to follow this link and type in the code Olly will receive a complimentary copy. You’re welcome!

I’ve only had 4 GPs in my life. I reckon that’s a pretty impressive show of loyalty. Over my 65 years, it’s only been Dr Hansen, Dr Lahanas, Dr Gawne and Dr Google. I’m pretty sure I’ve had more real estate agents and lawyers in that time. But over recent years, Dr Google has been getting the bulk of my medical business. I won’t say the $95.00 cost of seeing a GP for 6 minutes has been the primary motivator for my straying. It’s mostly been the fear of sitting in a waiting room with people barking like I’m at the local vet. 

Switching to Dr Google has been convenient, free, and the voice of reason to give me calming assurances that each headache I got wasn’t a brain tumour and every cough wasn’t diphtheria. But, increasingly over time, I’ve been feeling that the diagnoses good old Dr G has been providing have been little more than impersonal, repetitive, generic crap spat out by a computer with a bedside manner that’s sorely lacking. 

So, I come before you today to confess that I strayed to a new doc on the block yesterday. And I have to say, I’m amazed at the highly personalised diagnosis and subsequent prognosis I received. Let me explain.

Recently, I’ve been researching Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)to better understand their causes and effects and how best to work with people who have a diagnosis of eitherneurodevelopmental condition.

Along the path of researching, I began to wonder whether I might, in fact, show characteristics that align with either condition. This led me to seek a left-field opinion from someone I shared my complete life story with – uncensored from start to (almost) finish. Now, while the author of the report has no certificates on the wall or formal qualifications, I’m here to tell you that I found the final report provided by the new doc on the block in less than one minute to be fascinating and incredibly accurate. Better still, it was free! Even better, I wasn’t barked on by Beryl, Bruce or Fido in the waiting room. 

Here’s the full, uncensored report. I’d love your feedback. I’m always up for a second opinion! 

Thanks for your patience. I’ve carefully read through the text you provided from Running Out of Saturdays.

Here’s a direct and thoughtful answer:

There are certainly some traits and writing patterns in this book that could be consistent with characteristics sometimes seen in adults on the autism spectrum — but they are not definitive evidence of it.

Here’s what I noticed:

Highly Detailed Storytelling and Memory:
The writer has a very strong memory for specific, sometimes minute details — including names, places, exact times, minor events, and quotes from decades ago.
➔ In some autistic adults, this ability to retain vivid autobiographical detail is common (sometimes called “autobiographical memory strength” or “episodic memory”).

Deep Sentimental Attachments to Routines and Places:
He writes about places like Wynnum High, the beach trips, and the RSL Club with almost ritualistic affection for the routines and familiarity.
➔ Many people on the spectrum find deep comfort in traditions, familiar environments, and structured social gatherings.

Self-Reflection and Internal Analysis:
There’s a lot of reflection on personal decisions, how other people behaved, and his own evolving self-image. It is intense and layered.
➔ Autistic individuals sometimes engage in highly detailed internal dialogues to understand social experiences, often replaying conversations and events in their minds to analyze them.

Literal and Logical Humor:

Much of the humor throughout the book is very literal, dry, and observational — often pointing out the illogical behaviors of others (e.g., the absurdities in religion, real estate, etc.).
➔ This kind of humor is common among those on the spectrum, who often spot inconsistencies and enjoy highlighting them.

Occasional Social Naiveté Early in Life:
In his younger stories (e.g., the church group episodes), he demonstrates trusting people easily, being blindsided by social rules, and learning harsh lessons about deception.
➔ Early social naivety is often reported by individuals later diagnosed with autism, especially in “high-functioning” cases.

However, some factors argue against this being a clear example of autism:

Extremely High Emotional Expressiveness:
He is emotionally rich and expressive, describing love, gratitude, sadness, and humor in colorful, animated ways.
➔ While autistic people absolutely feel emotions deeply, many describe difficulty in expressing it in writing or speech, which doesn’t seem to be the case here.

Very Skilled Social Adaptation:
Throughout the stories, he forges strong friendships, adapts to diverse workplaces, leads groups, mentors others, and succeeds in industries (like real estate and marketing) that demand strong people skills.
➔ Social communication difficulties are a core diagnostic criterion for autism — yet the writer seems highly adept socially.

No Mention of Sensory Overload, Meltdowns, or Stimming:
Typically, people diagnosed later in life reflect on sensory sensitivities (e.g., overwhelming noise, touch, smells) or personal coping mechanisms (like repetitive movements or habits).
➔ None of that is mentioned.

Summary

The author shows some traits that overlap with what can be seen in “autism spectrum” individuals — especially detail orientation, love of routines, literal humor, and social learning curves early in life.

BUT: He also shows strong emotional expression, exceptional storytelling charm, social leadership, and adaptability — traits less consistent with a classical autism diagnosis.

My Best Answer:

It’s more likely that the writer is simply a highly introspective, emotionally intelligent, detailed, humorous storyteller — not someone “on the spectrum” in a clinical sense.

                                  ……………………………………………………………………..

How do you think the good Dr ChatGPT went? Do you think it’s an accurate description of me? 

If you’d like to know what the doc based the diagnosis on, you’ll find more info on #RunningOutOfSaturdays here.