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Picking the real estate apples from oranges

Diary of a real estate flipper

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My first professional job out of college – let's not count the time I sold gourmet coffee beans at the Boston equivalent of Dean & Deluca – was on Wall Street. I was trying to figure out the working world (something I'm still attempting some 20 years later) so I would always classify the people I worked with. In this case, I was working with stock analysts, so they'd each become specialists on a specific industry, like computer software or clothing stores. And most of them absolutely loved to see their names in the newspaper – what reporters would call "press whores." But I worked for one guy who absolutely didn't dig it. Forbes would call: "no comment;" The New York Times would call: "no comment"; the big granddaddy of them all, the Wall Street Journal would call: "I'm sorry, I can't comment." I asked him why he was so reticent when all his co-workers were falling all over themselves to get their names in the Journal. "We have restrictions on trading the stocks ...