A Note on Sources
Before we begin: as a qualified journalist, I'm bound by ethical obligations and source protection laws that mean I will never reveal this agent's identity. His name stays with me, protected by the same principles that allow whistleblowers to expose corruption and insiders to reveal uncomfortable truths.
To the dozens of agents who keep emailing asking who he is: please stop. I won't tell you. I can't tell you. I wouldn't tell you even if I could.
That said, this is Australia. If you want to play detective, compare speech patterns, cross-reference complaints, triangulate grievances—go ahead. It's a free country. But I'll never confirm or deny your theories. In this game of cat and mouse, I'm Switzerland with a press card.
The Real Estate Stig remains anonymous not because he deserves protection, but because journalism demands it. His identity matters less than his testimony anyway. He could be any of you. That's rather the point.
⚡ Immutable Proof Protocol
Every screenshot, transcript, and DM quoted here has been cryptographically hashed and independently timestamped in a cold archive. Call it blockchain without the hype, call it journalism without the lies. We don't edit for comfort. We don't redact for ego. We don't play.
Now, on with the confession…
The Original Breakdown
"The Passenger Seat Confessions"
Where it all started. The first explosive confession that revealed the psychological warfare, addiction cycles, and systematic exploitation that defines modern real estate.
Editor's note: The Stig's statements are his opinions and recollections. Where we analyse systems, we do so as commentary. Allegations about firms/people are anonymised and unverified unless otherwise stated.
Melbourne, 2:04 p.m. — Collins Street Confessional
The café occupies that peculiar Melbourne niche where property consultants meet startup founders to discuss disruption over coffee that costs more than minimum wage. Our anonymous agent—now christened the Real Estate Stig—chose it for proximity to his office, not irony, though the universe provides its own commentary: every second laptop screen shows REA listings while their owners complain about market access. Same designer sunglasses as last time. Long black priced like a parking fine. Furious.
Here's what nobody admits about Australian real estate: we've built a $11.4 trillion industry on the principle that lying is wrong unless you call it marketing. The Real Estate Stig understands this. He also profits from it. The contradiction doesn't bother him because contradiction IS the business model.
"I thought 'off the record' meant invisible," he says, scrolling my story on his phone. "Didn't realise I'd see it printed word-for-word. But whatever—backlash comes with the territory. Sink or swim."
SIMON SAYS:
That's like stepping into a confessional and being shocked the priest took notes. In journalism school, they teach consent on day one. In real estate school, they teach commission splits.
I mention that watching him return reminds me of something—maybe addiction, maybe habit, maybe just the human need to be heard.
"Exactly," he says, though I haven't actually made a point.
He's back because he can't help himself. The same compulsion that makes him refresh REA dashboards at 3 a.m. brought him here. Some people rubberneck car crashes. The Stig can't stop crashing.
IThe Addiction Defence
He leans forward like he's sharing nuclear codes.
"Look, the adrenalin of making a sale after months of rejection is euphoric. Stress hormones in overdrive. You literally get a high and thirst for more kills."
He says kills without irony. Predation becomes vernacular when you've spent a decade treating houses like prey and buyers like ammunition.
Consider what we're actually celebrating here: a profession that gets high on the gap between what people can afford and what they'll pay anyway. It's like applauding someone for inventing a more expensive way to breathe. We know it's insane. We also know that knowing changes nothing.
DATA SPINE:
The average agent sees 97 rejections for every sale. That's not a career; it's operant conditioning with commission splits.
Costa—a pseudonymous 10-year franchise operator turned dissenter—weighs in:
"They're chasing dopamine hits in Italian suits. The difference between a real estate agent and any other addict is the addict usually recognises the problem. These guys think their dependency is a business model."
SIMON SAYS:
If dopamine were listed on the MLS, he'd already have three offers above reserve. The fascinating part isn't the addiction; it's the pride. He's not confessing sins—he's listing credentials.
"Every industry has its vices. Tradies drink. Bankers do… whatever bankers do. We just happen to get high on our own supply of human desperation."
The couple at the next table—first-home buyers judging by their folder of printouts—shift in their seats. The Stig either doesn't notice or no longer cares. After enough settlements, those are the same thing.
POLICY SPINE:
If a profession is built on long rejection cycles and public performance, anaesthetics will appear. Offices need independent counsellors on retainer, protected decompression windows around auctions, and sanctionable boundaries that make "always on" a compliance risk, not a KPI.
IIThe Reputation Game
Third coffee; third tone.
"Reputation is everything. The industry is small. Consumers are gullible—they'll believe any gossip."
This from the man who, in our last conversation, called his colleagues drug-addled sociopaths. Cognitive dissonance doesn't just exist here; it pays rent and utilities.
SIMON SAYS:
The grapevine has faster broadband than the NBN—also more reliable, somehow more expensive.
He shows his Google reviews—4.9 stars from 847 entries.
"Half are fake," he shrugs. "The other half are from clients I basically leaned on until they wrote something nice. But that's the game. Play or perish. The ones who claim they don't play? They're playing hardest."
I suggest this sounds like a hostage situation with better marketing.
"Exactly."
Though hostages don't usually get commission.
He nods, already scrolling reviews.
Data point: Studies show 93% of consumers read online reviews, yet 62% suspect manipulation. We've created a trust system nobody trusts, then made it mandatory.
DATA SPINE:
False reviews generate $152 billion in global consumer spending. In real estate, that number is conservative.
POLICY SPINE:
Platforms should require verified-relationship attestations for reviews (tied to contract IDs), audit for repetition/farm patterns, and display confidence intervals rather than magic numbers. You want trust? Measure it like grown-ups.
IIIThe Client Paradox
A notification pings; he silences it with the muscle memory of a man whose nervous system belongs to strangers.
The strangest part isn't that agents hate their clients. It's that clients know this and hire them anyway. It's like choosing a surgeon who openly despises human anatomy. We've normalized contempt as a service industry. The question isn't why this happens—it's why we pretend it's anything else.
"The satisfaction of a sale is sometimes rejoicing that a client is no longer in our lives."
SIMON SAYS:
Imagine serving dinner, getting slapped by the guest, and still paying for dessert. That's agency life. Dinner overpriced; slap emotional; dessert a commission that barely covers the counselling bills the industry never provides.
If mental health support were a KPI, half the offices in town would miss target.
He classifies clients with zoological precision:
- The Phantom Seller — pulls out at 99% sold
- The Delusional Pricer — Footscray home, Toorak dreams
- The Serial Viewer — treats open homes like weekend entertainment
"They never teach you this. Success isn't selling houses—it's surviving the people selling them."
POLICY SPINE:
Require client briefing charters (written expectations, realistic timelines), enforce debriefs post-campaign, and embed independent dispute mediators so "work together" doesn't mean "fight in the carpark."
IVThe Franchise Racket
He's funniest when furious.
"The franchise model is, in my view, tribute economics. You pay for the brand, the leads, the 'support.' Try leaving—they'll sue you for the database you built."
The maths is rote: 8–10% skim; 2% marketing levy; tech fees like hydra heads. By settlement, forty cents of every dollar has already been tithed. That's his characterisation, not a legal conclusion.
Every disrupted industry follows the same arc: innovation, consolidation, extraction. Real estate just skipped straight to extraction and called it innovation. The franchise model isn't broken—it's perfectly designed to transfer wealth upward while maintaining the illusion of entrepreneurship. It's capitalism's greatest magic trick: making victims feel like participants.
"It's a feudal-rake model with property listings. Every franchise owner is just a more successful serf. Medieval economics had better wealth distribution."
SIMON SAYS:
He hates it, knows it by heart, and pays it every Monday.
I suggest it sounds like paying rent on your own success.
"Exactly."
Except rent usually gets you something.
"Exactly," he says, entering his credit card details for this month's franchise fees.
DATA SPINE:
Public filings and industry analyses indicate franchises can extract up to ~40%+ of gross commission via fees and levies. Back-of-envelope estimates put the total take in the multi-billion range annually.
POLICY RECOMMENDATIONS (in my view):
- • Portable data rights (prospect database follows the agent)
- • Five-year franchising cost disclosures in plain English
- • Referral transparency (publish allocation rules)
- • Claw-back limits so switching isn't litigation by default
VThe Rookie Slaughterhouse
We pass a window displaying this week's crop of new agents, fresh certificates framed like hunting trophies. Half will be gone by Christmas.
"They hire anyone with a pulse and a license. No training. Just 'here's a phone, start calling.'"
He isn't being cruel; he's precise. New agents don't fail the industry. The industry harvests them—desk fees for six months, optimism mined by seniors, contacts migrating to the "right closer."
"Franchises need warm bodies to pay fees. Whether you sell anything is irrelevant."
SIMON SAYS:
The on-ramp isn't onboarding; it's a turnstile.
I mention this sounds like a meat grinder with motivational posters.
He shrugs. "Close enough."
DATA SPINE:
Estimates commonly cited in the sector suggest a majority of new agents exit within ~24 months, with five-figure annual inflows needed just to keep headcount flat.
POLICY RECOMMENDATIONS:
- • 12-month paid apprenticeship with assessed competencies
- • Cap rookie desk-fee extraction; publish a lead ownership code
- • Tie principal licensing to mentorship outcomes, not just volume
VIThe Office as Psychological Warfare
Names are unnecessary; archetypes are enough.
"Management plays everyone against each other because conflict drives sales."
Extended Business Units behave like street crews; inspections mysteriously overlap. Tears in cars before walking in.
"You should have to do a sponsorship or apprenticeship for 12 months… stop clean skins f***ing with the herd… moooo."
He actually moos. In a Collins Street café. The barista doesn't blink.
"When adults start making farm animal noises in public, the system isn't just broken—it's achieved full psychological capture. I've seen healthier group dynamics in cult documentaries."
SIMON SAYS:
When the Stig starts mooing, you don't edit—you publish.
I suggest he's comparing himself to livestock.
"Exactly," he says, then moos again for emphasis.
POLICY RECOMMENDATIONS:
Anti-bullying hotlines, culture audits with public rollups, and principal accreditation that includes people-leadership, not just scripts for saying "vendor's market" without flinching.
VI.5The Algorithm of Aspiration
What REA Group discovered wasn't technology—it was behavioral economics. They turned house hunting into poker machines for the middle class. Every refresh could be the one. Every notification might change your life. The house you can't afford today might be discounted tomorrow. It won't be, but the possibility is worth $200 a month to find out.
"The portal knows you better than your spouse," he says. "It knows when you're looking, what you're dreaming, what you'll settle for. That data is worth more than commissions."
This is the part where someone should mention privacy, ethics, or regulation. Nobody does. In Australia, we've decided that surveillance is fine as long as it helps property prices.
DATA SPINE:
Australians check real estate apps 2.7 million times per day. That's more than dating apps, news, and social media combined. We're not house hunting; we're digitally self-harming.
VIIThe Portal Problem
He reloads his phone like it owes him rent.
"REA didn't just dominate listings. They gamified addiction."
Views, clicks, enquiries—numbers that look like meaning. He spends to climb a tier; spends again to hold it; complains while entering his card details.
"It's like complaining about oxygen being expensive while you're drowning."
SIMON SAYS:
The portal captured the market, then imagination. That second capture has sharper teeth.
DATA SPINE:
Recent public filings put REA Group's share near ~90% with $1B+ annual revenue from agencies. In our view that's infrastructure-like dominance without infrastructure-like rules.
In our opinion, dominant portals should be regulated like utilities:
- • Fee transparency and anti-bundling rules
- • API interoperability for attribution
- • Audit rights over ranking factors
- • A right-to-explain for vendors on why their listing sits where it sits
VIIIThe Narcissist's Lament
We sit on a low wall carved with be nice it's harder than you think. The inscription mocks us both.
"Real estate doesn't attract normal people. It attracts narcissists who think they're too special for real jobs."
He means the profession; he means himself. The feed demands performance; the office rewards exhibition.
Real estate agents are what happens when you monetize the Australian Dream and give it an Instagram account. They're not selling houses; they're selling the story of houses, which is worth more than the houses themselves. The tragedy isn't that they believe their own mythology—it's that we need them to.
"I can't go to barbecues anymore. My kids' friends' parents avoid me. You become your job."
SIMON SAYS:
The mask is meant for the market. It ends up welded to the face.
I say something about identity and performance becoming indistinguishable.
Like method acting without the movie.
"Or the acting," he adds.
POLICY RECOMMENDATIONS:
- • Off-grid hours (penalties for breach)
- • Cap concurrent listings per agent
- • No-screen decompression days mid-campaign
IXHumanity, Briefly
The bravado wobbles.
"Everyone has their story. Real estate professionals are people too. Those that survive usually come from difficult backgrounds—practiced resilience, brutal engagements, cortisol thresholds."
He talks about pickups at the school gate between opens; about flexibility that is both gift and handcuff.
"Don't get me wrong. I'd still sell my grandmother if the commission was right. But I'd feel bad about it. That's growth."
"Feeling bad about theoretical grandmother sales isn't growth—it's the absolute floor of human decency. But in real estate, that passes for moral philosophy."
SIMON SAYS:
Every hero's journey has a mortgage-repayment subplot.
XThe Policy Desert
I ask what would fix things. He laughs hard enough to spill his coffee.
"Reform? In Australian real estate? Mate, we can't even agree on whether to use black or blue pens for contracts. The last major innovation was putting listings online, and half the industry fought that for a decade."
SIMON SAYS:
Asking Australian real estate to reform itself is like asking a shark to go vegetarian. Theoretically possible, evolutionarily improbable, and nobody really wants to see it.
"Truth is, everyone benefits from the chaos. Agents make money from confusion. Vendors think they're getting premium service. Buyers… well, buyers get screwed, but they're used to it. It's cultural now."
I suggest this sounds like learned helplessness at scale.
With better marketing and worse outcomes.
"Exactly," he laughs.
POLICY RECOMMENDATIONS (short list that would bite):
- • Mental health & duty-of-care standards
- • Apprenticeships + desk-fee caps
- • Database portability and referral transparency
- • Portal regulation (fees, rankings, interoperability)
- • Workload caps + protected off-hours
XIRecursive Conclusion
We're two hours in. He checks his watch, then his phone, then himself.
"I feel like you overshaded my last interview," he says, palming the BMW key. "But write away, bro. Get the truth out there."
SIMON SAYS:
The more he threatens to quit, the more inevitable his return. He isn't just the Real Estate Stig. He's the industry's id—suited up, self-aware, and powerless against his own habits.
"Next time," he says at the door, "I want copy approval."
SIMON SAYS:
In real estate, every "last time" is just another listing—and like most of his listings, this one's already under offer.
I tell him copy approval isn't how journalism works. And it won't start today. Interviews may be edited for clarity and legal; not for comfort.
"Exactly."
Neither is real estate.
"Exactly."
XIIThe System Speaks Through Its Stig
What makes him compelling isn't uniqueness—it's universality. Every contradiction, moment of clarity, and retreat into dogma maps to thousands of agents. He is the system speaking through one of its most successful failures: aware enough to see the dysfunction, trapped enough to perpetuate it, honest enough to confess it, delusional enough to think confession changes anything.
In an industry built on beautiful lies, he tells ugly truths—then lists another beautiful lie. The cycle continues. The machine hums. He returns to his BMW, almost certainly checking notifications before the engine catches.
This is Australian real estate: where self-awareness is a premium feature that doesn't affect the price.
About This Series
The Real Estate Stig returns whenever his need to confess outruns his fear of consequence. Part Three will arrive when he does—inevitably, reluctantly, carrying more truths nobody wants to hear but everyone needs to know.
For confidential industry confessions: tribune@cpp41419.com.au. Copy approval not included.
The Confessional Series
Complete Agent Breakdown Archive
The Return
"You Only Got the Surface"
The Breaking Point
"When Systems Meet Limits"
Where To Get Help
Crisis Support
- Lifeline: 13 11 14
- Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636
- Suicide Call Back: 1300 659 467
Professional Support
- MensLine: 1300 78 99 78
- Employee Assistance: Check with your employer
- GP Mental Health: Medicare rebates available