You Can Now Finance Your Footlong
03.21.25 The Friday Footnote: A Subway Sandwich and Late-Stage Capitalism Walk Into a Bar; crutches, cats, shifting housing policy; who's not on the guest list, and why the hustle just got meaner.
Next week’s Monday Blueprint will see an economic essay about DoorDash’s new meal payment plans. Yes, you read that correctly, you can now take out personal loans to pay for your lunch. This may be the last sign before the coming apocalypse.
Just perfect timing too because for most of February and during the first part of March, I’ve been leaning into DoorDash’s lunch services maybe a bit too much. Thirty dollars for a Subway sandwich kinda made me sick, but when you’re stuck in bed for near fifteen weeks and any sort of cooking involves navigating stairs, and complicated kitchen acrobatics with two cats underfoot while you’re balancing on crutches—DoorDash just seems like a good idea. I can’t tell you the number of times I fell.
Doc Gus thinks I’ll be walking without assistance sometime May. In the meanwhile, this has been my second full week out in the wide world. Still on crutches of course, but I’m weight-bearing. My first day of “walking” I managed to take three whole steps, and by the end of the week I was actually going down the stairs like a semi-normal person instead of doing the butt-scoot. I’ve been to the coffee shop a couple times. Did an in-person interview at Skeletone Records in Rochester for The Wicked Moxie (coming to you next week!!! in full force!). Made a trip to the Portsmouth KWCLM office. Got a haircut.
I have a follow-up in April, and Dr. Gus always asks, “What’s your pain level?” And I’m going to say a 7, because besides my reconstructed ankle my entire body aches as if I haven’t moved for near fifteen weeks, cause, well, for the most part, yeah. Except for that one time with the crazy splint I couldn’t get regular pants over and I showed a house, and Dr. Gus found out and asked what the heck I was doing and I said, “Paying your bill.”
My brain has been slow to rewire my pain receptors in general by the way. So I’m not sure about the 7. Before the surgery what was in reality a constant 10 felt like a phenomenological 5 and the background noise of everyday quotidian living. But now, with constant zero pain in my ankle, which feels like to me a miraculous phenomenological -6, maybe a 7 is just really a 2?
Despite the intense pain I carried, I held deep-seated fears about the surgery. The bone fusion failure rate is 1 in 7, so the odds of coming out worse felt like a huge gamble. I worried about how it would feel to no longer be able to stretch my ankle, and what my foot would look like underneath blankets.
The pain had been with me for so long—since my late twenties—that it stopped feeling like an intruder and became an intrinsic part of my architecture. I was already using a cane in my early thirties, and by the time surgery came around, the idea of pain wasn’t terrifying. It was familiar. I think what scared me the most was the idea of losing pain. Or rather, losing the version of myself who had learned to live with the pain. What if pain had become such a part of me that without it, I wouldn’t know who I was anymore? Right up until the moment the nurse slid the IV in my arm, I hadn’t decided whether the surgery was even a good idea. That worry about my foot’s silhouette beneath the blankets—that was about the ability to recognize myself when the pain was gone.
It’d be cool if real estate commissions went to things like—I don’t know—vacations instead of living expenses. But you know, that day is coming soon enough because, in eight months of full-time real estate work, I literally doubled my teacher pay from the Community College System of New Hampshire.
There’s something wildly broken in a system where convenience feels like survival, where climbing the stairs is a triumph, and where doubling a teacher’s salary through a completely different industry feels like both a win… and a question mark.
So whether it’s using DoorDash like a lifeline, or dragging my half-mobile body to show a house in orthopedic gear just to pay off medical bills—this isn’t just my story. It’s a snapshot of the current American hustle: pay for your lunch on credit, pay your doctor with a real estate check, and hope your body holds together long enough to stay in the game.
DoorDash loans are probably not the final horseman of the economic apocalypse, but they are at least a mirror and what we see staring back is what we’ll talk about in Monday’s Blueprint. Subscribe if you haven’t. It’s going to get weird.
💬 Have a specific idea for what you'd love to see in the Coffee with Steve Newsletter?
In the Real Estate Market
You’re Not Invited: The Quiet Privatization of Housing
It was like coming suddenly upon a mountain at night—the thing was there, it was looming up, and stretching farther and farther; it was like the very sky itself, and one’s heart stopped beating at the sight. ~ The Jungle, Upton Sinclair
The housing crisis isn’t just about money—it’s about power and access—and we are standing in the middle of four massive, constellation-sized shifts: federal rollbacks gutting oversight, generational wealth gaps widening, industry shakeups reshaping the rules, and brokerage-level exclusivity carving up what’s left—each one feeding into the next, all of it orbiting a single, unsettling truth: access to housing is being quietly privatized and taken.
And by “privatized,” I don’t just mean bought and sold—I mean controlled.
In economics, there’s a concept known as perfect competition. This is when everyone has full knowledge of prices, products, and quality across the entire market. There are no secrets, no hidden deals, no exclusive inventory, no private listings. The products being sold are identical or close enough that no one can differentiate based on quality, brand, or uniqueness. And lastly, anyone can enter or leave the market freely—no licenses, no zoning restrictions, no exclusive access.
In perfect competition, a brand-new seller has the same opportunity as a well-established seller. And buyers don’t need inside connections to shop.
Real estate is not quite a perfect competition product, because despite the seemingly increased availability of information through online portals such as Zillow, Realtor.com, Redfin, and the like, listings and opportunity are being pulled into smaller and smaller circles, and unless you’re inside, you’re invisible.
And here’s where most people are strategically misled because the general public believes that the house is the product, but the real product is the real estate agent—the gatekeeper, the negotiator, the one with the keys to what you can and cannot see. For all of our agent-talk about differentiation—our branding, our headshots, our value proposition—we are largely interchangeable. The same listing with two different agents will appear on the same sites, show the same photos, and close under the same rules.
Instead of competing on transparency, we hide and hoard knowledge, which undermines the very idea of perfect competition.
Eric Katz reported that the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and the Federal Housing Finance Agency (FHFA), the two government agencies designed to protect housing access, affordability, and fairness, began aggressively centralizing power. In a single day, Bill Pulte, newly appointed to lead the FHFA gutted the agency’s workforce by 10% and fired the boards of both Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, naming himself the chair of both. Entire teams once tasked with protecting fair housing, labor standards, lead hazard control, and civil rights were scattered, renamed, and left with no teeth—absorbed into departments stripped of real power, or simply eliminated. Employees weren’t just let go but escorted out of the building.
The administrative dismantling of HUD and FHFA marks an ideological redshifting of housing power: the public is being eclipsed, and private actors are moving to the center of the universe.
When oversight vanishes, control doesn’t disappear—it relocates. And right now, it’s moving from public institutions to private brokerages, one silent loophole at a time.
For many, the housing market no longer feels competitive but instead feels rigged. Properties disappear before they hit public listings. In fact, over the last six months, seven percent of all property purchases in New Hampshire were on the open market for exactly zero days. Buyer offers get outgunned by cash investors. According to NAR, 32% of all home sales in February were cash. And wealth accumulates not through work, but through land already owned. Peter Thiel, billionaire co-founder of PayPal, called the current real estate market a “massive hit to the lower middle class and young…” It’s a system calibrated to benefit insiders and legacy holders—while the rest of us are left spinning.
And, as most likely already indicated by the recent stripping of HUD and FHFA, if the public sector steps back from housing, someone will step in. And right now, that “someone” is a fast-consolidating, privately-driven brokerage ecosystem that’s already experimenting with exclusivity, network silos, and off-market deals.
Adopted in 2020 by the National Association of Realtors (NAR), the Clear Cooperation policy requires agents to submit a listing to the MLS within one business day of publicly marketing the property—ensuring that homes are visible and accessible to everyone, not just a select inner circle.
In effect, the rule aimed at what’s commonly known as the pocket listing—the real estate version of a private club: doors closed, guest list pre-approved, and if you don’t know someone on the inside, you don’t even know the party is happening.
But there’s still a loophole: the office exclusive listing.
One of the reasons I joined Keller Williams Coastal and Lakes & Mountains Realty is because of their sheer size and regional gravity. When I joined just on the tail end of the pandemic market surge, KWCLM boasted almost 700 agents. That number has since settled to around 550, still spanning New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, and Vermont—making us one of the largest brokerages in the region. KWCLM currently ranks number one in New Hampshire with over $218 million in volume and 5.18% of the state’s market share. In Strafford County, we hold 23.41%; in Dover, 13.64% market share.
An office exclusive listing is not a new concept. If I had an office exclusive, I could not share it with Keller Williams Metro, or any RE/MAX, Compass, or Coldwell agent. I couldn’t post it on Facebook, Zillow, or even send an email blast if that list includes people outside our brokerage. The property remains off-market—but is still technically “for sale.”
Additionally, if I were affiliated with a boutique brokerage—just a handful of agents—my access to off-market inventory would shrink dramatically. I wouldn’t have visibility into the wider office-exclusive listings circulating through larger firms. But because KWCLM operates with hundreds of agents and a dominant market presence, I’m far more likely to encounter those hidden listings that never make it to the public eye, but still quietly orbit behind our closed brokerage walls.
There are a handful of reasons a seller might choose an office exclusive over going to market—privacy, timing, personal circumstances—but in most cases, it doesn’t help. It hides your home from the full pool of buyers. And that means, more often than not, an office exclusive listing hurts you, not helps you. Zillow’s own research found that homes sold outside the MLS typically sold for nearly $5,000 less than similar homes listed publicly. Exclusivity comes at the cost of profit.
But what began as a loophole is fast becoming a strategy. That limited-access model is being scaled up. Multiple major brokerages are actively pushing to weaken Clear Cooperation so they can tighten control over inventory access, buyer flow, and brand allegiance.
Zillow terrified the industry when it pulled back the curtain, providing the average consumer unprecedented access to housing data. And according to MarketWatch, the real goal behind these potential policy shifts is to block listings from appearing on Zillow, Redfin, and Realtor.com.
By keeping homes inside proprietary brokerage apps and internal platforms, firms gain control over who sees what—and when. Consumers are funneled into ecosystems that promise convenience and access, but instead, their personal housing universe contracts. It’s like swapping out the Hubble telescope for yesterday’s Operation Stargazer—a balloon-tied telescope from the 1950s, floating aimlessly and hoping for clarity.
Now that HUD and the FHFA are gutted, when federal oversight disappears—in its place, we’ll get something far more volatile.
One day, when your kid can’t buy a home in the town they grew up in…
When the listings never even made it to public view…
When your zip code quietly decided your future without your consent…
You might find yourself looking up at that looming mountain, and wondering—
Where the hell did all the houses go?
If you're waiting for someone else to fix this, they won’t.
They’ve already been escorted out of the building.
So what can we do?
Stop waiting to be invited in.
If you’re a buyer, don’t assume you’re seeing everything. You’re not. Ask your agent what’s off-market. Ask what’s exclusive. Ask what’s not listed yet. And if they hesitate, find someone who answers fast and clearly.Push your agent past the brochure.
If you're an agent, stop pretending your job is branding. Your job is access. Your job is clarity. Be the one who shows the whole board, even when the rules say you don’t have to.Show up where housing policy is made.
Local planning board. Zoning meeting. County budget hearing. These sound boring until you realize they’re where affordability dies—or survives. Bring a friend. Ask a question. Make it weird if you have to. Presence is power.Say the quiet part loud.
Office exclusives, pocket listings, back-channel deals—name them. Don’t whisper. When this shit stays invisible, it stays permanent.
The Bare Bones Numbers 💀📉
Affordability’s better(?), but don’t get cozy—2.72 months of inventory means this market’s still running lean with homes vanishing faster than a decent downtown parking spot. The median price is $524,900. The Seacoast is moving quick—DOM’s just 10 days—and good luck navigating that $800K average list price. Tri-City’s got 40 homes on the market, and Durham–Newmarket–Lee? Just 7. This isn’t a balanced market—it’s Boston in October and you’re circling the block.
📍 Statewide New Hampshire Housing Market
Active Listings: 1,226
Closed Sales (Last 6 Months): 2,703
Pending Sales: 533
Median Sales Price: $524,900
Median Days on Market (DOM): 9 days
Inventory: 2.72
Affordability Index: 70
📍 Seacoast Area
Active Listings: 227
Closed Transactions (Last 6 Months): 516
Pending Transactions: 122
Days on Market (DOM):
Highest: 177 days
Average: 27 days
Median: 10 days
Pricing Trends:
Lowest List Price: $72,900
Lowest Sold Price: $73,000
Average List Price: $895,203
Average Sold Price: $740,821
Median List Price: $649,000
Median Sold Price: $590,000
📍 Tri-City Area (Dover, Somersworth, Rochester)
Active Listings: 40
📍 Durham, Newmarket, Madbury & Lee
Active Listings: 7
📍 Portsmouth & Newington
Active Listings: 28
PROPERTY OF THE WEEK
114 Scruton Pond Road, Barrington
🛏️3 Beds, 🛁2 Baths, 📏1,314 sq ft, $559,000
📅Open House: Sun 3/16 10:00 AM - 12:00 PM
Estimated payment: $4,242/mo
Estimation provided by Keller Williams Realty Inc.
Contact a mortgage broker today!
Welcome home! Lovely ranch tucked back & perfectly sited on 3.7 country acres. Filled with natural light, this home boasts an open concept floorplan, vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors & custom touches. From the front foyer you enter into the generous living room that's open to the efficient kitchen w/maple cabinetry, SS appliances, island & dining area w/ sliders to spacious covered porch overlooking the private backyard. The serene primary bedroom includes private 3/4 bath & walk in closet; & there are 2 additional bedrooms (one currently used as an office) & full bath. The expansive basement has laundry area, daylight, great storage & potential for future living space with stairs that lead directly into the oversized 2 car garage. This well maintained home also features central air, standby generator and brand new hot water heat pump. The covered porch is perfect for summer meals and enjoying nature. Enjoy the ease of one floor living and the privacy of country living with easy access to major routes.
Too many emails? You can manage your subscription here.