A little about the past. From 1993, the year I arrived in Israel, until 1999 I lived in the south of the country, in the city of Kiryat Gat, about 50 km from the capital of the Negev, the city of Beer Sheva.

In principle, the city was not bad. You could even say it was good, but mostly for retirees and children. For young people, it did not inspire a happy future or confidence in tomorrow.

The future looked like a 12-hour workday for 5 shekels an hour, with constant job changes. I worked mostly with people like me, immigrants from the former Soviet Union who, like me, could not speak Hebrew. The work was simple: bring this, carry that, move something from one place to another. My last job in Kiryat Gat was at a factory that produced metal doors. After a year and a half, one day I injured my back. The diagnosis was disc displacement in four places.

That was the last straw. After treatment, I understood that I could not go on like that. At the age of 25, I did not want to remain disabled. In 1999 I decided to move to the center of the country, to Tel Aviv, hoping to find something more suitable in terms of work. I could not even dream of studying, because I had to support myself and my sick parents, who stayed in Kiryat Gat and were waiting for my help. I believe this is the duty of every son.

In February 2000, shortly after my engagement, I unexpectedly lost my father. This man will always remain a leader and role model in my life. He helped many people get back on their feet. He was very well known in Odessa and the Odessa region from the 1970s through the 1990s in the fur industry.

And my cherished dream was to reach the same heights and earn the same respect from people around me that my father had achieved.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, my father’s entire empire began to fall apart like a house of cards. That was what brought my family to Israel.

His death completely knocked me off course, and my life was already far from stable. I fell into depression. I did not want to work, eat, drink, or even live.

A week before my father’s death, I had become engaged to my future wife. Because of the mourning period, I postponed the wedding for a year. That year was the hardest and most decisive year of my life. I had to continue living for the sake of my future family. My future marriage, my mother, and my responsibility for the woman I had chosen saved me. So I could not allow myself to suffer for too long or give up. My father would not have forgiven me for that either.

Until 2003, I changed many jobs in Tel Aviv. As always, the reasons for being dismissed were not knowing the language and problems with my back. That same year, my mother died of cancer. She could not survive my father’s death. Even with medicine as professional as it is in Israel, the doctors could not save her.

Blessed memory to my parents. And my deepest thanks to them for everything they did for me. What can I say, my dear friends: love your parents and take care of them. They are the most sacred thing we have.

In December 2003, I finally found an opportunity to take a level-three Hebrew course and a basic computer course. To be honest, before that I looked at a computer as if it were an enemy of the people. It turned out not to be as frightening as I had imagined.

And now to the main point, my dear friends. In 2004, my best friend helped me get a job at a company that sold restaurant and garden furniture. Of course, not as a sales manager, as you might have thought, but as an ordinary warehouse worker, with a salary that was quite decent at that time. By the way, I must give that job its due: it was the best job I had had in all my years living in Israel.

So in 2006, I decided to take a mortgage, a bank loan known in Israel as a mashkanta, and buy an apartment. As a busy person who spent 10 hours a day at work, I naturally had neither the time nor the desire to search for an apartment on my own. I did see a couple of apartments, and after that even that desire disappeared. So I decided to turn to the “professionals” in the field.

Why I put that word in quotation marks, I will explain now. At that time, I could afford to buy an apartment in Rishon LeZion for around $130,000. This was in 2006.

I was interested only in the city center, up to the second floor, without an elevator. So I started calling local ads in the hope of finding something suitable. The offers in the newspapers looked better than one another. Unfortunately, as it turned out, they were just advertising.

When I met with realtors, or so they called themselves, they showed me apartments either in other neighborhoods or on higher floors, which naturally did not suit me. They were also much more expensive than what I was looking for. What especially irritated me was that every apartment they tried to push on me, almost by force, they urged me to buy immediately. They would say the price was only for today, and tomorrow that apartment at that price would no longer exist.

I began, quite literally, to hate brokers. The question naturally arises: why offer something I did not ask for? And why waste both your time and mine?

I remember the most interesting moment in my apartment search. I simply have to tell you about it, my dear readers.

One day I was sitting at work in my dear old machsan, which means warehouse in Russian, and searching for the apartment of my dreams. Then I came across an interesting ad.

I remember it as if it were today: “For sale: 3-room apartment with elevator and parking. After European-style renovation. In the center. Immediate entry. Price $100,000.”

You can imagine how happy I was. I called and arranged a meeting. I left work and rushed to the realtor’s office where the meeting had been set. Without even seeing the apartment, I was ready to buy it that same day.

I arrived at the office at the appointed time. I will not mention the company name, as that would not be ethical, but it was located on Herzl Street. There are many small offices there that call themselves professionals. So I came to him, and at first he did not even seem to understand why I was there. He did not even remember that he had made an appointment with me. After I explained everything, he began calling the “seller.” On the other end of the line, he was told that the apartment had been sold literally 30 minutes earlier.

It was obvious that he had not called anyone. After he hung up, the broker told me the following: “You know, the apartment has just been sold. But do not worry, I have another apartment. It is just a little more expensive and without an elevator, on the third floor, for only $130,000.”

That was the limit of my patience. I wanted to explain to that broker exactly what I thought of him, in the language of a man’s conversation. But I did not do it. I did not want to sit in jail because of such a person.

After two months of searches like that, I was completely disappointed in brokers. When someone answered my calls and said I had reached a real estate agency, I immediately hung up.

A month later, I called one more ad. When I realized I had reached yet another real estate agency, I used all the Russian slang I had brought with me from the Soviet Union, and then hung up.

Some time later, my phone rang. It was the realtor I had just been rude to a minute earlier. He asked what had made me speak to him in such a tone without even knowing him.

So I explained what had happened and what I thought of them. He asked me to meet with him.

In my conversation with him, I felt a professional approach and real knowledge of the work. An hour later, I met him.

After the first meeting, I understood that I had found the person I needed. A professional, and that says it all. His appearance spoke for itself: fit, in an expensive suit, with an elegant tie, driving an expensive car. In one word, presentable. And what do you think happened? Two days later, I bought an apartment in the city center with an elevator for $120,000. And that was not all.

The next day, I came to him for a consultation to find out how to take a mortgage, a mashkanta, correctly and profitably. Using his connections with the banks, I received the most favorable mortgage available at that time. To make it clear, the bank had calculated a 30-year payment of 2,800. He arranged 28 years at 2,400 per month. How? I think only he knows.

A month before receiving the keys, my back seized up again, this time much more seriously. I was fired from work because I was no longer fit for the job. I was bedridden at home and had difficulty moving around. The realtor took care of all the apartment paperwork himself. During the time the documents were being processed, we became very close friends. Before meeting this man, I honestly admit that I hated brokers because of their attitude toward the work.

Not everyone has the right to call himself a realtor. But after meeting broker Slava, that is this man’s name, my opinion of the profession changed completely. He is one of the founders of the company.

This is a very good and prestigious profession. There are few real specialists in it. It is not enough for a person to call himself a broker; it is important to be a true professional in the field. Before receiving the keys to my apartment, I asked Slava to take me to work with him.

He answered, as I remember it today: “Timur, you are certainly a good guy, but you do not know Hebrew. How will you communicate with a client, or how will you sell an apartment without Hebrew?”

I tried to convince Slava otherwise, that knowing the language is not as important as wanting to succeed and achieve what a person wants. If a person truly wants to achieve something, he will certainly achieve it.

The main thing is the desire to learn and succeed in what you truly want. And I had nothing left to lose: I had been fired from my old job, and physical work was no longer an option. I had bought an apartment, or rather taken a mortgage to buy one, and as you understand, that mortgage had to be paid back. And now, my dear friends, we have reached the most important point, the purpose of this article.

As I remember it now, in early February 2006 I was accepted to work at the company. For the first time, I joined a serious company. I will be brief. It was not easy. But you will not believe it.

After two weeks, I sold my first apartment. By the way, as one of the company founders said, it was a record for all of Rishon.

The sellers and buyers were Russian-speaking. You cannot imagine how happy I was, and with what pride I came home. I understood only one thing: if you want something strongly enough, everything is possible.

If you have decided to try your strength in the real estate market, contact me by phone or email. I will gladly share with you everything I have learned over these years.

Your success will depend on YOU, and I will simply help you reach your goal, because I need my own team. Our company offers career growth. So the day is not far off when you too can become a professional realtor like me.

I wish you success, my dear friends. Remember, your future depends only on you. I wish you happiness, peace, and love. May God protect you!!!

Respectfully, Timur Mataev.
General Director of an elite real estate agency
in Israel, Rishon LeZion, “Mataev Real Estate – מתייב נדל״ן”.

For information, call 054-2523339.

Or write to: mataev.nadlan@gmail.com