Drew Thompson explains why the days of complex and expensive real estate technology are over and how you can build what you need today.
There are exactly three smells in the air inside the Hilton Midtown during Inman Connect. It’s burnt espresso, Santal 33, and the electric hum of people pretending not to read name tags.
If you’ve never been, imagine thousands of real estate professionals holed up in a ballroom, legs shaking with ambition and blisters. It is a specific frequency of chaos designed to liquefy the human brain.
Yesterday, I stood at the center of this chaos, watching vendors pitch new CRMs to misty-eyed agents.
The screen looked like the control deck of the Starship Enterprise. There was a pipeline. It had automation capabilities. There was a button that corresponded to a scenario that had never happened in human history.
“I know I should use it,” the agent yelled to me over the noise. He looked like he had just played 12 rounds with a spreadsheet. “But to be honest, it makes me want to throw my phone into the Hudson River.”
He wasn’t wrong. We have optimized ourselves to a state of paralysis. We’ve built a tool so powerful that it requires a pilot’s license to operate. So we have no choice but to do the only logical thing: ignore them completely.
And so, with all the lights flashing and the networking frenzy, I thought to myself: What if we made it ridiculous? What if we took away the dashboards, analytics, and guilt? What if CRM was just a button?
I closed my eyes and tried to visualize it. Colored screen of Xanax pills. Large text: “Call Lisa.” Content: “Ask about her dog.”
One giant button. Press it to dial. I hang up. Swipe right. It’s Tinder, but it’s for finding potential customers. (P.S. My wife and I actually met on Tinder, so statistically we’re more likely to swipe right when it comes to making life-changing decisions.)
In 2022, this idea would have died a quiet death in my Moleskine notebook graveyard. If it were me, I would have told myself the usual lie: “I need a developer.” We need venture capital. It takes 6 months.
But that’s not 2022.
I left the conference and called an Uber to go to dinner at Reserve Cuts on 55th and Park. The app said I had 18 minutes left. Sliding into the back seat of a Toyota Camry with a faint scent of pine and aggressive merging, I decided to test the limits of reality.
Can you build this app before the driver hits the brakes at the steakhouse?
I took out my cell phone. I didn’t have the code editor open. I did not call the “technician”. I opened the AI chat and started “vibe coding”.
Now, if you think “coding” requires wearing a hoodie and a dark room, you’re living in the past. I don’t know Python. Until recently, I thought “Java” was slang for coffee.
But I know English. And now English is the most powerful programming language on the planet.
I didn’t enter the code. I worked with the AI and told it to give me the output I wanted. Here’s my prompt (I went into quite a bit of detail on this, but you get the gist).
“I want to create a CRM for people who hate CRM. The background should be a calm, solid color. There are no menus or dashboards. Just a giant button in the middle that says ‘CALL LISA.'” Connect to your phone dialer. When I hang up, I want to swipe right and move on to the next lead. Let’s make it addictive. ”
The first version appeared on the screen after 3 minutes. The swipe animation was awkward. It felt like a power point presentation.
The old me would have panicked. New I typed:
“Fix it. Make it smooth. Make it feel like a dating app.”
The AI did not request a scope change. No overage fees were charged. Just rewriting the code took 51 seconds.
We parked on the curb at Reserve Cut. I paid the driver. I stepped onto the sidewalk. I looked at my cell phone. It’s done. A fully functional swipe-based CRM. I dialed. I swiped. Logged. What is the total development time? 18 minutes.
I walked into the restaurant, sat down, ordered a drink, slipped my phone on the table, and headed out for my dinner date. “Look at this,” I said. “I literally just started a software company in my car.”
death of excuses
Here’s why this story matters to you (not because you need another CRM). That’s important because the gap between imagination and reality is officially gone.
For the past 20 years, we’ve been living in a world where the “Idea Guys” have been held hostage by the “Tech Guys.” If you can’t code, you can’t build. You were a passenger in the digital economy.
can’t believe it? Look at this.
We have made it possible for you to see this live. It contains dummy data, but please click on it. See what 18 minutes of attention span looks like.
We live in an age where you can build anything.
Need an event dashboard? I just helped a friend create one. I didn’t use a spreadsheet. We vibe-coded a dashboard similar to the Netflix interface so you can see your entire event at a glance. Need a productivity calculator? Check this out. I made this yesterday. Every second I waste, it physically counts down the amount of money I’m losing. (There’s nothing more motivating than watching your net worth evaporate in real time.)
Most of us walk around with a voice in our head saying, “I can’t build that app,” “I can’t launch that website,” or “I don’t have the technical skills.”
That excuse is outdated.
If you can describe your problem in detail and use natural language to describe what you need, AI can build a solution. (Side note: These AIs train based on what you give them, so don’t paste your client’s social security number.)
You don’t have to be a genius. No need to learn C++. You just have to be the person who connects the dots.
Drew Thompson is Real’s head of agent performance and head coach. Connect with him on Instagram and LinkedIn.
