TL;DR: Open houses work. They have always worked. But like most things in real estate, they only work when the agent does.

Every few months, someone in real estate confidently announces that open houses don't work. Usually it's another agent saying it, often while standing in an office kitchen eating stale bagels and explaining why they don't bother holding them anymore.

I've always found this fascinating because open houses have been selling homes for longer than most of us have been alive.

The Dirt-Lot Years

Before I sold resale homes, I sold new construction. I spent years sitting in model homes on Saturdays and Sundays waiting for customers to wander in. Sometimes I worked from beautifully decorated models with soaring ceilings and professionally staged furniture. Sometimes I worked from a temporary sales trailer parked beside a muddy road. More than once, I worked from an RV sitting next to a tract of undeveloped land and a giant sign featuring an artist's rendering of a future community that looked suspiciously like a luxury resort in Tuscany.

The actual property at the time consisted primarily of dirt.

There might have been a bulldozer. Maybe a few survey stakes. Occasionally a gravel road that abruptly ended in a field.

Yet people showed up every weekend.

Why?

Because the sales process is older than real estate itself. People see a product, explore a product, imagine themselves owning the product, and eventually buy the product. The details change, but the process doesn't. Whether it's a new neighborhood, a boat, a car, or a three-bedroom ranch house in Hoover, the principle remains the same.

People buy possibility.

The Self-Guided Museum Tour

That's why I've always laughed when agents declare that open houses don't sell homes. Open houses absolutely sell homes. I've watched it happen for a couple of decades now.

What doesn't sell homes is unlocking the front door, placing a plate of grocery-store cookies on the counter, and then spending two hours scrolling Instagram while visitors wander through the property unsupervised.

I've seen agents conduct open houses with all the enthusiasm of someone waiting at the DMV.

I once walked into an open house where the agent never looked up from her phone. She simply waved vaguely toward the living room and muttered, "Feel free to look around."

That wasn't an open house. That was a self-guided museum tour.

The truth is that an open house starts long before anyone walks through the front door. It begins with marketing. It begins with invitations. It begins with social media posts, emails, calls to neighbors, conversations with your sphere, and every other thing agents sometimes skip because they're convinced nobody is coming anyway.

The Go Bag

And then there's the "Open House Go Bag."

Every experienced Realtor has one.

Mine contains enough supplies to survive a minor natural disaster.

Inside you'll find scissors, tape, pens, sign riders, chargers, batteries, hand sanitizer, paper towels, a Bluetooth speaker, Windex, soap, and toilet paper.

Especially toilet paper.

If you've never discovered ten minutes before an open house that a bathroom is completely out of toilet paper, congratulations on living a more orderly life than I have.

Over the years, I've arrived to find fingerprints covering every stainless steel appliance in a kitchen. I've cleaned mirrors. I've replaced light bulbs. I've straightened artwork. I've hidden litter boxes. I've wiped muddy paw prints off floors. I've once performed emergency shrub maintenance using pruning shears I happened to have in my trunk.

If I've learned anything in life, it's this: something will go wrong.

The only mystery is what.

Success Happens Before the Doorbell Rings

The funny thing is that newer agents often think success happens during the open house itself. In reality, success usually happens beforehand. It happens in the preparation. It happens in the details. It happens because you showed up ready for whatever the day throws at you.

My last three open houses all generated buyers for those specific properties. Not visitors. Not tire-kickers. Buyers.

That didn't happen because I got lucky.

It happened because I marketed the event, invited people, followed up, put out signs, prepared the house, showed up ready, and then actually engaged with the people who walked through the door.

Luck gets far too much credit in this business.

After all this time, I still show up hopeful. I still pack the signs. I still bring the speaker. I still check the soap dispensers. I still carry toilet paper in my trunk like some sort of suburban emergency responder.

Because every open house represents possibility.

Someone might walk through that front door and fall in love with the house.

And if they do, I'd rather be ready than lucky.