This is not an Australian problem. It's an industry problem.
Tesolin is one agent in one country, but the public's verdict on the profession around him is not a local phenomenon. In the Governance Institute of Australia's Ethics Index 2022, real estate agents ranked third-least-ethical occupation in the country, behind only state and federal politicians. The year before, Roy Morgan's Image of Professions Survey put real estate agents third from the bottom for honesty and ethics — beaten only by advertising people and car salesmen, with just 5 per cent of Australians rating agents "high" or "very high" for ethics and honesty. Real estate as a member association also ranked dead last for ethical behaviour, below every union surveyed.
The United States tells a milder but consistent version of the same story. Gallup has tracked public perception of professions' honesty and ethics since 1976, and real estate agents have sat in the bottom half of the rankings for most of that history — for years grouped with salespeople, union leaders and state politicians, well behind nurses, doctors, pharmacists and even bankers and journalists. The most recent results still place agents solidly below the mid-table professions, with roughly one in five Americans rating them highly ethical.
The United Kingdom's Ipsos Veracity Index has, for most of the past decade, placed estate agents among the five least-trusted professions in the country — down with politicians, government ministers, advertising executives and journalists, and as recently as 2016 ranked third least trusted overall. There is a genuine bright spot here: the most recent index recorded trust in UK estate agents at a ten-year high, so the trend is not universally bleak. But a "ten-year high" that still trails nurses, doctors, engineers and teachers by fifty points or more is a low bar clearing itself, not a profession that has solved its trust problem.
Three countries, three different regulators, three different survey methodologies — and the same shape every time. This is not a story about a handful of bad actors that public perception has unfairly generalised. It is what happens when the training layer sitting above an entire profession, across three continents, has spent decades optimising for the wrong number.
This is not a story about one rogue agent. It is a story about an entire coaching economy built to reward the behaviour that eventually gets people banned, and to stay conspicuously silent on the behaviour that would have prevented it.
Walk into any real estate coaching stage — Tom Ferry's, Tom Panos's, Ricky Carruth's, Benjamin Dennehy's, take your pick — and the language is remarkably consistent. List more. Convert faster. Overcome the objection. Get the signature. The scripts are optimised for one outcome: the transaction closing, with the agent's name on it. Client outcome is not absent from the language, but it is never the thing being drilled, rehearsed, or graded.
That is not an accident of emphasis. It is the business model. A coach who is paid by agents to help agents sell more will always, eventually, build a curriculum that serves the agent's number over the client's interest — because the agent is the customer, and the client is the product being moved through the system.
The industry that just watched one of its most celebrated agents get a decade-long ban is the same industry that celebrated him. Repeatedly. Publicly. With trophies, stages, and keynotes.
The pattern repeats because nobody is coaching for the thing that would break it
Across this series we will look at four more examples — a coaching institute, found by the Federal Court to have misled thousands of paying students, a trainer whose signature tactic is designed to manage sellers' expectations downward after the listing is already signed, a senior industry figure terminated over a workplace complaint the industry quietly absorbed, and the broader pattern of coaches who keep their platforms even after the regulator, the court, or the employer has ruled against them.
None of these are freak cases. They are what happens when an entire training layer optimises for competence-as-performance — can you get the listing, can you handle the objection, can you close — while treating character as a soft, unteachable extra. Competence can be drilled. Character has to be built. Most coaching in this industry has never tried to build it, because there has never been a metric that rewards the attempt.
The trophy cabinet problem is this: you cannot fix what you have never agreed to measure. Until the industry decides that trust, not volume, is the number that matters, it will keep crowning agents on their way up and banning them on their way down — and calling both events a surprise.
The Brand Within — Be worth knowing, not simply well known.
Part 2 of this series looks at vendor conditioning: the coaching tactic built to manage a seller's expectations down, and the trainer who has made it a signature move.