Tag: realtor

Charlotte Observer reporter Théoden Janes continues his series of interviews with often-influential, always-intriguing people who live and work in the Charlotte area — conducted while they run a handful of miles together. The hope is that the release of endorphins and dopamine will trigger responses that are less canned, less inhibited, more thoughtful, and more focused.

This week’s interviewee: Leigh Thomas Brown, 51, Realtor, keynote speaker, author, social-media influencer, and founder of the Patriot Relief disaster-response nonprofit.

On her racing resume as a runner: 1:55:21 at the 2023 Huntersville Half Marathon; 26:24 at the ChristmasTown 5K in McAdenville in 2023; 4:09:21 at the 2023 Novant Health Charlotte Marathon.

Where we ran for this interview: In the Harrisburg Estates neighborhood, just north of Harrisburg Town Center.

What we covered: Her losses as a political candidate (and why she now views them, collectively, as a big win), the YouTube video that put her on the path to social-media success, and 3.1 miles at an average pace of 10:07.

The conversation is edited to improve clarity and flow.

Q. Alright, so the first thing I have to ask you, because I’m not quite getting it: Who are you, and what are you doing with your life?

I have a really hard time with that. It’s easiest to start with: I’m a wife. I have two kids that are … over 18, but they’re still on payroll. And I love my gigantic family, and I love my church, and I’m a child of God, and I do real estate. And then because I do real estate, I instruct and teach Realtors. And then because I do that, I found out they needed encouragement more than they need tips and tricks. So I became a motivational speaker, which led me to writing books. And then in the course of writing books, it led me to social-media influencing stuff. And then — because I can’t say no when people have needs, which is part of being an “encourager” — when Helene hit Western North Carolina, I started a nonprofit. Because why not? And now I’m building houses for people that are being refused help by other entities.

So, yeah. I just say “yes.”

Q. It doesn’t sound like this was a plan — a strategy. It sounds like you’ve gone where the wind has blown you.

That’s very accurate. I will say, if you’d asked me when I was in high school (at Northwest Cabarrus) what I would be doing — I wanted to be an English teacher or a chorus teacher. But in college, I changed gears very quickly. Then after I graduated, I changed gears, changed gears, changed gears, because I was trying to find where I belonged.

One thing I am good at is that if I don’t belong in something, I will pull up stakes and go. I don’t let moss grow on me. And it’s good for me to tell my kids that. My daughter, specifically, doesn’t know what she wants to do or be, and I keep telling her, “You don’t have to know yet.” I didn’t know. I paid for college by bartending and waiting tables; worked on Wall Street (as a financial advisor); sold chainsaws (as a customer business development manager for Husqvarna); had sworn I’d never go into real estate — and now I’m in Year 26.

Q. So with the Wall Street and Husqvarna jobs, in either or both cases, were you all-in going in, or were you just kind of like, Eh, let’s give this a try and maybe I’ll like it?

I was enamored of the idea of working on Wall Street because it seemed so glamorous in the movies. Then what I discovered is that people are different when you deal with their money. And I said, “I don’t want to see this side of people.” Combine that with living in Manhattan — I mean, I grew up on a farm. To live in Manhattan, where the only green you have is Central Park? I couldn’t live that way.

Husqvarna was my escape valve. They didn’t have any women in outside sales. So I said, “I’ll do it.” And I became the only woman on the sales force. I got to go to all the expos and trade shows, I made great friendships, but it was so corporate. We’ve all watched “Office Space.” I couldn’t do it.

I remember being on the phone with my mom and dad, and I said, “I don’t like this life.” They said, “Then just come home. Go into real estate. Real estate lets you find your own way.”

Q. But you said you swore that you’d never go into real estate.

Yeah. I didn’t want to end up doing what my dad did.

He worked at a real estate office on Eastway Drive, and I remember going to his office as a kid. I also remember wanting to do something bigger and grander, something different.

Q. What changed?

I realized my dad had built an amazing business in Charlotte, quietly.

But my dad’s also terribly disorganized. When I joined him, I was like, “Whoa! How do you live in this office?” There were piles everywhere. So I spent some time organizing what he had and living in his hip pocket.

I’m so grateful. I mean, to get to work with my dad every day for 11 years? What a gift.

Q. I know you had — at least, in the past — an interest in going into politics. (She ran unsuccessfully, as a Republican, for U.S. House seats in 2019 — in a special election — and 2024, and for an N.C. House seat in 2014.) Is that still something you’d like to pursue?

Well, let’s just be honest — I’ve run three times and lost three times. Glad I lost, because the state of politics today is so, so toxic. And I don’t do toxic very well, because I am an eternally cockeyed optimist. I believe in people, and I just don’t know that who we’re electing right now — on any front — believes in people, and in the inherent goodness of our communities. So, I think I was protected by losing those three times so that I could do other things.

But I will absolutely say I’m grateful for running because I’ve met so many cool people, built so many relationships, and learned a lot about myself. All three of those taught me: Things that look like a failure on the surface? Not actually failures. They’re just a different pathway opening up.

To me, the clearest example of that was losing that congressional primary in ’24. If I’d won, I couldn’t have gone to Western North Carolina, and done relief work, and started the nonprofit. So I’m really grateful that I lost, because I could be far more effective on the ground. And if I have my way, we’re going to get a piece of legislation through that’s going to help people who have lost their homes in a natural disaster, who are currently being foreclosed on. I’ve got three different congressmen working on it. And my prayer is that they will freaking talk to each other about it, and get it across the finish line.

If I hadn’t run, I wouldn’t know those people, I wouldn’t know the language; and then if I’d have won, I wouldn’t have been able to work with the people to see the problem so that it can be solved. So I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Whether I run again in the future? I don’t know if that’s where my skills are needed. I just need to be useful.

Q. I saw a poll yesterday that determined public trust in ChatGPT is higher than it is in politicians.

That’s depressing.

But the advantage of elected officials over ChatGPT? They’re not destroying groundwater like data centers are. So we’ll give them one point in their favor.

Q. Do you feel like in some ways you have garnered more public trust via your social-media following than would be the case if you were in office?I wonder if — with your social-media platform (118,000 TikTok followers) and through public-speaking and your books — whether you feel like you almost have more power —

Oh, 100% I do, because I’m —

Q. — and that more people trust you because —

— I’m not beholden to anybody. I can’t be bought and sold. I don’t have to have a script. There’s nobody telling me what I can and can’t say. If I screw up, I’m free to own it, and I’m definitely a fan of personal responsibility and accountability. Lord knows I’ve made my mistakes. And I’ll make some more.

Q. Tell me a little bit about your strategy when it comes to TikTok and making videos, and how your strategy has changed as you’ve figured it out more.

This may not surprise you at all after our conversation: I have no strategy at all. I kind of go with the flow.

I’ve been dropping videos since 2011 I think was my first one. I was mad at Bank of America. And that was my first viral video. It was actually my first video, and it wound up on C-Span and CNBC, The Economist, Consumerist.

Q. What did you basically say?

So in the banking world — if you remember, 2011, the heart of the recession. I was representing a lot of short sales. We had helped a family that had job loss. They were in the middle of foreclosure. Well, they got a buyer for the house. Got the short sale approved. But because the two departments don’t talk to each other, the house closed, we had bank approval, keys changed hands, buyer moved in. The next week, Bank of America’s foreclosure guys show up to trash out the house, and of course, they’re armed, because you have to be in that world. The buyers were home. And they said, “Um, we just bought this house.” And I couldn’t get anybody on the phone. So I said, You know what? I’m gonna make a video.

I threw it on YouTube, and within two hours, I got a call from a vice president at Bank of America saying, “Uhhhh, what’s going on here?” So I gave him the scoop, explained what they’d done wrong. We got it resolved, and I had this Oh-ho-ho-HO! moment of, Okay, this is more powerful than I thought.

My following grew at that point. Then for a while it was fairly stable — until Helene, when I shared what was going on in the North Carolina mountains. It doubled my audience.

But my channel? It’s kind of a mess. I have a devotion series, and I spotlight locally owned businesses, and I do real estate, and I talk about political things that are generally local issues. And I talk about my running, because I know that it helps (newer runners) to know that where I started is where they are, and to know that you don’t have to be perfect or fast.

Q. You just have to be yourself.

Yeah. Good, bad or indifferent. I mean, there are people who want to tear you down. They thrive on bitterness, ugliness and mean words. You can’t feed that. You don’t feed trolls, you just let them go back under the bridge.

Q. Do you read the comments?

Sometimes. I didn’t when I ran for office. That was too painful. I was being attacked by people in my party, people in the other party, people in the middle who feel like it’s their job to tear up candidates.

One of the top questions I’m asked is, “What’s it going to take to get better people in office?” And I say it’s that the public has got to resist the urge to tear down candidates. They already know their life is going to be scrutinized. They know their viewpoints are going to be in disagreement with people. So you attack, and then you wonder why you only get candidates who are attack-back kind of people.

I mean, the internet’s not always an unhealthy place, but around politics, it’s 90% toxic.

Q. But you mentioned that you sometimes do talk about politics in your videos.

Of course I do, because there are policy issues that impact us.

I look at Cabarrus County — we’ve grown so quickly, we don’t know what to do. You have people that say, “Stop all the growth! Throw out the garbage! We’re full!” Then you have people who say, “We have jobs. It’s a great place to live. No wonder people want to come here. How do we manage this?”

Then you have voters who think that the D.C. issues are Cabarrus County issues. They’re not. What they’re doing in D.C. is important to pay attention to. But I think we have our policy focus backwards. If I talk to any voter on the street today, I guarantee they have formed an opinion about Venezuela, even though they haven’t known where Venezuela was since eighth-grade geography, when you had to find it on a map. But if I were to ask those same people, “How do you feel about the proposal to add a data center in the 28213 zip code?,” they’d say, “Wait, what? Where’s 28213? What’s a data center? What does it matter?”

Charlotte voters should be looking at their candidates. They should be asking themselves, OK, what’s being talked about by the City Council and County Commission? But how many of them show up at meetings? Three, four? And it’s the same three or four every meeting. The rest don’t go, and then they get mad after the fact. From a policy perspective, people need to get educated before the fact, express an opinion before the fact. Then if you lose? OK, you can get mad.

I’ll give you a good example: There was a Dollar General that got built here in Cabarrus County, next to a residential neighborhood. And the neighbors pitched a flarin’ fit the minute the ground broke, wanting to fight it. “Shut it down!” And the response was, “Um, you all got notices about this, but didn’t respond. You all could have come to the Planning & Zoning meeting, City Council, County Commission, and you didn’t. So you have no voice now, because you squandered it earlier.”

So when I’m talking about policy on my social channels, my approach is generally: “This is your chance. You live here. You actually have a stake. Just exercise it. Right or wrong, exercise it.”

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Coming soon: Théoden runs with Remi Okamoto, a dancer from Japan who is in her third season with the Charlotte Ballet.

Do you know of an influential Charlottean who runs — whether for fun, for fitness, or to feed a serious addiction — and who might be willing to be interviewed by Théoden while they log a few miles together? Send an email with your suggestion(s) to tjanes@charlotteobserver.com.