Anomaly. Machine. Superwoman.
Those are not the usual names one expects to be called, but they’re a few of the names I’m called every now and again.
I’m not convinced that any of these is said with malice, but when you’re an admitted overachiever who still wants to be warm and fuzzy on occasion, they can sting.
It would seem that most folks don’t start talking about their legacy until their 70s or 80s. At that point, you would hope that what’s in place is good — because moving the needle can be tricky at any age, much less when your clock is ticking louder. I probably worry about legacy a little too much. My daughter (who’s 10, by the way) loves to visit graveyards and cemeteries, so we have lots of conversations about what would belong on my tombstone.
Will I be remembered for my smile? Or for being efficient? For being overly cheerful with a glass that’s not only half full but is generally overflowing? Or for being the woman who gets it all done?
I don’t know how many years the good Lord will grant me. Who knows what paths I will take, who will cross those paths and what will ensue when they do?
I do know this. I might be an anomaly, I might be a machine, but that’s just me. I’ll probably never learn to relax — it’s not my nature. I’ll probably always be the one who raises my hand to chair the committee or make something happen (even if it stresses me the heck out).
Don’t call me superwoman, though. My superpowers are a bit too obscure for public consumption — well, except for one:
Real estate. It’s kind of cool when you start thinking legacy. Very few careers allow an individual the most intimate glimpse into someone’s else’s life, which Realtors are granted.
That’s why I don’t understand when agents don’t like being called Realtors — as if it’s an insult.
We counsel people through a huge transition; we know more about their finances and their relationships and their children and their parents than probably anyone else (except, perhaps, a preacher). We’re there for them.
When our days end, we may actually be remembered outside of our personal family circles — if we do our jobs right, if we care and invest in our clients’ lives.
Back to the idea of name-calling … I might not like being called a “superwoman,” but I’m proud to call myself a Realtor. I find it’s an amazing part of the legacy I am building.
Leigh Brown is a broker/owner at Re/Max Executive Realty. She has sold liquor, stocks, and chainsaws, but for the past 14 years, she has been dedicated to building relationships with her clients in real estate, both current and past.
The post ‘Realtor’ isn’t a four-letter word appeared first on WFG National Title Insurance Company.
