Because you are a person, some things are very difficult not to take personally.

Events feel like unique misfortunes picked out especially for us. 

How could that company have fired me? Why did my favorite client leave? Where does that horse get off walking away from me like that? 

But despite the cinematic sense of karmic justice that we were taught to believe in when we were young, one of the true hallmarks of maturity is depersonalization. Not denial or disillusionment, but depersonalization. 

Meaning, we let go of our compulsive need to dive endlessly into what everything means. We accept that the world does not automatically owe us any reward. 

Ferguson’s documentary about the hidden forces that control our lives recaps this shift most eloquently:

Nobody is in control. We are guided and constrained and controlled by the systems we have made but don’t understand. But these systems are not greedy, they have no ambition, they have no ideology, they are not good and they are not evil. They are simply not like us. 

It’s a perfect example of taking things in perspective, not taking them personally. And it’s precisely what we need to endure our many failures and rejections and losses. 

Because even though the promised land was supposed to be nice, and even though we so enjoyed basking contentedly in the peace of innocence, floating on a tsunami of acceptance for whatever life throws at us is a much more enjoyable and much less labor intensive strategy.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

Are you still trying to put foam toddler guards on all the sharp edges of the world?

My doctor friend once gave me a warning that sent a corkscrew of chill through the hollows of my spine:

The worst opiate out there is the one you like. 

Meaning, whatever substance allows us to escape from our anxieties, whatever chemical creates a barrier that shields us from the sharp edges of reality, legal or illegal, can be a very dangerous thing. At the very least, it can become a very unhealthy habit. 

It reminds me of my most loathed television trope. The main character has one of those hell days where everything goes from bad to worse. The entire universe seems to have it in for him, and everyone he works with is an idiot. At which point he grumbles to himself or his quirky neighbor, I need a freaking drink. 

Cue the sitcom laughter applause effect. 

What a perfect tagline to depict just how nervous and upset this character is. Poor chap can’t handle his anxiety any other way. Smash cut to him slamming a drink, and is back on his feet with his head securely attached and ready to get back to business. 

The problem with this chestnut is, it teaches us that the experience of difficult feelings should tranquilized. When life gets a little too overwhelming, we reach for something to create a temporary chemical heaven. Something to help us escape from experiencing our true emotions. 

For me, it was always work and food. Why stand in the fire of difficult feelings of loneliness when you can write books for fourteen hours straight and then consume enough sushi to feed a block party? 

Pity the fool who denies me access to my precious chemical elixirs. 

Onion did a parody news article that summarizes this moment perfectly: 

Nothing helps me unwind like moving one step closer to a chemical dependency that gets progressively worse until reaching a destructive climax sometime around middle age. 

The challenge, then, is locating the willpower to forsake the solace of tranquilization. 

One tool that has been useful for me is asking myself a simple but powerful question. 

What feelings are you trying to escape right now? 

This checkin invites me to take an inventory of the moment. First, with my body at a sensational level, and then with my heart and mind at an emotional level. Many times, once those feelings are noticed, named and felt, within a few minutes, my compulsive desire to overwork or overeat fades away. 

And if it doesn’t, that’s okay too. Because the exercise still helps me gain a new perspective on difficult feelings. 

Which is a step in the right direction. Certainly beats keeping my real self a secret behind a veil of tasty chemicals. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

What feelings are you trying to escape right now?

Ruth was legendary for not fearing a swing and a miss. 

That’s why he broke the record for home runs and strikeouts in the same season. Babe made baseball history by succeeding and failing simultaneously. 

Interestingly enough, this trend continues a century later. Statistics show that today’s batters who fail the most spectacularly also tend to be among the greatest successes. 

It makes sense. They view their strikeouts as melodramatic, but momentary setbacks. This phenomenon proves that resilience requires reframing rejection. 

Because in the moment, being shut down can be awful. Whether it’s a job, date, promotion, or a college, all forms of rejection can trigger our feelings of shame, frustration, confusion and incompetence. Those bastards, how could they have said no to me? 

And so, these feelings are to be expected and expressed. 

But something else that we can remind ourselves of is, rejection does mean we’re trying. We’re showing up. Making an effort. Playing the game. 

Schwab, the legendary financial pioneer, has a name for this at his company. He calls it a noble failure. It’s when we have a good plan, we know what we’re doing, we think everything through carefully, we implement with sufficient management discipline, and when we look back in review, we conclude that it was thoughtfully done. 

Then we debrief ourselves and ask what we can learn from the experience that will lead us to be smarter next time. 

That’s a noble failure. And it’s awfully hard to beat ourselves up for doing something that. 

By reframing rejection in that way, we become more resilient, and move one step closer to success. 

Are your failures interesting enough that the world will give you more chances?

In this time of social distancing, people are staying six feet apart from each other. 

They’re wearing masks, goggles, hats, hoodies, gloves and other protective outerwear. Doing whatever they can to keep ourselves and each other safe from exposure to the virus. 

But one of the interpersonal challenges of our culture’s new social contract is, it has become harder and harder to recognize each other in passing. 

Now more than ever, our public identities are kept secret. Everyone is essentially in disguise. It’s like we’re all in the witness protection program. 

And sadly, the delightful random variation of casual interactions with friends, acquaintances, neighbors, coworkers, delivery guys and colleagues has hit a record low. We’re all craving face to face conversation, and it’s never been harder and riskier to engage in. 

The other day my wife and I took a walk in our neighborhood around sunset. We passed by a woman on the street who was just as bundled up as we were. She stopped, turned around and yelled to get our attention. 

“Scott! That has to be you. Who else would be wearing a nametag during quarantine?”

We paused, squinted towards this person, and then the delayed shock of recognition settled in. The social picture came into focus. 

“Maye! How are you? It’s so nice to see you out here. How’s your family doing?” 

The three of us chatted for a few minutes, holding our six foot distance, exchanging typical quarantine pleasantries about sanitization, sheltering in place and running out of toilet paper. It was lovely. 

When we parted, our friend waved and bid us farewell. 

“Scott, it’s a good thing you were wearing your nametag, or I never would have known it was you.”

That comment is especially funny to me, considering my history. Because for the past twenty years of wearing a nametag every day, people have probably said that exact sentence to me tens of thousands of times. 

But always with a sense of irony. Because in a normal social context, of course my friends know it’s me. The nametag isn’t for them, it’s for strangers. 

And yet, during quarantine, my nametag is for everybody. Even people who know me. In a time of social distancing, the sticker became disproportionately useful. Nametags are a form of semantic and semiotic information added to the environment to make it even more relevant and useful for my fellow humans. 

Hinton writes about this principle in his phenomenal book about context:

There is a direct indexical relationship between the written name and the person, because the name is on you. It’s one of the most straightforward ways people use language in everyday life. Nametags add more context to the meaning of the object. The words on person construct of a nametag means that other people don’t have to calculate all of this explicitly. It’s a learned feature of their environment. The nametag object is an invariant cultural convention, learned in a system of other signifiers, just like language itself.

Wow, all that from a sticker? You better believe it.

But does this mean that quarantined citizens should wear nametags in addition to masks, gloves, glasses and hats? 

Good luck passing that law. Social distancing is already enough of a hassle. No need to add another layer of complication. 

But personally, during this time social isolation, wearing nametags has never felt more important to me. 

It may not be changing the world, but it’s certainly making my world feel more connected. 

And so, if you’re at the park today and you see some tall guy jogging who looks like the invisible man, but he’s wearing a nametag, feel free to say hello. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

How are you practicing social closeness?

Most people will do everything in our power to stay away from the agony of endless robotic customer service experiences. 

We have simply spent too much time sitting on hold, sitting in line, hearing words that sounded as if they had been arranged to convey the minimum of meaning. 

Why engage in another emotionless transaction? Better to just eat the money and move on with our lives. 

Marchex conducted a shocking study that estimated we spend hundreds of millions of hours per year on hold, adding up to more than forty days in our lifetime. 

Forty days. This is a tragedy of modern customer service. 

But it’s also an opportunity. Because although these soulless interactions will affect the majority of multimillion dollar companies in no way whatsoever, it’s still an invitation to be more human. If only to remind ourselves that we are alive and connected. 

Linklater, in his award winning animated film about the meanings and purposes of the universe, makes this observation about customer service. 

We go through life with our antennas bouncing off one another, continuously on autopilot, with nothing really human required of us. Stop, go, walk here, drive there, all our action basically for survival. All our communication simply to keep this ant colony buzzing along in an efficient, polite manner. Here’s your change, paper or plastic, credit or debit, you want ketchup with that? But we don’t want a straw, we want real human moments. We want to see you, we want you to see us, and we don’t want to give that up. We don’t want to be ants. 

It’s a profound crisis for humanity that we need to be jarred into noticing. 

My weapon in this fight is a nametag. Wondering what yours might be. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

What is estranging you from much of yours and other people’s humanity? 

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Inventor. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter.  

[email protected]

www.nametagscott.com

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Have you ever been rejected for a job application because you were overqualified? 

Initially, it feels like a compliment. But it’s actually code for something else. 

As someone who has been rejected thousands of times for this very reason, allow me to translate this justification for you. 

Overqualified is code for, we are not confident in our ability to retain you as an employee because you will jump ship the minute a better job shows up. 

Overqualified is code for, we need somebody who will be grateful enough to have this job that they won’t complain when we treat them like shit. 

Overqualified is code for, we want to hire somebody hungry and naive who will slave away and work for way less money than they really deserve in a desperate bid to advance their career. 

Overqualified is code for, we don’t have the time or patience to try and break you all of the habits and methods you developed in your past experience. 

Overqualified is code for, we don’t know what to do with you and we would rather bring in a mindless executor who can keep quiet and follow directions. 

Overqualified is code for, you probably have some ideas of your own, and our organization is already on a predetermined course. 

Each of these translations is saying the same thing. 

Overqualified equals difficult to control. We can’t have every deadbeat on the payroll pestering us with their idiotic brain waves. Next candidate, please. 

The irony here thicker than molasses. Because initially, all signs point to big. We are told to show up and do everything we possibly can with the gifts we have been given. And to seek out opportunities that will enhance our potential and help us operate at their highest point of contribution. 

But once we march into the room, fully equipped to create a holy shit moment and blow the hiring manager away, suddenly, all signs point to small. 

Our power threatens people. It works to our disadvantage. It’s the reason we receive autoresponder emails like:

Unfortunately, we have decided not to proceed with your candidacy and hire someone more junior. Thanks for your interest we wish you the best of luck on your search. 

Who knew being so powerful would be such a problem? 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

Are you a victim of your own greatness?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Inventor. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter.  

[email protected]

www.nametagscott.com

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Tune in and subscribe for a little execution in public.

Join our community of innovators, artists and entrepreneurs

When we get discouraged, the easiest thing to do is stay discouraged. 

To descend down the spiral of doubt and fear, throwing a pity party for one, amplifying and exacerbating our already negative appraisal of ourselves. 

It’s not helpful and it’s not healthy. But then again, it’s really hard to resist the pull of negative momentum. Especially when we routinely don’t get the praise we feel deserve. 

And so, the goal is not to run from these difficult emotions. Because if we feel discouraged and defeated and depressed, there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it actually means we are human and alive and swinging. Not a bad thing. 

But in the words of one of my favorite standup comedians, the thing about sitting in your own shit is, it’s warm, it’s familiar and it’s yours. 

No wonder it’s so easy to stay discouraged. 

In my experience, what we need during this situation is a catapult of confidence. A daily ritual of taking small, productive actions on our own behalf that create value in the world for at least one person besides ourselves. 

From doing housework to having coffee with a friend in need to giving design feedback on a friend’s new website to singing holiday songs at the local senior community. Our efforts might not be rewarded with money or attention or whatever other external currency we think we need. 

But at the very least, we can check another box on our victory log, knowing that we have done something to keep moving our story forward. That’s a catapult of confidence. 

And when discouragement has become a resounding part of our daily life, it is one of the few surefire ways to stop us from sitting in our own shit too long. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

What changes when you choose to be in service to something other than your ego?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Inventor. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter.  

[email protected]

www.nametagscott.com

It’s the world’s first, best and only product development and innovation gameshow!

Tune in and subscribe for a little execution in public.

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Carrey famously wrote himself a check for ten million dollars and kept it in his pocket for seven years until he landed a role paying him that very amount. 

Hollywood cites this as one of the great modern success stories. 

But what’s even more compelling is, twenty years later, he made the following statement. 

Everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of, so they can see that it’s not the answer. 

Funny how life comes full circle.

Also, it’s easy for him to say. Jim is an insanely talented artist and an internationally beloved superstar worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Who among us civilians can relate to that? 

And so, it means this is not about fame and money. This is about desire and fulfillment. Because regardless of income level and career aspirations, expectation is always a choice. Our bubble won’t need to be popped if it’s never inflated in the first place. 

But we can’t help ourselves. Not only do we not want to puncture the fragile and shiny bubble of our own happiness, we also deny that it even exists. 

This new thing is going to change everything for us, we proclaim. 

Baumeister called this behavior the hedonic treadmill, where each step brings us closer to one goal, but new goals appear in the distance just as fast. 

Another classic case of, just when we get there, there disappears. 

Will we ever learn? 

It reminds me of this lovable old guy at my yoga studio who once told me after class. Reflecting on his recent retirement, he told me and a few of the other young guys:

Get what you want quickly, so then you can puncture the illusion that it will save you. 

What if this was the ultimate form of success? What if each one of us learned to puncture our own illusions of happiness before the world did it for us? 

After all, so many of us have downloaded the idea that somebody or something is going to save us. 

But it’s just a virus of the human mind. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…

Will you puncture the bubble of your own pretensions, or let the world do it for you?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Inventor. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter.  

[email protected]

www.nametagscott.com

It’s the world’s first, best and only product development and innovation gameshow!

Tune in and subscribe for a little execution in public.

Join our community of innovators, artists and entrepreneurs