There are only so many free nachos available

My first brush with celebrity happened at a taqueria a few weeks after my debut book went viral.

The woman behind the counter recognized me from my article in the local paper, so she kindly offered me a meal on the house.

Anyone who wears a nametag every day gets free nachos, she laughed.

Now, at that time in my life, having only been out of college about a year and working a minimum wage job at a furniture store, this was the single greatest thing that had ever happened to me.

Free nachos? Are you kidding me? Fame rocks. Could you throw in some extra guacamole to on the side?

Over the next several years, my brand grew to reach a global audience, and there were thousands of other little moments like that.

Nothing culturally significant. It’s not like the nametag story was trending on social media or search engines. But enough people recognized me at airports and conferences that I occasionally felt like a celebrity.

Naturally, my ego lavished the attention. Being adored was intoxicating. It made me feel loved and special. Plus, it was good for business. Whatever level of celebrity my brand had garnered, that raised my credibility in a way that made selling less of an uphill battle. When clients called and there was only one person they wanted to hire, it was a fairly straightforward negotiation.

However, like most people who luck their way into celebrity, my fifteen minutes eventually ended, and public interest in the nametag story waned.

We had good run for a while there, but there are only so many free nachos available. My ego howled in protest.

Entering into my thirties, I became nostalgic for a time when my ideas were actually considered interesting enough to make headlines. And that was bad for business. Companies want to hire someone who has heat right now, not twenty years ago.

But while grieving the loss of my lucky spike in social capital, something surprising happened.

Trying to be a celebrity became less interesting than trying to find things to celebrate.

Particularly at a career level, as I transitioned from entrepreneur to employee. Being in the spotlight was fine, and I knew how to seize the live moment and deliver in that space to maximize leverage, but what motivated me at work now was finding ways to shine that spotlight on others.

Being a backstage worker, as my therapist once said.

Because honestly, how much more ego gratification did I need?

I was okay with myself. I knew my value. Let’s use my gifts to help elevate others.  

Nepo’s heartwarming book about the living the creative life says:

The momentum of getting keeps us from giving, and we resurrect the wrong kind of power. It can happen to anyone. The confusion between giving attention and getting attention is so great that we often want to be well known rather than well knowing. We often want to be great rather than true. We often long for celebrity while secretly aching for something to celebrate.

Ultimately, mass exposure can definitely be blessing to help our message get out there. But as we evolve as artists, if we don’t find new reasons to do things, then we’re likely to get bored or worse yet, get addicted to the fame high.

Consider how you might expand your value by elevating the people around you.

It’s a very different kind of satisfaction, and there are no free nachos provided, but it’s certainly less stressful. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Are you trying to be a celebrity or trying to find things to celebrate?