I’m about to get real with you. My hope is that you can see my transparency, see my humiliation, and find hope through my embarrassment.
I was speaking at a conference. I normally get paid to speak, but agreed to do this gig for free. Fortunately, I got to bring a friend along, so I figured I’d at least get to show him how cool I am. (I told you I’m going to be real.)
Also, the boss who fired me was speaking there too, so it felt at least somewhat vindicating that we were peers on the speaker roster.
The conference director approached me to help them with a last minute video for the main sessions. It was a transition element where I interviewed some conference attendees and just made something funny. We both agreed it shouldn’t look anything like a bit from the conference where I previously worked (the place I got fired from). We didn’t want my former boss to think we were copying something from him.
So I spent all my free time that day interviewing, pulling out my funniest material. I put it into the hands of the editing team and finished my talks.
The main session finally arrived, and I got a great spot near the front so my friend and I could, again, see how awesome I am.
The lights dimmed. The video played. And it was a gigantic image of me talking – but my voice was silent. Instead, text showed up below my face that read, “Jonathan’s Mom” – a joke from those videos that we used to make at my old conference. Then for the next two minutes, the whole crowd watched me walking around “talking silently” to the camera while cheesy music played instead. I was making my most animated faces – which made sense with what I was saying, but not with silence. It was embarrassing.
Humiliation point #1: I looked like an idiot in front of my friend.
Humiliation point #2: It looked like I copied something from my former boss for a conference that was supposed to be about creativity.
Humiliation point #3: The most awkward two minutes of the conference featured me as the star.
It was obviously a mistake, but I didn’t know that, because the conference director got on stage and said they played a practical joke on me. (He was just trying to save face for the conference, not realizing I kind of believed him.)
Apologies streamed in after the service. But the feelings were real.
But here’s the think. I survived. I didn’t lose any reputation, if I had any in the first place. The damage was just in my ability to project a cool image. Which in reality, is just fake. It’s not the real me.
Humiliation doesn’t have to ruin you. In fact, I think you can learn from it – learn why it was humiliating in the first place – and move forward.
Next time this sort of thing happens – and I know it will – my hope is that it will just be slightly less humiliating. That I will have learned at least a little from that experience.
Wow! Didn’t realize this happened. I’m so pleased that you have responded so well to these tough times! Proud of you, son!