Hola! So sorry for being MIA for the past couple of weeks. It’s the usual November workplace crunch, and I’ve been occupied with a ton of work including, among other things, emceeing my company’s World Marketing Conference – a glitzy 2-day event attended by senior management and hundreds of overseas sales and marketing staff. Here’s what was running through my mind right before the event started:
I’m standing in the middle of the stage, microphone clasped in my sweaty palms, bright spotlights training on me like police searchlights on a trapped prisoner. In front of me sits a sea of hundreds of business-suited men and women, murmuring in anticipation. My CEO in the front row looks expectantly at me and frowns.
I’m nervous because I’ve never emceed a formal event before, let alone one as huge of a scale as this. Backstage, I silently pray that my scripted jokes wouldn’t be met with stony silence. One screw-up, one waver in my voice, could affect my reputation for years to come. It’s like freakin’ high school all over again.
But then again, no one knows better. Just by looking at me, no one can tell that the only emceeing experience I’ve ever had is hosting my baby cousin’s birthday party. And so I get a stunning revelation:
Just fake it.
I take a deep breath, smile my biggest smile, and start talking. The delivery goes well. My colleagues congratulate me afterwards. No one could tell I was nervous as hell. One of the big bosses slaps me on my shoulder and tells me to get ready for more emceeing gigs. I may not ever be as good as a professional, but I can totally fake a performance that’s good enough.
How Do They Afford All This?
My successful attempt at faking got me thinking about how everyone goes through life wearing masks and faking something.
Whenever I hit the clubs, I can’t help but observe the dudes sitting at the VIP tables. They’d be surrounded by other rich-looking, beautiful people, as if they just stepped out of a Like A G6 music video. Just like me, they’d probably be dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, but their shirts are $400 apiece from Armani and mine are $40 from the sale rack at Uniqlo. They’d be downing champagne by the bottle, while I’d be chilling with my bottle of Tiger Beer. Once the night is over, they’d be driving home in their Porches or Maseratis, while I’d be stumbling to find a cab (or a Night Rider bus if I’m not too tipsy).
For a brief moment, I’d think to myself: “How do they afford all this?” I’d start to wonder what they do for a living, and how awesome it must be to be them.
Wealth – The Easiest Thing To Fake
And then I remind myself that I’m simply jumping to conclusions. What if they’re faking it, just like how I was faking my prowess as an emcee? After all, wealth is the easiest thing to fake. Blow a couple of months’ salary on clothes and drinks, and anyone can look like a superstar.
The truth is, I don’t know anything about them. I don’t know if they’re prudent in their spending, or if they spend every cent they earn. I don’t know if they earn thousands of dollars in passive income, or if they lie awake worrying about how they’ll keep up their lifestyles. I don’t know if they have a rock solid portfolio, or if they’re so deeply in debt that even their enormous paychecks can’t make a dent in their credit card bills.
Redirecting the Moolah
And then I remind myself about just how much I’ve been pouring into my savings and investments, month after month, without fail. No wonder I haven’t bought a new pair of jeans in 4 years – I’ve been too busy shoveling cash into index ETFs and building up a downpayment fund so I don’t have to take on too much mortgage debt.
No wonder I can’t afford to celebrate the end of the year with five bottles of champagne, because I’d much rather set aside a few hundred dollars every month for travel, funding trips like my $3,500 West Coast vacation. It’s not that I can’t afford to spend on nice clothes and drinks, I just choose to put my money towards things that I value much more: freedom and experiences.
Lots of people fake their wealth. But without looking at their audited personal financial statements, there’s really no way to tell if they’re the real deal, or if it’s just a well-polished illusion. We simply can’t make assumptions just by looking at people.
So keep that in mind the next time you watch an emcee on stage, or catch yourself getting jealous of that well-dressed dude at the VIP table. They might just be faking it. 😉
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