Publication Date: Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Board of Contributors: Going, going, gone...When we stop selling (ourselves) others are more likely to buy
Board of Contributors: Going, going, gone...When we stop selling (ourselves) others are more likely to buy
(February 09, 2005) by Nancy McGaraghan
Our granddaughter, Emma, knew exactly what she wanted for her third birthday: A pink princess scooter. Thanks to Disney and a local toy store, we found just the thing.
The scooter was day-glow pink and covered with princesses and flowers. Blinking lights were added around the base to give it a look of authority suitable for today's princesses.
Emma squealed in wide-eyed delight, a kiddy version of the old television show, Queen for a Day. But this is real life. Instead of "happily ever after," the perfect moment passed when the scooter went for a road test.
Emma took the new scooter out for a spin. Scoping out the neighborhood, she looked over her shoulder and saw a little boy walking with his parents. She stopped in her tracks, leaned back, and looked very casual. "I want him to see my new scooter!" "Conspicuous consumption!" our son groaned, and shook his head.
Conspicuous, maybe, but not impressive enough. As the boy got closer, Emma could see that he was walking a puppy on a leash. Puppy trumps scooter, even a pink, princess scooter. Emma's wide eyes narrowed, but she held her ground. The competition passed. "I can have a puppy when I get older, too," she sighed, and scooted on her way.
From Queen for a Day to Queen-of-the-Mountain at the tender age of 3.
The fragile ego and transparent behavior of a 3-year-old does not surprise us. Likewise what would adolescence be without competing for approval from peers?
But the game of oneupsmanship is not just child's play. The need or desire to impress seems to be written in the human genes.
From legendary yarns of barroom fame, to parading out the wonder kids, the dog with perfect pitch, and golf scores that are in the tank since my last triathlon, we adults are also good at packaging who and what we are. As with toddlers and teens, sometimes what we really want is to impress others.
Whether we actively compete or just as actively resist noticing the accomplishments of others, it could be our own self-worth that is on the auction block.
I knew a fine old gentleman who loved to stroll through the neighborhoods of Palo Alto. He once commented that all of the front yards were neat and tidy, but he could not help wondering what the back yards looked like. "Do the back yards of our lives look like the front yards?" he went on to ask. Forget about our garages.
Working in addiction recovery, we ask a similar question: "Does the inside match the outside?" For an addict, "the back yard" of his or her life is not pretty. Yet often only the addict knows this. Bravado on the outside buys respect from others, but usually not from the person himself or herself. But don't we all too often ask someone else to be the judge of our worth?
Selling ourselves is not necessarily a bad thing. Civilization would not have come this far if none of us cared two cents about what others thought of us. However, sometimes insecurity, loneliness or boredom propel us into this marketplace mentality. Trouble is we can get carried away with the marketing. I forget that the only person I need to sell myself to is me. Bragging and playing it cool are useless to this end.
Instead, what we need is time away -- even a mental break -- from whatever compels us to compete for attention and approval from others.
Like Emma, we want it all. We think we "need it all" to measure up. A better solution would be to take a quiet moment to appreciate whom we are, instead of trying to buy approval from others.
The English describe a gentleman as someone who can play the bagpipes but doesn't. Not trying to impress turns out to be more impressive.
When we can be alone and enjoy our own company -- when the inside matches the outside -- our need to sell ourselves recedes. The distance between us and someone we love or want to get to know might become shorter, also. We can give ourselves just as we are. In that simple, honest gesture, we have our best chance of being received.
Nancy McGaraghan is a member of the Weekly's Board of Contributors, and a teacher and board member of Gracenter in San Francisco. She can be e-mailed at chezmcg@hotmail.com.
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