I’m penning this week’s post from Canggu, Bali, surrounded by its stunning coastline, vibrant food, rich culture, and warm-hearted locals.
I’m here on my honeymoon.
My (now) wife is laughing at me as I type away. I really should be having a cocktail instead.
As I sit in one of the many cafes, people-watching, I’m struck by a peculiar scene. The area is teeming with foreigners, not just those on holiday (like yours truly) but an endless parade of influencers, aspiring influencers, and self-styled celebrities, all busy capturing every moment of their lives for social media. Fame, it seems, is the aim – a constant broadcast of “me, me, me.” I’m astounded by the continual selfies, the obsession with every mirror, recorded moments of life made picture-perfect for the internet.
Can our lives really be that important? Or interesting? Where did humility go?
Don’t get me wrong: confidence is great. And we all have to advertise ourselves to a degree, especially if self-employed. But what I’m watching here is self-assurance morphing into self-absorption. I can’t help but remember my grandfather, often saying, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy.” It took me a long time to understand what he meant, and at times I’ve forgotten his advice (though life promptly brought me down to earth). Growing up, no matter how well I did at school, he always reminded me to stay humble. But society now seems to equate visibility with worth, fueling a shift from inner confidence to outward performance.
Watching this constant parade of influencers with their pumped-up lips, sculpted chests, and curated personas, I’m reminded of a related work incident.
Years ago, when I managed a team of salespeople, I sent one of my younger BDMs to her first conference. Her role included organizing karaoke night and she was excited to make it fun for everyone. She went around taking names, compiling a list, and letting people know when it was their turn to sing. Midway through, a senior executive from a competitor company approached her, demanding to sing right away. My (inexperienced and innocent) BDM, politely explained that she’d add the exec’s name to the list and call her up in order. But that wasn’t good enough – the executive became incensed and barked:
👉 “Do you know who I am?”
In her mind, her title was a golden ticket, granting her special treatment, superseding basic fairness and grace. The exec believed she was superior to others; a more important, deserving, and entitled human being.
This kind of behavior, especially in a leadership role, exemplifies how arrogance can derail not only respect but connection with others. Success might deserve recognition, but entitlement doesn’t. And as I observe the Bali influencers constantly self-promoting, the link is clear: humility isn’t just a nice-to-have; it’s essential. It grounds us, fosters real respect, and keeps us from the hollow pursuit of admiration over genuine connection.
Humility isn’t trending, but I hope it never goes out of style. In embracing it, surely we move toward a deeper, more fulfilling kind of happiness? One that no microphone or selfie can ever provide.
Do you know who I am?
Sorry, I’ve no idea. But I’m pretty sure you’re about to tell me …
👇
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