I Will Not Read The Comments
That’s Rule #1
Once, a television project I’ve been working on was mentioned favorably on an entertainment industry website. I wouldn’t have known, but a friend sent me a text message.
“Hey, there’s a story about you and your new thing on the web,” he texted. Followed by a link to the story.
A few seconds later, he texted this: “DO NOT read the comments.”
Of course, by then it was too late. (And I think my friend knew that.) I had clicked over to the article intending to scan it quickly and move on with my day. I had zero intention of reading any of the comments below the article until I saw that there were already fifty-five of them.
So how could I resist? On the one hand, it’s flattering — and baffling — that there are people in the world — at least fifty-five of them — with enough energy and time and available mindshare to spare that they’ve actually got ready-made opinions about me and within a couple of minutes of a story’s being posted, they’re up there commenting away.
On the other hand, when you discover that fifty-five strangers have felt called to share publicly their opinions about you, it’s probably not because they like you and are happy for your small recent success.
Let me summarize the general thrust of the comments, for convenience: “Rob,” the commenters seemed to agree, “is an elderly hack past his prime and should die, soon, and make room for younger writers.”
They said it more nicely (some of them) but the gist was: Him again? Why isn’t his career over already?
Actually, that wasn’t the gist — I think one of them said, literally, Him again? Why isn’t his career over already?
I don’t know why I was surprised by this. The first rule of adult life is that everyone thinks someone else is keeping them from getting that big job, whatever that big job is.
Wait. No. The first rule of adult life is: never read the comments.
The second rule of adult life is: everyone thinks someone else is keeping them from getting that big job, from getting that big break, from putting a foot on the big ladder that leads from the apartment with the roommates and the shared bathroom to the Spanish style or Colonial and the expensive children with private school tuition.
But the third rule of adult life — and this is the one that really counts — is that the second rule, if you let it get to you, will mess you up.
When I started my career in the entertainment business, the system was closed and cosy and run by a few powerful mandarins. I am, as one commenter pointed out, a poster boy for the old system, where being in the right spot at the right time really did pay off. (He didn’t say it as politely.)
I’ve been very lucky. But a career in show business — or any business, and life in general — has always been a complicated blend of talent and luck. Success always required more luck than we’re willing to admit, and different talents than we usually take pride in.
But when you find yourself complaining about a system that’s tilted against you, even if it is — maybe especially if it is — you’re wasting your energy. It’s probably true, as an economic matter, that a combination of longer lifespans and financial incentives has meant a lot of older people are still in the workplace. What’s true in the private sector is even more true in the public: Washington DC now resembles a vast and luxurious assisted living facility.
It’s a bad spiral to fall into. Someone else’s (small) victory may seem infuriating and unjust. The world may appear as a zero-sum nightmare, where a step forward for one project means a step back for another. And a door that opens for one guy must mean the door for you will remain locked and shut.
The trick is to see these perfectly human feelings for what they are: dangerous distractions that will keep you from a success of your own.
So here’s my advice: instead of writing petty, anonymous comments on a website, write positive and complimentary ones using your real name.
And then follow that up with an email and a resume. Do this for a few weeks and one of those people will hire you at a very high level and at a salary that you probably don’t deserve.
And that’s the fourth rule of adult life.
hen it was too late. (And I think my friend knew that.) I had clicked over to the article intending to scan it quickly and move on with my day. I had zero intention of reading any of the comments below the article until I saw that there were already fifty-five of them.
So how could I resist? On the one hand, it’s flattering — and baffling — that there are people in the world — at least fifty-five of them — with enough energy and time and available mindshare to spare that they’ve actually got ready-made opinions about me and within a couple of minutes of a story’s being posted, they’re up there commenting away.
On the other hand, when you discover that fifty-five strangers have felt called to share publicly their opinions about you, it’s probably not because they like you and are happy for your small recent success.
Let me summarize the general thrust of the comments, for convenience: “Rob,” the commenters seemed to agree, “is an elderly hack past his prime and should die, soon, and make room for younger writers.”
They said it more nicely (some of them) but the gist was: Him again? Why isn’t his career over already?
Actually, that wasn’t the gist — I think one of them said, literally, Him again? Why isn’t his career over already?
I don’t know why I was surprised by this. The first rule of adult life is that everyone thinks someone else is keeping them from getting that big job, whatever that big job is.
Wait. No. The first rule of adult life is: never read the comments.
The second rule of adult life is: everyone thinks someone else is keeping them from getting that big job, from getting that big break, from putting a foot on the big ladder that leads from the apartment with the roommates and the shared bathroom to the Spanish style or Colonial and the expensive children with private school tuition.
But the third rule of adult life — and this is the one that really counts — is that the second rule, if you let it get to you, will mess you up.
When I started my career in the entertainment business, the system was closed and cosy and run by a few powerful mandarins. I am, as one commenter pointed out, a poster boy for the old system, where being in the right spot at the right time really did pay off. (He didn’t say it as politely.)
I’ve been very lucky. But a career in show business — or any business, and life in general — has always been a complicated blend of talent and luck. Success always required more luck than we’re willing to admit, and different talents than we usually take pride in.
But when you find yourself complaining about a system that’s tilted against you, even if it is — maybe especially if it is — you’re wasting your energy. It’s probably true, as an economic matter, that a combination of longer lifespans and financial incentives has meant a lot of older people are still in the workplace. What’s true in the private sector is even more true in the public: Washington DC now resembles a vast and luxurious assisted living facility.
It’s a bad spiral to fall into. Someone else’s (small) victory may seem infuriating and unjust. The world may appear as a zero-sum nightmare, where a step forward for one project means a step back for another. And a door that opens for one guy must mean the door for you will remain locked and shut.
The trick is to see these perfectly human feelings for what they are: dangerous distractions that will keep you from a success of your own.
So here’s my advice: instead of writing petty, anonymous comments on a website, write positive and complimentary ones using your real name.
And then follow that up with an email and a resume. Do this for a few weeks and one of those people will hire you at a very high level and at a salary that you probably don’t deserve.
And that’s the fourth rule of adult life.
The most succinct comments get the most "likes."
Excellent advice. Resume to follow. 😀