It’s 2018, and I’ve landed in the hot seat—the newly minted Chief Marketing Officer for a DTC menswear brand. The job didn’t stick, but damn, do I remember this: sitting up front on the 5th floor of our bustling New York headquarters in front of the whole company. It's our big debut. We're the fresh faces in the leadership lineup, fielding softball questions from the CEO. Where have you worked, where have you lived, why are you here—yada, yada, yada. Then, out of nowhere, she hits us with a doozy: "What’s a movie scene that represents who you are?" My brain goes haywire for a second, then it hits me:
Here’s the scene: Uma Thurman, playing “The Bride,” wakes up to find herself nailed inside a wooden coffin. Her enemies thought they could bury her alive—literally. But Uma’s not having it. Drawing on every gritty lesson from the wild-bearded Pei Mei, she pounds through the coffin with pure Kung Fu fury and claws her way back to the land of the living. Next thing, she’s in a diner looking like hell warmed over, calmly asking for a glass of water. Classic Tarantino. Utter brilliance.
A Ridiculous Metaphor.
And that’s me—hyperbolically speaking, of course. It was true in 2018, with my face burning as I spilled my guts to a room full of strangers. It was true in the tumult of 1988, a kid grappling with his identity. And it’s true now, as I navigate the complex dynamics of running a solo business. This scene isn’t just about physical survival; for me, it’s about professional resurgence—constantly reinventing and reasserting oneself in the face of industry challenges and career setbacks. It’s a little grim, maybe, but it’s not about the darkness. It's about finding your way out; my way out.
Why am I dredging up this cinematic deep dive? Does it mesh with the relentless pursuit for quality? Hell yeah, it does. Reflecting on life and identity as a movie scene (or a snippet from a TV show, book, or song), might sound zany, but it’s surprisingly revealing. We can’t sketch out what “better” looks like until we get real about who we are—and that’s a messy, sprawling quest. It benefits inputs from unexpected places, including the big screen.
So, who am I? Who are you, beyond the easy labels?
Belonging & Breaking Free.
Once, I was "the fat kid with an absent mom." Later, "the academic en route to professorship." Then came the labels like "the Google/Spotify/Instagram guy." These were tags others slapped on me, each a new mask to wear. Not one felt like it fully captured me, but each shaped how others saw me—and, more insidiously, how I saw myself.
We often wear these labels like armor, or sometimes, shackles. They confine us within boundaries others have drawn, narrowing our own view of what we might become. Wrestling off these labels can feel like an existential battle, one where every punch thrown to break free reveals a piece of who we really are, stripped of others' expectations.
That's a fundamental human tension: the drive to belong clashing with the desire to break out, to claim our own identity.
Keep Punching Upwards.
So, I'll turn that idea back to you. Think of a movie scene—or another piece of art—that nails your essence. It doesn’t need to be epic or earth-shattering, but it should resonate with you. What does that scene say about your past struggles, your triumphs, your path forward? Share it. Let’s riff on these snapshots together, uncovering how they reflect our complex selves and guide our quests for authenticity and quality.
As much as this is about swapping stories, it's more about connecting dots—between our true selves and the roles we play in our life stories. It's about ditching those labels we've been slapped with and digging a little deeper. What's your scene, and what truths does it unveil about you?
Silly as it may seem, embracing this can propel us closer to the grail of quality—not just in what we do, but in who we become. For now, I'll just keep punching upward.
With warmth, respect & gratitude,
Eric
Brilliant observations, Eric. In thinking about my own experiences, the piece of art that instantly comes to mind is an off-Broadway show I saw several years ago called "Everyday Rapture" starring the incandescent Sherie Rene Scott. I admired the show, and Ms. Scott's performance, for so many reasons. But the thing I keep thinking about, even all these years later, is how she managed to MAKE a piece of art that spoke so directly to her inherent gifts as a performer. In doing so, she created the role she was always meant to play.