| Image via newsbusters.org |
It’s always the same charade — the beloved musician or actress or Hall of Fame inductee marches up to the stage, reverently accepts the gold trophy from some grinning goober in a shiny tuxedo, then, with a hand on the trophy and another firmly bracing the podium, he or she addresses an adoring audience of millions: “I am so humbled by this [insert award/achievement here].” The camera cuts to a few superhero-chinned men and elegant, stuffy women who close their eyes, smile broadly and nod at the honoree, because how refreshing — not only is this kid talented, but gracious as a duchess, too! Well I ain’t buyin’. On behalf of losers everywhere, I declare that affirmation of humility — and all those like it — to be pure baloney. Know what’s humbling? Not winning the trophy; not being nominated for the trophy; not even being friends with somebody that was nominated for the trophy. I’m not saying humble people never win awards, or that it’s impossible to maintain one’s humility after an award’s been won, but to claim that distinction and praise have somehow produced humility? It doesn’t even make sense! It’s like saying I learned molecular biology by eating a Fruit Roll-Up. Every time I hear that phony line I want to hop onstage and ask how exactly this square-jawed meathead came to be humbled by acting in a movie that earned him seven bazilllion dollars, legions of hyperventilating groupies and a mansion with five swimming pools. Overwhelming? Surprising? Sure, I’ll buy that. But what is it about getting hoisted upon teammates’ shoulders after sinking that championship-clinching buzzer-beater that diminishes one’s self-esteem? Who are you, Eeyore? “Aw shucks... I’m just the lowly ole’ 7-foot freak athlete that single-handedly won the biggest game of the season, and now me and three cheerleaders are piling into my Lamborghini to head to a parade in my honor... thanks for noticin’.” I remember sitting in a big meeting during my LDS mission when this one really smarmy guy was named the new assistant to the president (sort of a big deal in the mission organization). He got up front and blathered on about how humbled he was to be chosen for the position. “Humbled, indeed,” I remember harrumphing — and rightly so, seeing as how when I became an assistant myself, it wasn’t all that humbling; I was pretty pleased with myself, truth be told. The humbling part came four days later when I backed the mission van into a light post in a parking lot, then wrecked the thing completely in a roundabout a month later. (I actually hit a bus, so I had about 80 passengers, 20 chickens and several burlap sacks of tomatoes all glaring down at me while I sorted things out with the driver.) So enough with your humility, Mr. Grammy-winning olympic gold medalist that just won his fourth Nobel Prize. Just once I’d like to see somebody scramble up to the podium (excluding Kanye West) and say what we know he’s probably thinking: “It feels great to look at the other high-caliber nominees and know I’m better than all of them. Neener neener, failures.” |
