The Myth of Popularity
Growing up, I never cared much about being popular.
That is, until I hit junior high.
Then I had to have all the right brands of clothing , because I knew that if I was wearing anything that might be found on a rack at Mervyn’s, I could risk the danger of being socially ostracized.
So my parents would give me a clothing budget, and I would blow the entire wad onone pair of pants and a shirt or two.
And that was supposed to last me the entire fall season. (Apparently I was unaware of the fact that wearing the same outfit 3 – 4 times in a week might do more to ostracize me than any outfit I donned.)
I let the pressure of being cool affect my decisions, and I spent tons of money on brands that didn’t even last—most had disappeared by the time I was in high school.
As I grew older, I became more and more comfortable in my own skin. I found myself taking almost the other extreme, where for months I wore a pair of old dress shoes (complete with holes worn in the toes) to work. I was a high school math teacher at the time, and figured shoes that once looked professional should be afforded some type of staying power, even though my co-workers wondered if I secretly tied my clothes to a stick on my walk home.
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Last night I came home from work feeling quite discouraged.
You see, Wild Goose Coffee Roasters is in a growth season right now, which is really exciting. It also means that we are introducing ourselves to cafes all over southern California.
And “introducing ourselves” means sales. You know, the down and dirty, pound the pavement, leave no stone unturned kind of sales.
Now, we do it in a classy manner, and we’re giving away tons of free samples of our product as a means of introduction. That way when I call to follow up on the samples, people are generally kind rather than hanging up on me or telling me to go to Hemet, or some other hot and barren place.
But part of me feels like it’s junior high all over again.
We’ll get compliments on our packaging and our branding. Which is great, except a surprising number of people don’t bother tasting the coffee inside said packaging. They want the style, and don’t seem to care as much about the substance.
Or, this great coffee will sit unopened, rejected because our branding isn’t simple enough. Or because we’re not one of the trendy, “cool” coffee roasters right now.
They say a typical conversion rate for sales is that for every 100 introductions, 10 people will be interested. And of those 10, one of them will become a customer.
Which means I have to face 99 rejections for every new café customer.
My wife reminded me last night that it’s not about being cool or popular. She was kind enough to bring it back to my school experiences.
She reminded me that when I was younger, I made a point to treat everyone with the same degree of kindness and respect, regardless of whether they were considered cool or not. And by doing so, I found myself incredibly well-liked, because people like to be around people who care for them.
Fast forward to the current situation where I found myself getting sucked in to acting cool. It isn’t working, because I wasn’t being true to myself:
Who I am is someone who cares about people’s insides more than what groups they hang with, what kinds of clothes they wear, or what kinds of cars they drive.
Who I am is a relational person who prefers spending time with people, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
Who I am is someone whom God is shaping to be increasingly more caring about peoples’ situations and stories, and less concerned about what they can do for me.
And so rather than focusing on what I might not be, I am reminded of who I am, of what I bring to life’s table, and what that can mean for others.
And something tells me that the path to profound and steady peace starts right there.
