One of the bigger issues facing people today that’s not common to talk about openly, is imposter syndrome. For the unaware, imposter syndrome is the feeling that you are somehow an imposter in life or your profession; unqualified to do the job you’ve been tasked with and afraid you’ll someday be discovered as a fraud.
For most of my professional life, I’ve carried a substantial amount of imposter syndrome. Even into my 30’s, I found it present in my life and I have done my best to actively combat it.
This afternoon, I went on one of my routine rituals, which involves going to Guitar Center, playing guitars and picking up a new set of guitar strings. I absolutely love this routine, and I always feel a certain measure of peace in going there, coupled with excitement to throw on a new set of strings on one of my guitars at home.
As a lefty, the selection of guitars they have is often limited to a number I can count on one hand. The lack of lefty guitars is well-known by all of the staff, and they frequently comment about how they wish they had more.
A few weeks ago, I took Atlas to the store and we found ourselves in one of the ‘expensive’ rooms, where all of the guitars are locked up. Lo and behold, there was a beautiful looking acoustic guitar in the corner – a lefty. Looking at the 4-digit price tag, as well as the other guitars in the room, I decided that it wasn’t the right afternoon to take it for a spin, given that Atlas was with me and I didn’t want an untimely accident to happen with any of the guitars on the wall that require amortization.
Today was the day, and I happily drove to the store after church, eager to see what the more expensive guitar felt like compared to others. I walked up to the counter and asked one of the employees if they wouldn’t mind unlocking the guitar for me.
As they were unlocking it, I secretly hoped they’d leave the room so that I could play by myself. It boiled down to me feeling like I wasn’t ‘good enough’ to play a guitar like the one on the wall. As the employee took it down, he told me about how incredible of a guitar it was, despite being made in Beijing.
He handed me the wooden beauty and then left the room. I had peace to play by myself. After tuning the guitar, I stopped to appreciate the feel of it; it felt absolutely incredible in my hands, despite the tuning knobs feeling cheap and flimsy. Then, I began to play it.
It sounded terrible, and I didn’t have to be an expert guitar player to realize it. There was no warmth or depth to the sound. It sounded as cheap as a Chinese toilet (trust me, they’re awful) and I walked out of the room after hanging it on the wall after only a few minutes.
While checking out, the employee asked me how I liked the guitar.
“You were right. It felt incredible…but that thing sounds like shit” I told him. He didn’t seem all that surprised, either. It certainly wasn’t worth the price tag it carried, and could easily stand to lose one of the digits in the cost.
Despite being in a ‘fancy’ guitar room and boasting a 4-figure price tag, that guitar wasn’t worth more than a few hundred bucks because of the way it sounded, and I was thrilled to come home to restring my guitar and finally hear the warmth, depth and tone I felt that other guitar could have provided me with – certainly for the price tag it carried.
There’s a phrase in the Bible – “Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart.” and I think that verse is particularly applicable on this scenario. The bust guitar certainly looked like it would have an incredible tone, and even the feel of it was nice. However, when I played it, the sound of it sounded as if it were coming out of an aluminum can – rather than a finely made guitar.
On the surface level, I felt like an imposter for playing such an expensive instrument. But I quickly realized that my skills didn’t negate my ability to tell it was a cheaply-made, overpriced piece of junk made in China.
In life, I think there are a lot of ways to tell the quality of a person, just like that guitar. Some people may look nice, and even feel good in your hands, but when they begin to play the ‘tune’ of their heart, you quickly realize they aren’t worth your time, money or even presence.
Oftentimes, it’s the people who see the emperor who has no clothes that feel the most naked themselves, despite being covered in rich garments. I’ve spent a lot of time feeling this way and decided it’s time to put an end to it. This will be the year that I don’t sell myself short, feel like some sort of fraud in what I do or how I earn a living, and start to walk boldly as the man I am.
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