Warning! Your Ego is Out to Get You

I remember a scene from the movie: Independence Day. The President of the United States is talking to a captured alien through a rigged mental telepathy system: “We could learn from each other,” says the President in a tone of empathetic understanding. Receiving no response, the President then asks: “What do you want here on earth?” In a raspy, incensed voice the alien replies: “WE WANT TO KILL YOU!

My friends, after many years on this planet, I can honestly say that the unhealthy edition of the male ego-the weak ego-wants to kill us if left unchecked. Just like the alien your ego is on a one-way street to your demise. My experience is that this malady is predominant among the male species. Sure, there are plenty of women who suffer from this disease, but nothing close to the male kind. Wonder why so many women are exceptional leaders? They have healthier egos. Hey, folks, that’s my 50 years of corporate experience, working with women who were exceptional: strong, empathetic, and intelligent…sans ego. My wife is one as well as my adult daughter.

About eleven years ago at my son’s wedding, one of his groomsmen with a few extra minutes to spare, innocently asked: “Tell me a bit about yourself. I felt like Count Dracula discovering an unexpected dollop of fresh blood. Ah yes! A young victim ripe for conquest! An hour later, after doing my very best to demonstrate how much of a hero I was-and continued to be-in my own mind, the young man told my son about the “interesting conversation I had with your father.” “Oh no! You didn’t ask him about himself, did you?!

See, I used to be the most interesting person I knew. Just give me an hour to tell you all about myself: the hero’s journey!

This article might be yet another attempt to talk about myself. I do hope not. Rather, it is an attempt to share my experience so, perhaps you might not make the same mistakes I did and continue to do so as a recovering egotist until I adhere to my new mantra/acronym: WAIT. “Why Am I Talking?” I am a member of the walking wounded: the crucible for the creation of the male egotist. Now, my MO really depends on my audience, but being a retired Disney executive ( there I go again!), it’s usually in story format; something along the lines of: “so there I was and here was the challenge I faced, but true to my mission I achieved the goal. I “took that hill” despite the many obstacles and vicissitudes- all on a national or global scale. These days we see something like this in written form on LinkedIn, better known as “the humble brag.” That goes something like: “proud to be honored by (fill in the half a page describing, in detail, an entire resume of accomplishments with that one foot in the door). I prefer to write an article on LinkedIn with a blow by blow account, inserting my part as an afterthought. Quite ingenious. I just love reading my pieces over and over even if most people on my 500 contacts list don’t. My in-person rendition has become a bit more sophisticated as I have aged. Afterall, at my age there is so much to tell! “Tell me about you…” Bite my tongue until its bleeding. Wait for it…wait for it. Say: ‘wow” where appropriate and ka-bam: insert my story. It’s just a variation of “tell me about you. What do you think of me?”

It is a malady I struggle with, sometimes, hourly. The interesting part about all of this is that it has rarely gotten me anywhere other than to provide a major turn-off to my wife and children. I don’t think I have gained anything from those many hours of “the hero’s story.” It’s a bit like looking forward to a few tumblers of ice-chilled Scotch and soda, only to suffer the remorse and pain of a hangover the next morning. There is no reward for verbally abusing others with your story other than a hangover of regret. But don’t lose heart! It’s not hopeless. I have no idea how it has happened throughout my life, but almost all my close friends, and especially my family members, do not suffer one iota from this ego malady. The interesting part of this is that to a person, including my adult children, each one of them is 100% more accomplished than I am. More interesting, not one of them has ever bragged about themselves in any way when they certainly could. The question I consistently ask myself is: what do these people see in me to be my close friends when I am the only one bragging? I’ve discovered-quite late in life-unfortunately- that the cure to this malady is twofold: abstinence one hour at a time, and the realization that all those hours of sucking up air in the room with my story has been no more useful to me throughout my life than a screen door in a submarine.