Only Kind of For Sale
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Only Kind Of For Sale
John Paul Derryberry
My dad refused to play golf for the sake of a promotion. He would go on and on about how, if you are good enough for the job, what does it matter if you golf with the boss? One way to put it was that it never felt like my dad was for sale. While it would be wonderful if the world worked that way, we all know it doesn't. My dad was so stubborn in his ideals that they became endearing. It was also annoying, but it was mainly charming. And isn't that the trick in life, finding the right things to be stubborn about and the correct items to be flexible about? Isn't it really trying to figure out what parts of our soul, faith, ideals, and characteristics we are willing to adjust or change and what we will hold as our core identity.
I bring this up because there are snippets of our personalities that, whether we like to admit it or not, are from the people who raised us. It's impossible to spend our formative years observing, hearing, and interacting with those folks that much and not have it rub off on us. And I collected the Derryberry stubborn gene in its full force. Often it has been a barrier in my life, and yet at other times, it is the savior of my identity. As I, too, tried to stick to the landing of not being for sale. Now I don't play golf, but for different reasons than my dad; I find the game dreadfully dull. But I share the thought process that how well you do the job should be of the utmost importance when deciding whom to promote. It's downright silly; that we include other nonsensical things.
And the stubborn gene is more staunch in its approach to my public speaking. But first, let me be clear, it's for sale. I get paid to talk, tailor my presentations to the audience and get feedback from whoever hires me. I strive for a bigger audience, and if a speaker's bureau or publisher wants to buy- I'll listen. I'm stubborn, not stupid, but no amount of $$$ would have me abandon some of the core beliefs I carry within this message. While I sell my talk, I don't sell extras and misleading gimmicks littered throughout the public speaking world. - no shirts, no repeatable phrases, no promise of life-changing moments. I have stickers, but I give those away for free. I have nothing but what I can offer, which should be good enough. My dad would be proud.
Yet there has always been this lingering feeling that this approach has limits. And I have wrestled with whether; am I really okay with my mission having a hard cap because there is just some stuff I won't do? See, I have had a couple speaker bureaus inquire about representation. Man, that would make this so much easier. However, every offer had a big but attached. But only if I added video and music. The answer was no after trying on a presentation with pictures- I hated it. Or would I develop a catchy, inspiring slogan? I tried, and it never felt authentic. I become physically disgusted with myself if I'm not being authentic. Could I create can't-screw-up steps? If you're a long-time reader, you know I hate step presentations passionately. Was I being stubborn or faithful to my moral compass? Probably a bit of both, but I have to look at myself in the mirror. No amount of exposure, money, or social media traction is worth selling out this vision of mine. Even in our world of being able to manipulate so much, authenticity still carries a more significant impact. So I forged ahead, knowing I was likely limiting where this could grow.
Yet, two weeks ago, I received an email from the National Alliance on Mental Illness, and I was selected to present at their conference. No fancy steps, no gimmicks, no videos, just me and how I present through storytelling. I'm not the keynote, just a breakout presenter, but in the words of Frank Sinatra, I did it my way. Or, in remembrance of my father, I did it his way. So if there is a limit to my mission this way, I have yet to hit it. I just climbed to a whole new level.
I'm a national presenter now. A kid from a town of 400, who grew up on a dirt road, broke into the national conference by sticking with what worked for him. It provides hope that vision, belief, and dedication can find a way to an audience no matter where you start. My authentic self found a through way. We all know success through non-authentic methods crumbles too quickly and never has a profound impact. Am I as stubborn as my father? No- I get that some of this is for sale, but not all of it. And at no time should anyone be willing to sell their whole inner self and beliefs for their dreams. Flexible and stubborn, it's a weird mix, but it's a great way to find success, happiness, and compassion in the same place. I think that was what my dad was always searching for. Hopefully, he knows his son found it.