Humblebragging and business
Sometimes also called back-door-bragging, the fine art of humblebragging is self-promotion disguised as a complaint. To be clear, simple self-promotion is not humblebragging. You must appear to be trying for sympathy. “Poor me, woe is me, you should be glad you’re not me…”
I first became aware of this technique many years ago when I belonged, briefly, to a women’s social organization whose name sounds a little like a triple-A baseball team. (Not quite the Major League, but getting there.) At their meetings, the ladies sat around and complained about problems most people don’t have:
It’s impossible find a good Mercedes mechanic in this town!
Our pool service did not show up on the right day—again!
I simply cannot find a refrigerated facility that stores furs for the summer!
Andrew is having the worst trouble in school! He tested out of all the AP math courses and they have nothing advanced enough for him.
Someone start a telethon for these people!
The real messages: I have an expensive car, a pool, fur coats, and a smart kid.
Humblebragging is one of the most transparent of self-promotion techniques, and It’s hard to believe anyone in business would fall for it. But apparently they do, because the practice persists.
I’m sooo busy because clients won’t talk to anyone else. They insist on talking to me!
Oh no—more meetings! Out of 600 people, why was I selected to represent our department on the Presidential Task Force?
Not another request for a media interview! I am so tired of being the go-to expert on this subject!
I’m going to have to lock my office door. Everyone comes in here, asking for my advice!
I haven’t taken a vacation in years because they just can’t spare me for two weeks!
If you’re tempted to say something like this, think about how it will affect the people around you. If they are struggling to get their careers started, they will not feel sorry for you. In fact, they might want to stick out a foot and trip you the next time you walk by. And if you’re struggling to get your own career started, this practice will do you no good.
Imagine announcing at a Weight Watchers meeting that you can’t find clothes small enough to fit you. Or that, no matter how much chocolate you eat, you just can’t seem to gain an ounce. Or that your skinny thirteen-year-old daughter keeps borrowing your jeans. Sympathy? You’d be lucky to escape with your life.
The humblebragging at the women’s social group reached its pinnacle in one perfect, ridiculous example. The city’s exclusive residential area, Old Fig Garden, featured a shaded boulevard and grand old homes with beautiful, mature trees. When tree rats invaded a few attics, the neighborhood fire station stocked special bait boxes for the nearby residents. The problem was unique to Old Fig, and the local newspaper encouraged residents to pick up their bait boxes.
At one ladies’ group meeting, amidst the tea-sipping and complaints about Mercedes upkeep and inadequate fur storage, one woman rose above the chatter with a loud whine, “Oh dear, it’s late. I have to go by the fire station to get my rat poison.”
In other words, Oh yeah? Well I live in Old Fig Garden and you don’t.
Rat poison. Now that’s some Major League humblebragging!
