Status is an Overrated Game

I’m in week 3 of Write of Passage. It’s been tremendous as I’ve had dozens of people to read through and give me feedback on my essay and connect with interesting people. Writing online has been a blast and I can’t wait to see what else I learn!

Walkie-Talkie Freedom

Every summer, I would volunteer at a summer camp, escaping the constant buzz of the real world. Out in the woods with no cell service, hundreds of kids, and dozens of counselors, this campground became a transient commune for a few days every year.

At the beginning of every camp, the coveted ritual unfolded - the assigning of walkie-talkies. There were a limited number every year and only the head honchos were given one. These were functional decisions, based on the logistical needs of the camp, but this functional need quickly became a status symbol.

When greeted by the cacophony of counselors and kids, you were always sized up to see if you had a walkie-talkie. Many interactions started with,

“do you have a walkie?”

“ah man, no, not this year.”

“Man, that sucks - Maybe next year!”

The gravity of the walkie-talkie mystified me, why were they so valuable? The mystery unfolded itself once I didn’t receive a walkie-talkie.

After being such an integral part of this summer camp, I had failed the mission of obtaining one. Strangely, a sense of euphoric peace washed over me for the first summer in years.

I didn’t mind because a lot of my friends grew up and moved on and suddenly, I was a counselor with people I didn’t really know. The other counselors were fine, but they were often younger than me and my coolness factor was obsolete.

Suddenly I was Neo in the Matrix - I could see the hidden code beyond our world. These walkie-talkies were meaningless until we arrived at the campgrounds. Yet, as people trickled in and settled into their cabins, it slowly began to take on meaning. Society’s normal “status signals” weren’t present anymore - no one brought a supreme shirt to a 3-day sleepaway camp. As responsibilities were given, people tied status with these pieces of plastic.

These status symbols shed a new light. As I walked away from the walkie-talkie handout meeting, I began to see how these plastic boxes filled the void of status in our newly minted world. Soon after, I began seeing the status symbols all around our world.

Burning Money

In 2018, luxury brand Burberry made headlines for burning ~$30 million of clothes, accessories and perfume. People were flabbergasted at the mere idea - How could any business burn ~$30 million of their own product? Surely there must be a better way to get rid of excess inventory.

What people misunderstood was the necessity of Burberry burning their products. It’s a luxury brand, with handbags that regularly go for over $3,000 and a children’s jacket that goes for $1,000. With any luxury good, their value isn’t as a utility, it’s as a status symbol. And when a good becomes a high-status item, you can’t let it fall into just anyone’s hands.

Status is a zero-sum game. Only a handful of people can be at the top of the heap. What makes luxury goods valuable is their scarcity. If everyone could have a Rolex watch or a Ferrari, they would lose their luster. But because we want what other people have, we covet these rare goods.

You can see examples of this everywhere. The most prestigious jobs: doctors, lawyers, and investment bankers, are all given a glorious veil. They're the jobs that parents love to brag about. Unfortunately, they are often hidden behind long hours, abusive work environments, and a continual race to the top.

Sadly, it’s almost impossible to opt out of the status game. We’re constantly playing, whether at church, work, or a Thanksgiving dinner, the context is always shifting whenever we’re around other people.

The problem with prestige is it’s often unfulfilling when you receive it.

We chase after lives we don’t enjoy with time we don’t have to receive approval from people who don’t love us.

The Trip Back Home

Coming back home having never received a walkie-talkie was freeing. Realizing the meaningless pieces of plastic were a snapshot of our everyday lives showed me how attractive and powerful status symbols are.

I can feel myself wanting to attach myself to a high-status symbol. Seeing people put ex-Google or ex-Stanford in their LinkedIn makes me jealous. Yet, I know those are paths that I don’t ultimately want to go down.

Even in writing, I can tell the difference in status. When someone asks me “What do you do for fun?” I hastily fumble out “I write a newsletter” even if it’s more of a blog. Why?

I think of blogging as inherently low status.

I’d love to be a New York Times bestselling author, with all the fame and reputation that comes with it. Yet, day to day, a blogger and an NYT bestselling author do the same thing - write.

The status games we play are just that - games. Whether it’s at a cocktail party, a high school reunion, or a campground in the middle of the woods, we’re all playing. Once I lost, I realized that I shouldn’t prescribe so much value to a piece of plastic.

Thank you to Edgar Baum, Susmeet Jain, Devin Baker, Torin Regier, Erin Rupp, Rick Lewis, Natalie Badalov, Rahul Sanghi, Ann Hagedorn, Morgan Kitzmiller, Anirudh Kannan, Dylan Kurt, and Steven Foster for the feedback and ideas