The cult of the success story is an attractive one. You enter a room, and people notice. 9 AM coffee materialises. You’ll forget car doors also open from the inside. The position you hold determines how many will see you. How they will treat you.

You are society’s blue blood –  a sun for the masses to orbit. But this group that exists to revere your existence frankly reveres your Wikipedia Page. Your worth is your net worth. Thye’ll ask you who you are, never who you are.

Once the cameras are turned off and red carpets tucked away, you’re in for a rude awakening, Life goes on – your status does not. And it is only when you hack your way through the economy cabin and shovel luggage into the bowels of an unassuming taxi that you realise the top-shelf whisky was never meant for you. Meanwhile Derek, your heir, has back-ordered 5 bottles with his name and salary engraved on each. According to proverb, a new Derek is born every 15 minutes. Scotch and severance pay.

Everyone from senior management to spoilt grandchild should be duly warned. Dear executive, know that permanency is an illusion, albeit a stubborn one, and that to deny your hubris today will save your honour tomorrow. Once the spotlight moves – and it will – you’ll want it back. Now the only giany beam left in your life will be from a set of veneers you got back when the papparazi actually gave a toss. 

There is life beyond centre stage. Appreciate your time in it’s glow, but don’t let it consume you. It’s necessary to maintain a sense of balance and sometimes the best way to do so is to have your feet planted firmly to ground.

Here’s what they don’t mention at the cult of the success story: Our world churns on, your edible gold-leaf does not.