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| Daniel Bryan put the suit on because we all had to put the suit on Photo Credit: WWE.com |
I work in journalism. I started at the absolute bottom rung of the industry – slogging my way through an $18,000 year a job, covering dozens upon dozens of dreadfully boring school board and town council meetings and writing feature stories about people who grew abnormally big vegetables.
I worked my ass off to get ahead in the industry. I found my niche in business/finance writing. I spent a lot of my free time working to get better. I read every book on economics and finance possible. Whereas my co-workers would take two-hour lunch breaks, I would grind my way into writing longer-term stories I could use as a clip to get a better job. I took a few years in graduate school, sacrificing some dignity (I worked as a receptionist at a nursing school for peanuts) in order to get tuition paid for so I could earn my degree. And in grad school, I busted my ass so I could set the bar as the best student in my program.
I eventually settled as a freelance writer, doing absolutely anything to get income. I spent hours on articles for $25 bucks a pop. I got held up by people who claimed they were paying me and immediately stopped returning e-mails once my work was published.
There was a lot of freedom in being able to pick and choose my work. But along the way, I got married and bought a house. I have adult responsibilities. So I had to take a full-time job.
I finally got a job with the big boys, working for a trade publication. It was incredible getting this job – in the niche I focused on, this place was the absolute best in the world in this field. It was also the first place I ever worked at that paid a respectable sum.
When I was there, though, I quickly learned that my hiring wasn’t too popular with some of the players in the company. A lot of people in this company went to Ivy League or other pedigree schools; I earned both of my degrees from a small, Catholic university in Philadelphia. A lot of my co-workers – especially the decision makers -- were button-up preppies whereas I’m a weirdo who wears band T-shirts, has a Wayne’s World hat as his primary cubicle decoration and performs alternative comedy in his spare time.
However, I won a lot of my peers over. I worked even harder than I had, since I had a tenuous spot I needed to hold on to at all costs necessary. My work was quality and getting better all the time. I also always never stopped being me – I’m a pretty genial, outgoing guy with a quirky sense of humor and I use that in order to help bring a workplace team together.
It came time for my first annual review. It was generally positive and I was rewarded with a standard, if not token, raise. It was highly influenced by the company president – he was a good guy but came from the landed gentry (and was a yachting hobbyist). My work and work ethic were considered stellar. However, I received knocks for appearance – I dressed like a slob and I also had an incredibly messy desk; it was stacked with pages upon pages of printed pages I used for research and writing. I also was never considered for any sort of promotion despite my work.
Like I said earlier – I have adult responsibilities. I wanted – needed – to make more money but, with the journalism industry being what it is, finding a new job paying a similar or better salary was impossible.
So I had to play the game I always hated. I wanted to be judged based on my merits. But I was judged based on my background and appearance, none of which has anything to do with writing about refinery margins or oil pipeline tariffs. So I traded in the Weezer T-Shirt for a Jos. A. Bank sportscoat. I invested in pink dress shirts, the favored color of the boss. I made a big show of cleaning up my desk at the end of the day, timing it when he left and walked past my cubical. Anytime he sat in on a meeting, I cut out being relaxed and genial and instead talked in corporate lingo.
I crushed it at my second review. I received the highest raise possible. I was also told I was being considered for a promotion the next time one opened up. Nothing about my work quality changed (aside from it getting better due to working hard). But I decided to look and talk the part.
I sold out in my own little way in order to get ahead. I hated being somewhat of a shameless suck-up. But that extra few hundred dollars per paycheck helped pay off some of my mortgage and helped my wife buy a new Kia Soul.
That’s the problem common to those of us who grew up in the American middle-class. We were sold a dream. We were told we could be anything we wanted. We worked hard, played by the rules, went to college, and came out learning that we now had a ton of debt and were attempting to navigate our way through a rocky environment.
Starting a business on our own or hoping our band would take off or someone would like my comedy sketches and the like became more and more financially impossible, especially after we fell in love and wanted to live a little bit more like our parents and Lehman Brothers tanked.
We had to sacrifice our independence in order to work for the man in Corporate America. And when there, we learned how hard it is to rise to the top – the odds are stacked. There are people with MBAs from places like Wharton or law degrees from Cornell who came from wealth. There are executive vice-presidents who hire their children. There are people with similar backgrounds who became sharks and weasels. There are corporate boards stacked with allies of the CEO.
Most of us essentially became random numbers in an HR department who could be sacrificed at anytime a Wall Street analyst decided a mass layoff would boost a stock price. For those of us who have the talents and ambition to rise towards the top, we learn there are a lot of obstacles along the way preventing us from ever getting there.
Especially without sacrificing our identity and dignity.
***
This is why I love Daniel Bryan. His storyline is mine – ours. He’s one of us. He looks like us (albeit a fit, athletic version) and speaks our language. He collects vinyl, was vegan until health issues prevented him from keeping the diet, is by all accounts a good dude and an admitted dork.
We know his story – he started in armories and busted his ass. But Ring of Honor and whatever other indies he scrapped at doesn’t pay the bills, not like a WWE paycheck does. He was sabotaged from the beginning (being fired in the Nexus angle) with rumors around that some in the company didn’t think he stood a chance at stardom.
He proved everyone wrong.
And now he has odds stacked against him. The ultimate corporate snake, Triple H, and his gifted wife, and his all-powerful father-in-law don’t think he fits the part. Randy Orton – a second generation superstar who, as JBL puts it, would be what a professional wrestler looks like if you started from scratch – does. He’s the landed gentry, just as they are. And he’s protected by mindless goons like The Shield (who, like all corporate drones, believe they’re doing the right thing).
Daniel Bryan, once again, will prove them wrong. He’s going to do with by keeping his beard and sense of humor and chanting “Yes” and being himself. Wrestling is America’s greatest form of storytelling for the common man. It’s a fantasy world where Bryan can actually overcome these odds stacked against him.
And when he does, I’ll feel like I get to win, too. After all, he’s one of us.
We know his story – he started in armories and busted his ass. But Ring of Honor and whatever other indies he scrapped at doesn’t pay the bills, not like a WWE paycheck does. He was sabotaged from the beginning (being fired in the Nexus angle) with rumors around that some in the company didn’t think he stood a chance at stardom.
He proved everyone wrong.
And now he has odds stacked against him. The ultimate corporate snake, Triple H, and his gifted wife, and his all-powerful father-in-law don’t think he fits the part. Randy Orton – a second generation superstar who, as JBL puts it, would be what a professional wrestler looks like if you started from scratch – does. He’s the landed gentry, just as they are. And he’s protected by mindless goons like The Shield (who, like all corporate drones, believe they’re doing the right thing).
Daniel Bryan, once again, will prove them wrong. He’s going to do with by keeping his beard and sense of humor and chanting “Yes” and being himself. Wrestling is America’s greatest form of storytelling for the common man. It’s a fantasy world where Bryan can actually overcome these odds stacked against him.
And when he does, I’ll feel like I get to win, too. After all, he’s one of us.