The Day My Ego Was Out of Control

My ego has taken many forms over the years. Currently it is a design ego.  But it wasn’t always a design ego.  My first experience with my ego, and the tragedy it sometimes takes to rein it in, was my senior year of my undergraduate degree.  At the time I had no idea my career would lead me to the field of graphic design, and my ego had taken a different form as a production ego.  I was in Cortland, New York, and I was on top of my game as the President of the campus television station.  We were called in to film and broadcast the debates for the City of Cortland Mayoral race of 2000. 
I was organized and efficient, I was so sure that this was going to be the best production of my life.  My production ego was huge.  We were going to broadcast live over the campus (we didn’t have the capabilities to broadcast off campus) and then send the recording to the local station in town to broadcast the debates for the town to watch.

Everything was perfect.  I had lapel microphones on each candidate, we had carried the massive studio cameras from the station to the venue, and we put up lighting to ensure we had a great picture.  I tested and re-tested the live connection.  We created graphics to introduce the debates.  We were ready.

I only had two volunteers with me to run the production and they manned the cameras while I was directing.  My advisor was there proudly looking on as his prodigy of a student was making the campus station look really good.   With 5 minutes left in the debates, my ego was soaring.  I was the best and I always would be.  It was then that I happened to look down at the recording device and noticed that there was no tiny little red light.  My heart leaped into my throat.  My first thought was that the device had malfunctioned.  So I tested it.  I hit the record button, and that little unassuming red light came on so quickly that I thought it was taunting me.  I lost my breath.  I cursed.  Both camera operators glued their eyes on me asking what was happening.  I was so organized, so precise with all of my actions that day, how could I have possibly missed such a simple task?  No, my ego thought.  I couldn’t have forgotten to press the record button.  That would be impossible.   But as the debate ended my ego had run away to hide.  It was the only possible explanation.  I had forgotten to press the record button. 

Everyone tried to cajole me saying it was an easy mistake to make.  But, I was inconsolable. I was heartbroken.  My production of a lifetime was lost.  No-one had recorded it.  I hadn’t thought to run a secondary recorder from the studio.  The debate was a one-time only affair that would never be seen again. 

I slowly recovered from my mistake, swearing to never overlook the smallest details and always have a backup plan.  But, my mistake couldn’t be forgotten.  It turned out that the losing candidate would cite the fact that because of my recording miss-hap no-one in the town was able to view what he thought was a landslide win in the debate, he had lost the election.  He threatened to sue the school.  Luckily his threats were hollow, but the damage to my ego was almost irreparable.  My production ego went into hiding, and my design ego eventually found its way into my life. 

I still think about that time with mixed feelings.  On the one hand my ego was essential to spur me into attempting to put that production together.  If I hadn’t thought so much of myself, I wouldn’t have tried to produce the broadcast.  On the other hand my ego was so big it overshadowed the smallest details causing a misunderstanding that would haunt me for years to come.

The lesson I learned that day: an ego is essential to a creative minds attempt at greatness, but must be kept to a working level in order to be successful.