That Time I was Pam from “The Office”

A few Saturdays ago, I took part in my first book fest at the Jacksonville Library. Dozens of unknown authors like me paid a fee to reserve a table to present our books. A couple hundred people showed up to the event, and most were there to see the keynote speaker R.L. Stine. So it was a lot of kids who wouldn’t get my book’s jokes about Kirk Cameron. There’s nothing like watching a kid flip through your book looking for pictures, only to be disappointed and look at you like you’ve just murdered Santa.

I went not knowing what to expect. I actually learned a lot from other authors, but it wasn’t fun. I didn’t sign up for the book fest because I thought it was going to be like America’s Got Talent. It ended up being what I expected it to be, and the reason I did it was primarily because I thought, “This is the stuff you have to try. And now I can tell people to shove it when they give me their unproven advice about how to be successful.” It’s nice to have that in my arsenal of comebacks.

I didn’t expect to sell a ton of books. My wife Brittany said, “Don’t be upset if you don’t sell books. These aren’t exactly people who love paying for things. I mean, we’re at a library.” As someone who frequents the library, I was offended, but she was right. I was trying to have optimistic faith, so I brought about 50 books. I sold and gave away about eight copies total. I can’t fully describe the feeling of sitting at a table with a stack of your own books wondering why you wasted a Saturday of your short life.

There’s an episode of The Office where the insecure receptionist, Pam, finally works up enough guts to display her art at an art show. She invites her entire office and only one or two coworkers show up unenthusiastically. That episode was running through my head the entire day as I talked to strangers, and while I wiped crumbs off of my table from the people who didn’t know how to eat with their mouth closed. Jacksonville’s finest.

I had told friends about the event, but I would say, “It’s really not a big deal. I’m kind of dreading it. Don’t worry about coming.” Honestly, I wasn’t expecting people to show up, though I had definitely promoted it more than once on my social media accounts. No one came. I reminded myself that people are busy and that I’d really downplayed the importance of this event, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care at all about it.

The organizers said we weren’t supposed to breakdown our booths until 3:00 p.m., but by 1:30 I was burnt out. I told Brittany, “Let’s just see if we can sneak out without anyone noticing. That should be easy because we’ve been here all day without anyone noticing.” I’d started to box up all of my unsold books when all of a sudden I saw two familiar faces walking up and smiling. It was our good friends Jonathan and Miranda Balcar. They said, “Hey, did we miss it? This is so cool!” Miranda had even brought two copies of my books to get signed for her mom. It was again like when Michael Scott showed up while Pam was taking down her art. I honestly felt like crying, but I was too dehydrated to produce any tears, so that was nice. Such an unexpected gesture, by two friends who probably didn’t even think they were doing anything great, meant so much to Pam . . . I mean me.

One of the dumbest things we do as a society is wait until people are dead before we tell them what they mean to us. Eulogies at funerals are a nice way to honor someone, but they are sadly the first time many people say what they truly feel about someone, and the person isn’t even there to hear it. What a waste.

It is so easy to bring someone down, especially online. It takes very little effort to be a critic. It’s the reason it only takes one person to swing a wrecking ball, but it takes tons of people to build a home. Demolition is easy; building up is hard. We have opportunities every day to make a lasting impact on someone, yet we’d rather wait until they die to say what we think about them. That’s stupid.

I could sit down and think negatively about all of my friends who didn’t attend the book fest, but they could easily turn around and name times I’ve not gone out of my way for them. We can’t have false expectations on people to be superheroes. Instead, I choose to remember this experience as a time when I had two amazing friends show up when no one needed to. I had two friends who went out of their way to be an encouragement.

Have you been hurt by someone? I’m sure you have. But what good is it doing you to sit on that hurt? Stop looking for what you don’t have and start taking stock in what you do have. What friends have stood the test of time in your life? Who has been closer than a brother? Who has valued you? Elevate those friends instead of demonizing others. Elevate others instead of holding grudges toward those who didn’t meet your expectations, especially expectations they weren’t even aware of.

Demolition is easy. Building up is hard. Take time to be an encouragement. We all need it, even if we don’t say it.