The last time I spoke on stage…

I came across an old video of myself speaking on stage at a real estate summit in Denver.

Back then, "success" felt like rooms packed with people, a spotlight, and a sense that I was in the right place at the right time. It was 2018, the height of social media’s marketing gold rush (remember this?), and I was riding that wave with everything I had.

In those days, the formula seemed clear: get into the right rooms, say the right things, and align with the right people. I found myself becoming a “micro-celebrity” of sorts—showing up, shaking hands, making connections. The version of me on stage looked the part, sounded the part—and, for a while, I convinced myself that was enough.

Yet behind all that, a different story was quietly unfolding. I was in over my head, saying yes when I should have been steadying my feet. I’d bought into the idea that success was something to project outward, rather than something to build from within. And the truth? I was overselling and under-delivering, filling a role I thought everyone else wanted me to play.

Looking back now, I see I was doing the best I knew how.

For a while, the performance held. But as anyone who’s done this long enough can tell you, when there’s nothing real to stand on, the applause fades quickly. It was a series of overpromises, overcommitments, misunderstandings, and, finally, an honest look in the mirror that made me realize: I was selling something I hadn’t yet earned.

These days, I’m not really interested in the stage. I’m more interested in what happens behind the scenes, when the lights go down. The kind of success I’m drawn to now is quieter, slower, built on excellent work and earned trust. I’d rather serve a few people deeply than impress a thousand from a distance.

Maybe there’s someone reading this who’s standing on their own version of that stage. If that’s the case, here’s what I’d say: take a breath. Look at why you’re there. The right people will meet you as you are, without the need for a role or a performance. And in the end, they’re the only ones who matter.

Cheers for now,
Cam