In a previous post, I mused about how it seems to be the anonymous people who do much of the actual, meticulous (even autistic) work of creating something great–be it a beautiful couture dress or identifying an Antifa thug.

I got to thinking (quelle surprise!) more about what it means to do anonymous work.

There’s the trope of the writer or musician* who toils for years in obscurity before sudden, “overnight” success. That trope holds true–I can think of a few bloggers and musicians off the top of my head who have talked about it.

The only way those people have any hope of being successful once they break through into the public consciousness is by having a huge body of work standing behind them. They’ve refined their style, their ideas, and have a huge track record to establish credibility and trust. That’s an immense amount of work.

And it was all done when they were anonymous.

But thinking about it, the levels of anon-ness ratchet up (or down, I guess, depending on your scale) at each step of the way.

For instance, I’ve been working on a project at work. I’m at basic-tier anon status at work–indispensable to my one little area but virtually unknown to everybody else. And honestly, if I got hit by a bus on my commute tomorrow, they could find some other anon to do the work after me.

This project was started by other anons who were looking for a way to make a seasonal project slightly easier (a downgrade from “you’re going through hell but good luck with that” to “this is the worst thing I’ve ever done”). Myself and my co-anon worked with a process improvement guy to ~get this project off the ground~ with the blessing of a mid-tier Known Person.

(Say “anon” one more time.)

After weeks of toiling in obscurity, today was the day to present our findings to our Known Person. This person tasked us with presenting with her boss and big boss, which will mean that my team becomes less anonymous.

Then we might go on a roadshow around our organization…becoming even less anonymous.

Our resident career advisor thinks we may be able to leverage this into a consultant-type gig. We would become ever so slightly less anon with every project that we theoretically helped with.

Maybe we write a book. Maybe we growth-hack our way onto fake news. Maybe then we become keynote speakers at corporate events.

Maybe someday we will be a Known Entity (even in just a small circle).

And then we will be an overnight sensation.

Woohoo!

 

*I’m specifically referring to Travie McCoy’s rap bit in Cobra Starship’s “Kiss My Sass” (Yeah, took a little time but I’m finally here / Ten years deep just to make things clear). I forgot how much I appreciate that album–it’s really good to put on when you need to plunge through a bunch of work that makes you cringe. Listen to “Prostitution is the World’s Oldest Profession (And I, Dear Madame, am a Professional)” and you’ll know what I’m saying.