The Trophy That Never Came (Until It Did, Briefly)

For years, essentially starting from elementary school, I watched others walk across stages, their names echoing through auditoriums, hands outstretched to receive gleaming trophies and certificates. In undergrad, and then in various workplaces, that familiar pang of jealousy would strike. It wasn't that I craved the spotlight, but rather, I couldn't reconcile the disconnect between effort and recognition. I knew, deep down, that I was often putting in far more work than many of my peers, yet the accolades seemed to consistently bypass me.

This wasn't a motivator. It didn't inspire me to "try harder". Instead, it fostered a quiet acceptance. I learned to be a strong academic, a reliable colleague, and a leader without the expectation of external validation. The "trophy" became an irrelevant concept. I focused on the intrinsic rewards: the satisfaction of solving a complex problem, the joy of a well-executed project, and the respect of those I worked alongside.

Then, something unexpected happened. At the recent UWF Honor Convocation, that I had never bothered attending because I had never won an 'honor', I received two awards. One for being the overall outstanding graduate assistant for the College of Business and one, rolled over from my undergrad, for being the outstanding management studies student. Receiving these awards was a pleasant surprise and a moment of recognition that felt (frankly) surreal.

So while I appreciated this gesture, it didn't fundamentally alter my perspective. It reinforced the model I had been forced to adapt to: getting gratification from internal motivations and reveling in the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

The applause of strangers, the scripted description of what I'm gong to do with the rest of my life, the fleeting moment in the spotlight - these things are, obviously, ephemeral. On purpose, I had crafted my introduction to be a bit pretentious, a precise jab at the performative nature of events like this. I outlined my ambitions to teach MIS and expand my vintage shop, but as a statement - not a plea for validation.

At the end of the day, what truly matters is the respect of my colleagues and their genuine appreciation for my contributions to our field. That's the currency I value in academia. The awards were a nice footnote on my legacy at UWF, a brief acknowledgement, but they won't change my core beliefs about rewards.

I'm sure this experience resonates with others who have felt overlooked, who have had to find their strength in the quiet work and other unseen contributions. I don't need a trophy to validate my worth. And thanks to these two awards and an unbelievable streak of luck throughout 2024 and 2025, I now have a box in my apartment filled with paper certificates that I will, likely, never frame. Given that my diploma isn't even framed.

My philosophy is that our worth is measured in the impact we make, the integrity we uphold, and the passion we bring to our endeavors. At least, that's what I'm trying to do with my career.