Before my bootcamp friends and I started working out this morning, Paul Lacoste told a funny story about his young son asking a lady in the next bathroom stall, “What’s your name?” He then led from that into the question, “What’s your name?”
I thought about that question the whole time I worked out this morning (well, I thought about dying a couple of times, too).
What do people think when they see or hear your name?
I have a unique experience with that question. For over 30 years, I have been signing my name to my artwork. If you see “Marshall Ramsey” you have an idea what it stands for. You’ve probably seen my cartoons, read my books, heard me speak or read my writing. I hope you think “funny, positive, hopeful, inspiring, fitness.” But I know some of you think, “Jackass.” (You can’t make everyone happy.) It’s basic self-branding 101, something everyone should be interested in in this age of social media. Your name has to mean something — good, hopefully — to people.
I cringe when I see people try to craft a self-brand that is opposite who they really are because I know it won’t end well. In fact, it usually explodes in some spectacular Death Star catching a missile in the exhaust port-like fashion. Ask Tiger Woods or Lance Armstrong what happens when you base your brand on a lie. Bill Cosby’s brand as a loving TV father is definitely under threat with each new allegation. No, don’t try to be something you aren’t. For me, what you see is what you get. I’m cynical but hopeful. Grumpy but happy. Energetic but tired. I am funny but serious. And I try to be a decent dad and husband. That’s what I am. That’s where I’m coming from. Because it’s easier that way. Lying takes energy I just don’t have. I’ve tried it. I suck at it.
What’s your name?
Marshall and Ramsey are the surnames of two complex but good families. And I’m going to spend the month of December looking at who I am, what I truly stand for and how I