Lately, I’ve been thinking about the way some people wait—not to cheer for you, but to see if you’ll stumble. They don’t offer support, just quiet observation, as if your failure would validate something for them. It reminded me of a moment from my past, a seemingly small conversation that, in hindsight, said so much more.
I once had a personal assistant, and on a routine trip to a department store, I picked up a few items. As I browsed, I changed my mind about one of them and placed it on a shelf across the store. My assistant looked at me, disapproving. “That’s rude,” she said. “The workers here are already overworked. You should put it back where you found it.”
Her comment caught me off guard. I told her, “I used to work in a library. Every morning, I collected misplaced periodicals and returned them where they belonged. It was just part of my job. I never thought of people as being rude for leaving them in the wrong place—it was just the nature of the work.”
She scoffed.
The conversation faded, and we continued with our shopping. But as we pulled out of the parking lot, a car flagged us down. A woman ran up, shouting. “Someone hit your car! She drove off, but we got the license plate.”
Without hesitation, my assistant turned to me and said, “That’s your bad karma.”
At the time, I laughed it off. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say. But now, looking back, I realize it was something more. It was a glimpse into a certain kind of mindset—the kind that waits for missteps, for proof that their view of you is justified.
I’ve met a lot of people like that since then. People who don’t support me, but they watch me. Not out of admiration, but out of anticipation. My success doesn’t inspire them—it challenges something in them. My failure would be a quiet confirmation of what they already believe.
I’ve learned something valuable: I don’t need those people in my life. I don’t need to prove anything to them, and I certainly don’t need to carry their projections. Because at the end of the day, their validation—good or bad—was never mine to begin with.
But life is fleeting. None of us will be here forever. And when it’s all said and done, wouldn’t it be better to have spent our time lifting each other up rather than waiting for someone to fall?
So to the quiet watchers—what if, instead of hoping for failure, you opened yourself to inspiration? What if someone else’s success wasn’t a threat, but a sign that greatness is possible for you, too?
And to those being watched—live boldly. Keep creating, keep pushing, and keep going, no matter who’s waiting for you to stumble. Because their doubt is not your burden to carry, and their approval was never the goal.
Life is too short to be a spectator in someone else’s story. Be present, be engaged, and most of all, be the kind of person who celebrates success—your own and others’. Because in the end, that’s what truly lasts.
