At the funeral, my brother-in-law mentioned the concept of an other-imposed self-fulfilling prophecy. And suddenly, it all clicked.

When we first moved to California, I was stuck in a sales job I loathed. If you’ve never spent 70% of your time cold-calling, let me spare you the experience—it’s miserable. At least, it was for me.

One day, I decided I was done. Our tiny two-bedroom apartment in San Ramon wasn’t cheap, and Ryan was still getting his footing in the Northern California sales territory. But he saw my daily misery and supported my decision to walk away, even though I had no clear plan for what was next.

After weeks of searching and coming up empty, I stumbled across a job posting for a Front Desk Associate at a private health and wellness club. At the time, I was studying to become a personal trainer—just for fun—so I figured working at the club would give me a firsthand look at the industry. Plus, it came with a free membership, which was a luxury we couldn’t afford otherwise.

I took the job, earning around $6 and some change per hour. Yes, actually. In San Ramon, California around 2007.

My days were spent greeting members, securing reservations, answering an endless stream of questions, and roaming the club. The pay was dismal. But I loved it. The people, the atmosphere, the energy—it all felt right.

After a while, the club’s General Manager asked if I wanted to take over the café and become the new Café Manager. By then, I had earned another dollar-ish per hour.

The position wasn’t prestigious. The pay was laughable. But I took it.

Shortly after, Bob and Judy came to visit.

I’ll never forget their faces when they walked into the club. Judy’s eyes were wide with admiration. Bob had that signature twinkle in his eye, the one that made you feel like you were on the cusp of something extraordinary.

He kept telling me how impressive the club was. How incredible it was that I was managing the café.

Meanwhile, I was sinking into my thoughts: If they only knew how unglamorous this really is. How little I actually make. How much of a non-big-deal this all is…

Other Imposed Self Fulfilling Prophecy

At the funeral this past Saturday, as John spoke about his realization that Bob had this gift—this way of seeing people as more than they saw themselves—I had so many aha moments.

I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

To clarify, an other-imposed self-fulfilling prophecy happens when someone else’s belief about you shapes your own reality. If they see you as exceptional, you start to rise to that expectation—whether you believe it at first or not.

For years, starting with the questions I asked Bob fresh out of college, I wondered why he put everyone on a pedestal.

Why did every story he told about someone he knew, mentored, or worked with paint them as the very best?

How was it that, in his world, everyone was “just outstanding”?

(Exception to the rule: If someone thought they were better than others but hadn’t truly earned it, Bob would say, “Landed on third and thought they hit a home run.”)

The truth is, they weren’t. I certainly wasn’t.

But Bob believed we were.

And because he believed it, we started to believe it too.

And that changed everything.

What if We All Did This?

Bob had a way of making people feel seen—not just for who they were, but for who they could be. And in doing so, he changed them.

To this day, I truly believe my potential knows no limits.

So I can’t help but wonder: What if we all did this?

What if, instead of focusing on limitations, we chose to see potential?

What if we lifted others up—not with empty flattery, but with genuine belief in their ability to rise?

Would more people step into roles they never thought they could fill?

Would more of us take bold chances, believing—maybe for the first time—that we belong?

I think Bob knew the answer.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time we started believing it too.

Join the magic and chaos.

Xox,

SKH