It almost doesn’t seem possible.
On September 11, 2001, I woke up early, got ready for the day and headed out to meet a client.
It was an ordinary morning.
Until it wasn’t.
Within hours, the entire world had changed.
Planes crashed into the World Trade Center.
Another struck the Pentagon.
And United Flight 93 came down in a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Thousands of lives were lost.
Families were changed forever.
And millions of us watched something unfold that we knew, even in that moment, we would remember for the rest of our lives.
We remember where we were.
We remember who we were with.
We remember watching the television in disbelief.
We remember the confusion.
The fear.
The anger.
The sadness.
And we remember what happened afterward.
People came together.
Strangers helped strangers.
First responders ran toward unimaginable danger while everyone else was trying to escape it.
American flags seemed to be everywhere.
For a little while, our differences didn’t seem quite as important.
We were simply Americans.
In 2017, I wrote an article titled Share The Story…We Will Never Forget.
At the time, September 11th was only sixteen years behind us.
I ended that article with a warning:
Don’t let 9/11 become a distant memory.
I wrote that a generation was coming that would never have experienced that fateful moment and that it was our responsibility to share the story with them.
Nine years have passed since I wrote those words.
And twenty-five years have now passed since 9/11.
That generation isn’t coming anymore.
They’re already here.
There are adults today who weren’t alive on September 11, 2001.
There are parents raising children who have no personal memory of that day.
To them, 9/11 isn’t a memory.
It’s history.
Something they learned about in school.
Something they’ve seen in documentaries.
Something they’ve watched in old news footage.
And that’s precisely why those of us who remember it have an obligation to keep telling the story.
A history book can tell you what happened.
It can tell you the names of the buildings.
The flight numbers.
The timeline.
The number of lives lost.
But history can’t completely explain what it felt like to live through that day.
That’s where we come in.
We can tell our children and grandchildren where we were when we first heard.
We can tell them about the phone calls we made.
The people we worried about.
The silence that followed.
The skies without airplanes.
The photographs taped to walls as families desperately searched for loved ones.
The firefighters, police officers, paramedics and ordinary citizens who demonstrated extraordinary courage.
We can tell them about the people aboard Flight 93 who fought back.
We can tell them about the days and weeks afterward when a wounded country came together.
Those aren’t simply historical facts.
Those are human stories.
And stories are how memories survive generations.
Every September 11th, we see the words:
Never Forget.
But remembering isn’t passive.
If we truly mean never forget, then we have to do something with those memories.
We have to share them.
Tell your children.
Tell your grandchildren.
Tell them where you were.
Tell them what you saw.
Tell them how you felt.
Tell them about the people who never came home.
Tell them about the heroes who ran toward danger.
Tell them why, twenty-five years later, you still stop when you see the images.
Because eventually there will be fewer of us who remember September 11th firsthand.
Another twenty-five years will pass.
Then another.
And someday, nobody alive will be able to say:
“I remember that day.”
But the stories can remain.
That’s how legacy works.
We tell the stories entrusted to us so the next generation can carry them forward.
In 2017, I asked people not to allow September 11th to become a distant memory.
Nine years later, I’m asking again.
Except now the responsibility feels even greater.
Twenty-five years have passed.
The world has changed.
A new generation has arrived.
Share the story.
Share what you remember.
Share what happened.
Share why it matters.
So that twenty-five, fifty or one hundred years from now, someone who wasn’t there will still understand.
We said we would never forget.
Let’s make sure they don’t either.
— Rob Anspach
The post 25 Years Later…We Still Must Share The Story first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>I’ve known Pauline Longdon for years.
I’ve interviewed her before. She wrote the foreword to my book Wait, There’s More. We’ve talked marketing, copywriting, ethics, business and life. And earlier this year, Pauline, her partner Ray, my wife Kim and I spent time together at Disney World.
So when Pauline returned to E-Heroes for episode 413, I knew we weren’t going to have one of those neatly packaged, surface-level conversations.
And we didn’t.
We talked about bro marketing. Dude copy. Writing to women. AI. Human experience. Keeping your skills sharp. And why the future of marketing might depend less on becoming better at technology and more on remembering how to be human.
One of the first things we discussed was the current obsession with the phrase “bro marketing.”
Pauline pointed out that while the label may be getting more attention, the behavior has been around forever.
Challenge people.
Push them.
Shame them.
Make them feel inadequate.
Then conveniently offer them the solution.
Pauline described bro marketing as bullying and shame-based marketing—the kind of approach designed to make someone feel bad enough about themselves that they buy.
I remember experiencing it decades ago when a life insurance salesman came to our house and attempted to shame me into buying a policy.
My response?
Get the hell out.
That approach may have worked better in the ’80s and ’90s, but consumers have changed. They’ve seen the tricks. They know they’re being sold to.
And as Pauline reminded me, ethical marketers don’t need those tactics.
There’s more than one way to make a sale.
This was one of my favorite distinctions from our conversation.
Pauline separates bro copy from dude copy.
Bro copy is intentionally aggressive. It challenges, shames, bullies and sometimes fabricates stories to manipulate the buyer.
Dude copy is more subtle.
It’s what happens when a man writes through his own biases and assumes the audience—particularly a female audience—thinks and communicates the same way he does.
Sometimes it works.
But Pauline explained that women will often mentally compensate when a man speaks to them in a male voice. The problem becomes much more noticeable when a female spokesperson or business owner is supposedly speaking to women using language that doesn’t sound natural coming from another woman. Something simply feels off.
That matters.
Because copy isn’t simply about using the technically correct words.
It’s about understanding the person reading those words.
Pauline offered a wonderfully simple test she gives junior copywriters.
If you’re writing to women, think about the women in your own life—your wife, girlfriend, mother, sister, aunt or grandmother.
Then look at what you’ve written and ask:
Would I actually say this to her?
If the answer is no, why the hell is it on the page?
That’s such a simple filter, but it’s powerful.
Marketing sometimes becomes so obsessed with formulas, specificity, conversion rates, psychological triggers and clever headlines that we forget there’s another human being on the receiving end.
You’re not marketing to a demographic.
You’re communicating with a person.
We talked about beauty marketing as an obvious example.
A woman doesn’t need an advertisement reminding her of every perceived flaw and then pouring salt into the wound.
She already knows.
Pauline’s point was that instead of telling someone how terrible their crow’s feet are, acknowledge reality and move toward the solution.
That’s a completely different emotional experience.
It doesn’t mean ignoring someone’s problem.
It means respecting them while helping solve it.
That’s the distinction too many marketers miss.
Pain can help someone recognize a problem.
Humiliation isn’t necessary.
Eventually our conversation moved toward AI.
And Pauline isn’t anti-AI.
Neither am I.
She was actually an early adopter because she understood that AI wasn’t disappearing. As a mentor, she also knew she couldn’t help copywriters navigate the technology if her answer to every AI question was, “I don’t know.”
At one point, she created AI tools for a beauty brand that could get copy roughly 80% of the way there. Then human copywriters stepped in, improved it, and Pauline copy-chiefed the final work.
That’s a very different model from:
Prompt. Copy. Paste. Publish.
The phrase Pauline used that stuck with me was the difference between delegation and abdication.
You can delegate certain tasks to AI.
You shouldn’t abdicate your responsibility to think.
You shouldn’t abdicate your judgment.
And you definitely shouldn’t abdicate your skills.
Because if AI is doing absolutely everything for you, eventually you have to ask:
What exactly are you bringing to the table?
I’ve experienced this myself.
I started writing copy back in 1998. Then over the years I shifted into books, content, strategy and other forms of marketing.
When I returned more heavily to copywriting, I discovered something.
I was rusty.
The knowledge hadn’t disappeared, but I needed to exercise those muscles again.
AI makes it incredibly tempting not to bother.
Why struggle through a first draft when a machine can create one in seconds?
Because you still need enough skill to recognize whether that first draft is any good.
Pauline made the same point: too many people are using AI without first learning their craft. If you don’t know how to write, you can’t effectively judge what AI wrote for you.
The technology doesn’t eliminate the need for expertise.
It makes expertise more valuable.
Then Pauline said what I think was the most important line of our entire conversation:
“Everything that it knows about humanity is information, not experience.”
That’s the human advantage.
AI can process enormous amounts of information about grief.
It hasn’t grieved.
It can analyze millions of words about falling in love.
It hasn’t fallen in love.
It can write about fear, excitement, disappointment, parenthood, failure, success, loss, friendship and joy.
But it hasn’t experienced any of them.
We have.
And that’s where empathy comes from.
That’s where judgment comes from.
That’s where stories come from.
That’s where the soul comes from.
As I told Pauline, I can feed one of my experiences into AI and ask it to create a story. It might produce something that sounds remarkably like me.
But there’s still something missing.
Soul.
Pauline has been writing her Knowledge Nuggets for roughly 12 years without missing a week.
Think about that.
Hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of writing.
Over time, those Knowledge Nuggets became more than marketing content. Pauline described the collection almost as a diary of a copy nerd—the journey of someone who dreamed of becoming an A-list copywriter and then documented what happened along the way.
And that’s created something AI struggles to manufacture from scratch.
A fingerprint.
I can read certain copywriters and recognize who wrote the piece before seeing their name.
That’s what writers should want.
Not generic perfection.
Recognition.
Your stories, experiences, quirks, vocabulary, opinions and perspective should become so embedded in your work that someone can say:
“That’s Pauline.”
Or…
“That’s Rob.”
AI tends to blend voices together. Your job is to make sure yours doesn’t disappear into the mixture.
Our conversation eventually circled back to Disney.
Pauline mentioned something about our time together there that perfectly connected everything we’d been discussing.
You can sit behind a screen and watch Disney videos.
You can study Disney marketing.
You can read about customer experience.
You can ask AI to explain Disney’s approach.
But none of that replaces actually being there.
Pauline talked about how nothing replaces human connection and human experience—and how we’re increasingly discovering the limitations of living behind screens and convincing ourselves that virtual connection is the same as physical connection.
And maybe that’s the bigger lesson.
Technology isn’t going away.
AI isn’t going away.
Automation isn’t going away.
Nor should they.
But the more technology we introduce into our businesses, the more valuable genuinely human experiences become.
The stories you’ve actually lived.
The lessons you’ve actually learned.
The relationships you’ve actually built.
The emotions you’ve actually felt.
The mistakes you’ve actually made.
AI has information.
You have experience.
Don’t surrender that advantage.
Use the tools.
Learn the tools.
Let them make you faster and more capable.
But keep writing.
Keep thinking.
Keep learning.
Keep experiencing.
And above all…
Keep being human.
The post The Human Advantage first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>Most people think the magic of Walt Disney World begins when they walk through the park gates.
I’d argue it starts much earlier.
Sometimes it begins the moment you step onto a Disney bus.
On Episode 407 of the E-Heroes Podcast, I had the opportunity to talk with Ichabod Bones, better known on YouTube as The Incognito Mouse. By night, he’s a Walt Disney World bus driver. By day, he’s a growing Disney YouTuber who gives viewers a perspective they rarely see—the view from inside the Disney experience without revealing the company’s secrets.
There are thousands of Disney content creators covering rides, food, hotels, and attractions.
So why is Ichabod gaining traction?
Because he didn’t try to become another version of the biggest Disney influencers. Instead, he leaned into what made him different.
As a Disney Cast Member, he shares stories about transportation, guest interactions, training, and the everyday moments that most visitors never think about. Rather than chasing sensational headlines, he answers the questions viewers actually ask.
That reminded me of one of the biggest lessons in marketing:
You don’t need to be louder—you need to be different.
Ichabod’s story wasn’t accidental.
He literally moved from New Jersey to Florida because he wanted to drive a bus for Walt Disney World. After visiting on vacation, he realized he’d rather transport guests through Disney than scrape ice off a school bus during northern winters.
That kind of intentional decision says a lot.
For him, driving a Disney bus wasn’t simply employment.
It was the destination.
Interestingly, his YouTube channel didn’t begin as a Disney channel at all.
Years ago he created Christian content, youth ministry videos, and even humorous faith-based song parodies. The channel eventually sat dormant before finding new life when he realized there was an audience hungry for authentic stories from a Cast Member’s point of view.
That’s another entrepreneurial lesson.
Sometimes the platform you’ve already built simply needs a new purpose.
One of my favorite parts of our conversation involved Disney transportation.
I’ve always enjoyed talking with bus drivers because they often become the first and last Cast Members guests interact with each day.
They’re transporting exhausted families…
Excited children…
Couples celebrating anniversaries…
Guests rushing to reservations…
People who’ve just experienced the happiest—or most frustrating—part of their vacation.
Ichabod explained that drivers operate on tightly scheduled routes, but dispatch still allows them to “make magic” whenever possible.
If a family accidentally boards the wrong bus and there’s a reasonable solution, Disney often empowers drivers to help.
That’s customer service.
Not because it’s written in a manual…
But because someone cared enough to create a memorable experience.
One thing I appreciate about Ichabod’s content is his balance.
He understands Disney’s policies.
He respects confidential information.
Yet he still gives viewers valuable insights into training, CDL requirements, transportation procedures, and the realities of working behind the scenes.
That balance builds credibility.
Too many creators think controversy is the fastest path to growth.
Sometimes professionalism is the better strategy.
During our discussion we also talked about why so many people—including myself—return to Disney year after year.
It isn’t always about the newest attraction.
It’s nostalgia.
It’s atmosphere.
It’s storytelling.
It’s details.
It’s watching grandparents become kids again while introducing Disney to another generation.
That’s something many critics miss.
Disney isn’t simply selling rides.
They’re selling experiences.
As our conversation wrapped up, we shifted toward entrepreneurship.
Ichabod edits every video himself—right on his phone.
He posts consistently.
He listens to audience questions.
He’s already thinking about future resort reviews, merchandise, and eventually building a website to own more of his brand.
That’s exactly how businesses grow.
Start with one audience.
Serve them consistently.
Listen to what they ask for.
Then build the next piece.
Success rarely arrives overnight. It evolves one story, one customer, and one piece of content at a time.
What struck me most wasn’t that Ichabod drives a Disney bus.
It was that he understands something many entrepreneurs forget:
People don’t just remember the destination.
They remember how you made them feel getting there.
Whether you’re transporting guests across Walt Disney World, building a YouTube channel, or growing a business, the real magic often happens in the moments between Point A and Point B.
And sometimes, the best stories come from the driver’s seat.
The post Behind the Wheel of the Magic first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>I kept it.
At the time, James probably had no idea how much that simple gesture meant to me. I was still relatively new to publishing. Share was my first book, and having someone like James take the time to read it and offer his support gave me another reason to keep going.
Fast-forward 13 years.
I recently sat down with James for Episode 412 of my E-Heroes Podcast, and I got to show him that note.
A lot has happened between then and now.
One book became another. Then another. Eventually, I created my own publishing company, started publishing books for other entrepreneurs and professionals, and today I’ve been involved in the production of more than 70 books.
As I told James during our conversation, his encouragement was part of that journey.
And that became the perfect starting point for a conversation that really wasn’t about speaking.
It was about stories.
It was about opportunities.
It was about persistence.
And it was about the people who sometimes change the direction of our lives without ever realizing they’ve done it.
Today, people know James as the Big Money Speaker. He’s spoken at thousands of events, coached speakers around the world and appeared on ABC’s Secret Millionaire.
But that’s the fruit.
The roots looked very different.
James grew up in a small steel town outside Pittsburgh. His father was a steelworker. His mother worked at the school. He earned a basketball scholarship, blew out his knee and suddenly had to figure out what came next.
Eventually, he found himself in Los Angeles trying to build a speaking career.
And he was broke.
Really broke.
He worked at a video store for $7 an hour. One Christmas, he asked his parents for a Costco membership because he couldn’t afford the $50 himself. He used it to buy pasta and giant jars of spaghetti sauce, which he diluted with water to make them last longer.
That’s not exactly the glamorous origin story people imagine when they see someone standing on a stage in front of thousands of people.
But James said something during our conversation that stuck with me:
People see your fruits. To understand the journey, they have to hear your roots.
That’s true for almost every entrepreneur I’ve ever met.
Success makes the struggle look inevitable in hindsight.
It wasn’t.
James admitted there were plenty of times he wanted to throw in the towel. I could relate. I’ve been an entrepreneur for more than 30 years, and I’ve certainly had those moments myself.
The difference isn’t that successful people never think about quitting.
They keep finding a reason not to.
One of my favorite parts of the conversation came when we started talking about storytelling.
James compared the stories entrepreneurs tell to hit songs.
Musicians don’t become known because they have hundreds of songs nobody remembers. They have a handful of songs everyone recognizes.
Businesses need the same thing.
James explained that entrepreneurs should have two or three great stories they can consistently pull from their “tool belt.” Those stories become associated with you. They’re repeated. They’re remembered. And eventually other people start telling them for you.
That’s your hit song.
I’ve always believed this.
I brought up my late friend Joe Sugarman. If you ever saw Joe speak, chances are you heard some of the same stories.
James immediately remembered Joe’s Batman credit card story.
Think about that.
Joe is gone. James and I hadn’t discussed that story together in years.
Yet we both remembered it.
That’s the power of a hit song.
You don’t need 500 stories.
You need a few great ones.
And you need to stop worrying that you’ve told them before.
This is where James and I really landed on something entrepreneurs need to understand.
Stories aren’t decoration.
They’re marketing.
James told me that he doesn’t necessarily convert people. His stories do.
A great story allows someone to see themselves in the message without you beating them over the head with a sales pitch.
It’s why movies like Rudy, Rocky and Seabiscuit work.
As James explained, Rudy wasn’t really about football. Rocky wasn’t really about boxing. Seabiscuit wasn’t really about horse racing.
They’re stories about perseverance, underdogs, belief and refusing to quit.
Those are human experiences.
And that’s exactly why entrepreneurs need to tell stories about themselves, their customers, their clients and the people they’ve helped.
Facts inform.
Stories make people care.
James also shared the story behind his appearance on ABC’s Secret Millionaire.
And here’s the funny part:
He almost deleted the opportunity.
Actually, he tried to say no more than once.
His sister, who was also his assistant, received an email from a production company about some sort of documentary project.
James wasn’t interested.
Delete it.
They contacted him again.
Still not interested.
Eventually, James agreed to get on the phone only because they mentioned that a mutual friend had recommended him. He wanted to politely decline rather than potentially disrespect whoever had made the introduction.
Then the person on the other end revealed the truth.
They weren’t simply some little production company.
They were working with ABC.
And the project was Secret Millionaire.
The premise dropped James into an impoverished community without his normal resources. He had $44.66 to live on for the week while volunteering alongside people doing extraordinary work in their community. At the end, he revealed his identity and personally gave more than $100,000 to help them.
One of the biggest opportunities of his career began as an email he wanted deleted.
There’s a lesson there.
Not every opportunity deserves a yes.
But sometimes it’s worth listening long enough to understand what you’re actually saying no to.
We eventually turned the conversation toward James’ Big Money Speaker philosophy.
He described speaking as having two sides of a coin.
On one side is the message.
Your expertise.
Your desire to help people.
Your ability to change lives.
That’s wonderful.
But there’s another side.
The business.
How do you get booked?
Who controls the budget?
How do you create an offer?
How do you market yourself?
How do you get paid?
James made the point that this isn’t unique to speakers. You can be the greatest dentist, chiropractor, consultant, coach or professional in the world, but if you can’t attract customers, you’re going to struggle.
James went from making $7 an hour at the video store to roughly $40,000 speaking the following year. Then came $100,000. Then a quarter-million.
What changed?
He learned the business of speaking.
Talent matters.
Helping people matters.
Being great at what you do matters.
But you still have to learn how to turn that expertise into a business.
I’ve been preaching a version of that lesson for decades.
Being great at what you do isn’t enough if nobody knows you’re great at it.
Toward the end of our conversation, James shared another story involving his friend, former NFL quarterback Joe Theismann.
James had been encouraging Joe for years to put his stories into a book.
Why?
Because the speaking engagement eventually ends.
The audience goes home.
Memories fade.
But the stories can remain.
James finally told him:
“Your book is your legacy.”
He offered to bring Joe to Las Vegas, record conversations about his stories and beliefs, have them turned into a book and preserve them for his grandchildren.
Joe’s response?
How’s next Wednesday?
The book eventually sold more than 100,000 copies to companies, according to James.
But that wasn’t the real reason for doing it.
It was for the grandkids.
It was about legacy.
That part obviously resonated with me.
I’ve been saying for years that everybody has a story.
You might not believe yours matters.
Someone else might desperately need to hear it.
And sometimes all it takes is one person telling you that your story is worth sharing.
Which brings me back to that note from 13 years ago.
James didn’t have to endorse Share.
He didn’t owe me anything.
He could have ignored the request.
Instead, he took a few moments and encouraged someone who was writing his first book.
That someone kept writing.
One book became more than 70.
And 13 years later, I got to sit across from James and tell him what that small gesture helped create.
That’s impact.
We spend a lot of time measuring business through revenue, followers, likes, leads, conversions and all the other numbers we’re told matter.
Sometimes the biggest impact you make can’t be measured that way.
Sometimes it’s an email.
A testimonial.
An introduction.
A few encouraging words.
A willingness to give somebody a chance.
James said during our conversation that you never know who that one person is going to be, which is precisely why you have to share your information and your story instead of keeping it inside you.
Thirteen years ago, James Malinchak was one of those people for me.
Today, I finally got the chance to tell him.
And that’s one hell of a full-circle story.
The post Your Story Is Your Hit Song: Lessons From My Conversation With James Malinchak first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>Most people assume it’s the moment someone quit their job, landed their first client, or launched a business. But more often than not, the real beginning starts with pain.
During my conversation with Cierra Lueck on E-Heroes, we didn’t jump straight into marketing strategies or social media tactics. Instead, we found ourselves talking about family, health, loss, and the moments that permanently change us. Those experiences shaped how we both serve others today.
Entrepreneurs don’t just build businesses—they build them on top of life experiences.
I shared the story of my daughter.
At ten years old, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. Years later, the disease damaged her kidneys, leading to dialysis, the heartbreaking loss of a premature child, and eventually a life-saving kidney and pancreas transplant.
Today she’s healthy. She’s no longer diabetic. She now spends her time helping elderly patients in a nursing home.
The journey wasn’t easy. There were moments when it felt impossible to see anything positive.
But looking back, I can see something important.
Pain didn’t define her.
It refined her.
Cierra shared a remarkably similar story. Her young son suffered severe burns after experiencing a seizure caused by an undiagnosed brain tumor. Multiple surgeries, rehabilitation, depression, and unimaginable emotional challenges followed.
Instead of allowing those circumstances to stop her, they became the catalyst for building her business.
Sometimes our greatest business ideas aren’t born in boardrooms.
They’re born in hospital waiting rooms.
One point Cierra made really stuck with me.
She said many experts remain invisible—not because they lack expertise—but because the people who desperately need them don’t even know they exist.
Her family didn’t know hand therapists existed.
They didn’t know specialized surgeons existed.
By the time they discovered them, valuable time had already been lost.
The same thing happens every day in business.
You may be exactly the solution someone needs.
But if your message isn’t reaching them in language they understand, they’ll never know you’re there.
That’s not a marketing problem.
That’s a communication problem.
One of the best analogies from our conversation involved running a race.
Experts often communicate from the finish line because they’ve solved the problem years ago.
Their audience is still standing at the starting line.
If you’ve already climbed the mountain, it’s easy to forget what the first step looked like.
Instead of explaining how far you’ve come, remember what confused you when you first started.
Speak to that version of yourself.
That’s the language your audience understands.
For years I worried about saying the wrong thing online.
I tried to play it safe.
Eventually I realized something.
People weren’t connecting with the polished version of me.
They connected with the sarcastic, straightforward, authentic Rob.
That’s when everything changed.
Your audience isn’t looking for another perfectly polished influencer.
They’re looking for someone real.
Someone who has actually lived through something.
Someone who understands.
I’ve seen it countless times.
Prospective clients tell me they’re ready.
I give them three simple things to do.
They disappear.
Six months later they return.
Nothing changed except my prices.
Success isn’t complicated.
It usually requires consistent action that most people postpone because they’re waiting until they’re “ready.”
The truth?
Very few entrepreneurs ever feel completely ready.
They simply decide to move forward anyway.
Life has a way of throwing curveballs at every entrepreneur.
Health scares.
Financial struggles.
Family crises.
Loss.
Failure.
Disappointment.
But those experiences often become the very reason we’re equipped to help someone else.
Your story may not be the one you wanted.
But it might be exactly the story someone else needs to hear.
Don’t hide it.
Share it.
Because your greatest pain may become someone else’s greatest source of hope.
And sometimes, that’s the most valuable thing your business will ever offer.
The post Your Greatest Pain Might Be Preparing You for Your Greatest Purpose first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>Use an em dash?
AI.
Write short paragraphs?
AI.
Leave whitespace between sentences?
Definitely AI.
Proper grammar? Suspicious.
No spelling mistakes? Clearly a robot.
And God forbid you organize your thoughts into something coherent. There’s no possible way a human being could have accomplished that without ChatGPT.
Welcome to the age of the AI Detective.
These self-appointed investigators roam social media looking for telltale signs that someone used artificial intelligence. The problem is that many of the things they’re identifying as “AI writing” existed decades before AI started generating content.
Short sentences existed.
Whitespace existed.
Copywriters used one-sentence paragraphs.
Authors used em dashes.
People created lists.
Writers asked rhetorical questions.
And humans occasionally managed to spell every word correctly.
AI didn’t invent these things.
AI learned them from us.
Which makes the whole exercise rather ridiculous.
But we’ve somehow managed to make it even more absurd.
I’ve watched people purposely insert grammatical errors, misspell words, avoid certain punctuation, and change their natural writing style because they’re afraid someone will accuse them of using AI.
Think about that.
For generations, teachers, editors, publishers, and employers told us to improve our writing.
Proofread your work.
Fix your spelling.
Use proper grammar.
Organize your thoughts.
Communicate clearly.
Now?
“Quick! Misspell something so people know you’re human!”
We’ve reached a point where competence itself can apparently be considered evidence of artificial intelligence.
Which gave me an idea.
That’s right.
You can now proudly display the Certified Organic Human™ stamp.*
Finally, definitive proof that your thoughts were produced by a genuine, free-range human being.
No synthetic intelligence.
No factory-farmed ideas.
No artificially generated opinions.
Just wholesome, locally sourced human thought.
Depending upon your particular level of humanity, several certifications may eventually be available.
Absolutely no artificial intelligence was used in creating your content.
Your ideas were grown naturally inside your skull using traditional methods passed down through generations.
Artificial intelligence may have been involved somewhere in the process, but don’t worry.
A human actually had the original thought.
Your ideas were allowed to roam freely before eventually being corralled into paragraphs.
No restrictive prompts.
No content cages.
Just thoughts wandering around until something useful happened.
Absolutely no Grammatically Modified Output.
Every sentence has been raised according to traditional grammatical practices.
Unless we screwed one up.
In which case, that’s additional proof we’re human.
Every opinion was created within 50 feet of the person claiming to have it.
No imported hot takes.
No outsourced outrage.
No mass-produced thought leadership.
Contains naturally occurring spelling mistakes, punctuation errors, awkward sentences, and the occasional word that makes absolutely no fucking sense.
Perfect for anyone who needs undeniable proof that AI couldn’t possibly have been involved.
Our highest level of human certification.
To qualify, your writing must contain at least three typos, two questionable commas, one unnecessary apostrophe, and a sentence so poorly constructed that readers have to go back and read it twice.
Congratulations.
You’re definitely human.
Probably.
Naturally, every Certified Organic Human™ stamp would come with an important disclaimer:
Certification does not guarantee that the content is interesting, intelligent, useful, accurate, entertaining, or worth reading.
Because that’s the part everyone seems to be missing.
I don’t particularly care whether someone used AI to help write something.
I care whether the finished product is worth my time.
Did you have an interesting idea?
Did you bring your own experience to it?
Did you have a point of view?
Did you teach me something?
Did you make me laugh?
Did you make me think?
Did you give me a reason to keep reading?
Those questions matter infinitely more than whether you used an em dash.
AI can produce terrible content.
Humans can produce terrible content.
AI can help create something insightful.
Humans can create something insightful.
The tool isn’t the ultimate measure of quality.
The result is.
And deliberately making your writing worse just so strangers on the Internet won’t accuse you of using AI might be the most artificial thing of all.
So stop worrying about whether your writing looks sufficiently human.
Have something worth saying.
Say it in your own voice.
Use whatever tools make you better.
And if some AI Detective still doesn’t believe you?
Just show them your shiny new Certified Organic Human™ stamp.
That should settle it.
Probably.
Certified Organic Human™ stamps, certifications, badges, certification levels, Free-Range Writer designations, AI Detective approvals, and all other wonderfully ridiculous products described in this article are satire and are not actually available for purchase or certification.
At least not yet.
Because after writing this article, I’m starting to think I might actually be onto something.
The post Now Available: The Certified Organic Human™ Stamp first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>One of the biggest themes throughout the conversation was this:
Too many entrepreneurs are underpricing themselves, overworking themselves, and tolerating clients they should’ve walked away from years ago.
Rob shared how his consulting rate sits at $1,500 for a one-hour session. And when someone asks for a discount, he flips the conversation on its head by offering 15 minutes for $500 instead. Not to be arrogant… but to prove a point. Value isn’t measured by minutes on a clock. Value is measured by experience, insight, and outcomes.
Joseph Graham echoed the same mindset. Years ago, despite winning awards and producing results, he was charging only a couple hundred dollars. Then he realized something critical:
“What’s simple to you is not simple to them.”
That realization changed everything.
The discussion then moved into why entrepreneurs need stronger boundaries. Both Rob and Joseph agreed that hustle culture has completely distorted what entrepreneurship is supposed to look like. Working 14-hour days every day isn’t freedom. It’s self-imposed chaos.
Joseph talked about how even in Fortune 50 sales environments, he learned to work intentionally. He knew his numbers, executed his tasks efficiently, and didn’t pretend to stay busy just to look productive. Rob shared that he intentionally works focused blocks of time instead of endlessly scrolling social media pretending it’s “work.”
And that led directly into one of the most important points of the entire interview:
The best entrepreneurs build systems that protect their lives… not businesses that consume them.
Another major topic was pricing strategy and client quality. Rob explained that the higher the monthly investment, the fewer headaches the client usually creates. Cheap clients question everything. Premium clients focus on outcomes. The irony is that entrepreneurs often believe lowering prices will attract more opportunity, when in reality it usually attracts more stress.
The two also dismantled the obsession with “pipelines” and treating humans like commodities. Rob has long believed in “Friends first, clients second,” and the conversation reinforced that philosophy repeatedly. The best clients often never comment publicly, never engage with every post, and never announce themselves. They quietly watch for months, absorb your content, and then eventually send a message when they’re ready.
That reality completely contradicts what most social media “gurus” teach.
In fact, Joseph shared a perfect example of vanity metrics versus real business. One of his podcast-related reels reached over 42,000 views… and generated virtually no revenue. Meanwhile, a targeted sales video with far fewer views could easily land a high-value client. Visibility without conversion means very little.
The conversation also touched heavily on authenticity online. Both discussed how many creators simply copy whatever popular influencers are posting. LinkedIn especially was called out for becoming a sea of recycled Gary Vaynerchuk-style content where nobody develops their own voice anymore.
Rob also warned about mixing political content into business branding. He shared how a single offhand political comment years ago cost him a $75,000 account. The lesson wasn’t political correctness—it was understanding that once your personal ideology overshadows your expertise, your business identity becomes fractured.
One of the more interesting sections focused on automation and content creation. Rob openly admitted that much of his social media is automated using thousands of pieces of existing content. Joseph talked about recycling old Facebook memories and refreshing them with AI tools when appropriate. Their point was simple:
Authenticity doesn’t require you to be chained to your phone 24 hours a day.
Consistency matters more than performative “always online” behavior.
The interview also explored customer experience through the lens of Disney. Rob explained why Walt Disney World is one of the greatest real-world business classrooms ever created. Pricing tiers, emotional experiences, upsells, customer retention, flow design, and immersion are happening everywhere around you if you know how to observe it. That’s part of the inspiration behind his “Embrace The Magic” entrepreneur immersive experiences.
But perhaps the strongest takeaway from the entire conversation was this:
Entrepreneurship is supposed to create freedom, not slavery.
If your business constantly chases discounts…
If you’re waiting 60-90 days to get paid…
If every client interaction feels transactional…
If you’re working nonstop yet still stressed…
Then the issue probably isn’t effort.
It’s structure.
Rob and Joseph repeatedly emphasized that entrepreneurs must stop undervaluing their expertise, stop copying everybody else, and stop building businesses around desperation. Premium businesses are built on clarity, boundaries, confidence, relationships, and implementation—not constant noise.
And in a world full of gurus chasing attention…
That message feels refreshingly honest.
The post The Unfiltered Conversation About Entrepreneurship first appeared on Anspach Media.]]>