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I’VE BEEN AN IMPOSTER all my life. In high school, I drove my silver Corvette Stingray into the teachers’ parking lot, revving the engine to announce my arrival. But once I came out from under my shades and joined the throng of students converging on the entrance, I reverted to the shy introvert walking tentatively with his head down.
From time to time, we all take on the role of great pretender to hide our fears of failure and humiliation, and to get ahead in a competitive world. Remember your first date? Were you the boy jaunting up to her front door with knees buckling to meet her parents? Were you the girl in front of the mirror perfecting her make-up? Or how about the newbie realtor driving the Mercedes he can’t afford to impress clients?
My posturing didn’t stop with high school. Terrified at the prospect of losing control, I avoided pot parties in college and took up pipe smoking. I had to be “on” even before I entered graduate school. At my admissions interview, I was told my excellent grades showed a love of learning. I nodded knowingly, remembering those all-nighters cramming for finals, with Motown music playing in the background, to compensate for my poor attendance.
Journalism was my original college major. For my honors thesis, I proposed to study the Black Sox scandal, when eight members of the Chicago White Sox were accused of throwing the 1919 World Series. Prof. Grey, a bespectacled, stubby man in a crisp white shirt, striped blue tie and burgundy vest, responded that baseball didn’t meet his standards for academic significance. I turned and left his office, feeling diminished and a little bewildered. Two days later, I made an appointment with the dean to change my major to psychology.
I approached my first academic job with innocence and fervor. I was committed to a 60 Minutes-style investigation of the good-old-boys publishing charade. I mailed mock research reports to psychologists from two divisions of the American Psychological Association, each with divergent social values. I found the reviewers were partial to studies that supported their own social convictions.
The resulting study was accepted for publication in the American Psychologist, the profession’s flagship journal. Then, a month later, I received a letter from the editor revoking the decision. No reason for the withdrawal was given other than a vague reference to the journal’s responsibility to uphold the traditions of the field.
Clearly, a higher-up was more concerned with preserving the fiction of a value-free peer review process than with making room for the inevitable role of psychologists’ social beliefs in their evaluations of research. I lost my faith in psychological science and spent my remaining 10 years in academia primarily climbing the ladder to tenure. Once again, I was the great imposter.
Just as enthusiasm for my job as director of psychiatric research was waning, I picked up a new book by Sheldon Jacobs, an early advocate of no-load mutual fund investing. He encouraged purchasing fund shares directly from management companies to circumvent the standard 8.5% front-end sales commission. Having owned funds for several years, I had already learned the two gospels of long-term investing, time in the market and the compounding of gains. Attention to commission-free and low-expense investing produced even more outsized returns. The good news: The index fund revolution has lessened the need for such vigilance.
As a psychologist, many years of tending to people’s struggles and shadows takes its toll. With retirement beckoning, I began to wind down my practice. By chance, checking my portfolio one day, I saw that Charles Schwab was looking to expand its independent advisor network. Driven by my longtime interest in the financial markets and especially fund investing, I opened an investment advisory service six months later. I felt blessed to have an opportunity to live out a passion, a chance many folks never get.
But no job is a free lunch. For all their faults and sins, brokerage houses can match representatives to their specialty. Danny deals with options and Gail covers retirement issues. But many small independent advisors try to run an omnibus shop, offering all solutions to all clients. Because our expertise and interests are as individualized as our training and personalities, we are often imposters.
I’m well-versed in mutual funds and exchange-traded funds, but I was woefully unprepared to navigate clients through the maze of fixed annuities, variable annuities and whole-life insurance. I closed my business after a couple of years, recognizing that diversification across the universe of financial options takes precedence over a narrow focus on fund investing.
We have all suffered a Prof. Grey who blocked or marginalized our career paths. Fifty-five years ago, I encountered a supercilious and arrogant man. As an impressionable and sensitive boy just emerging from adolescence, I abandoned a field I had envisioned as a career while sports editor of the Hewlett High School newspaper.
Since mid-2022, I have contributed more than 20 articles to HumbleDollar. Writing about personal finance, with an emphasis on consumer advocacy, has been enlightening and at times emotional. Psychology as a profession has been gratifying and, all things considered, has been good to me. But here now, finishing up this article, I no longer feel like an imposter.
Steve Abramowitz is a psychologist in Sacramento, California. Earlier in his career, Steve was a university professor, including serving as research director for the psychiatry department at the University of California, Davis. He also ran his own investment advisory firm. Check out Steve’s earlier articles.
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Wow! I thought I was reading my own bio with a different occupation. There’s something to be said about fake it ‘til you make it though. I chose to be a pilot in high school, a career that involves large machinery moving at great speed, sometimes supersonic. Initially, I too suffered many years of discouragement and verbal abuse, mostly from people close to me, including my parents. But stubbornness and the will to prove them wrong forced me to keep my head down and push through. A lot of hard work and determination has provided me a rewarding career and livelihood for nearly 60 years. And I’m still doing it, because I like it!
Over a long career as a professor, I’ve reflected upon the power of an encouraging word at a timely moment in students’ lives. Your Prof. Grey story is a reminder that this can work the opposite way. It can be anyone who wields power over someone else, of course.
I have my own variation of this story. Growing up, I always thought I’d be a writer. I did journalism in high school and did the creative writing emphasis in my English major in college (my university didn’t offer a journalism degree). But my fiction writing workshops, which consisted of students and instructor sitting in a circle and tearing each other’s work to shreds, convinced me beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had NO talent as a writer and should do something else.
I went into teaching and research (in applied linguistics) instead and have had a satisfying career. And I DID become a writer, though it took me a long time to own that as an identity because it wasn’t how I earned my living.
My first and only finance class was taught by a Grad School professor who felt insulted teaching undergrads. Tests had nothing to do with the assigned materials; I was studying 4 or 5 hours daily for this one class. I had to ignore my other classes. After failing multiple pop quizzes, I decided this one class wasn’t worth the damage it would cause to my semester, and dropped it. I did eventually end up in finance, it’s where my talents manifested, but only after working in accounting for almost a decade.
I remember being screamed at by teachers and being belittled — profanity included — by bosses at my first two jobs out of college. That sort of appalling behavior was considered perfectly acceptable. Folks today will complain that we’re now expected to be overly sensitive to the feelings of others. But I still recall the alternative — and today’s world seems far more civilized.
My favorite boss was a cursing desk-pounder because I and the rest knew where we stood, no doubt about it. And we loved him. The least favorite, the ones we truly hated, would smile, shake your hand, tell you great job, and then screw you over on the annual evaluation for pay and advancement.
There can be a middle road. I complained to my wife about how our granddaughter (age 4) parents coddle her, will not just give a firm “NO”. My wife pointed out that they explain calmly the reason but also do not give in. Point taken.
Great read, Steve (I say this about your HD postings quite often). A random thought occurred to me when reading your article. I recalled the great NFL wide receiver Jerry Rice’s speech at his HOF induction. He hit on many similar tones about a persistent fear of failure and feeling often like an imposter (during his playing days). He explained how he worked daily to channel this angst into his daily routine, striving to get just a little bit better at his job, and feel finally worthy of his position and comfortable in his own skin.
Possessing “Imposter Syndrome” tendencies can be both a blessing and a curse. It can drive many of those afflicted to great heights in their life – largely for the benefit of those they love or strive to serve in their daily work.
Left unchecked, it can also run an otherwise well-balanced person into the ground and result in hasty exits from solid career paths or healthy personal relationships – usually in search of some inner peace. Like most psychological tendencies, it’s helpful to have people around us to provide both affirmation and context in an effort to help keep some sense of internal balance. Many otherwise high-achieving, outwardly successful people struggle with this internal cognitive tug-of-war every day.
Thanks for shining a spotlight on this topic!
What a thoughtful contribution to the conversation!
Almost 50 years ago, I had my first dinner date with my wife Alberta. It went very well, so much so, it activated my fear of being “found out.” When we got back to my car (a mustard-colored Ford Pinto), it wouldn’t start. I was mortified, visibly agitated and sweating. She would see me for what I secretly feared I was–an unworthy oaf!
Alberta’s take on my little demonstration was very different. She later told me she wasn’t turned off by the unresponsive car, but by the obviously overdriven and immature freak out. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see me again. I had almost managed to sabotage what has turned out to be a wonderful 48-year relationship.
You really have a very deep understanding of the imposter syndrome. Your post is one of those times I wonder whether the responder knows more about the topic than the author. Whoops, there I go again, still struggling with whether I truly am who I profess to me.
Thanks so much.
Wait. What? A silver Corvette Sting Ray…in HIGH SCHOOL? That must have been some after school job…or?😉
Ha! You should have seen the parking lot at my high school. We had ‘Vettes, we had Cameros, we had Mustangs, we had a ’52 Bentley driven by a fellow with a mustache in a blue blazer.
Different worlds for sure. My hand me down ’63 Rambler wasn’t an embarrassment for me (with a few exceptions) because every kid who drove to school had a similar vintage car. Of course my dad gave it to me just a few months before the engine blew. After that I was on my own.
Mike, there was no job. My father was a complex, volatile and in many ways difficult man. He came from nothing to become a fabulously successful businessman at a young age. We were a quintessential nouveau riche family, with all its attendant material advantages and contradictions. He loved his family and, I realize now, in his own way loved me. The Corvette was an expression of his pride in what he had accomplished.
Steve, I always enjoy your articles, filled as they are with your personal stories and lessons learned. This one was no exception.
I guess a big dose of self-evaluation is inherent in your (ultimately chosen) field, but I think you’re too hard on yourself. Cut that nice Steve guy some slack!
Andrew, thanks for your support. I value my penchant for self-reflection (perhaps from family experience or professional development) as a stepping stone to personal change and growth. But, yes, it can become a problem when it gets turned into excessive self-criticism and doubt.
I suspect many of us in our youth lacked self-confidence but did our best to conceal it, unaware that most of our peers were probably in the same boat. Over time, after some missteps and successes, we no longer needed to “fake” our self-confidence, or at least not as often. Most readers on Humble Dollar are no doubt aware of the field “Behavioral Economics”. Your passion for journalism, combined with a professional background in both psychology and investment advising, puts you in a unique position to offer useful insight for many. When you think about it, most of successful financial planning and investing comes down to behavior. Who better than a psychologist with expertise in finance to offer insight?
Jack, I want to respond to your reference to self-confidence. When I was teaching, I had a precocious student who was a wonderful writer and wrote a beautiful thesis. But when I suggested she might want to publish it, she seemed more frightened than motivated. I realize now she just didn’t have enough self-confidence—she felt the opportunity was beyond her. I’ve come to realize that taking a step forward depends largely on hard work and believing in your potential (and of course luck). Talent alone is usually not enough.
Thank you. I may have a unique angle from the perspective of formal education and professional experience. But I think each of us has a special point of view gleaned from our unique family heritage and job experiences. Just look at many of the responses to articles in Humble Dollar. Some show as much wisdom about life than the writers themselves have been able to accumulate.
Steve have you started on a book? There are plenty of stories you can share which will keep the pages turning, chapter after chapter. I had a GM product in high school too, it was in Ralph Nader’s book unsafe at any speed – a Corvair, and I’m still alive to tell about it. It’s good we have the future, as we all look for more articles from you.
Thanks for your kind comment. I remember his book well. Remembering the way I was driving then, I think we were both driving cars that were unsafe at any speed. Oh yes, I’m really something about starting books—my problem is in finishing them!
2 hours ago my wife, 25 year old son and I were crossing a road in a Tallahassee disc golf park. We had ample time to cross in front of an approaching blue convertible Corvair.
I noted to my son that “you rarely see these any more” and told him about this being Ralph Nader’s initial claim to fame.
The speed limit in the park was 20MPH so it was pretty safe at that speed!
Enjoyed your article. You may have been an imposter in your earlier life, but I don’t see that now. However, the world is full of imposters and sin. I know of only one person who was never an imposter.
Are you featured in Jonathan’s new book “My Money Journey?”
I don’t think to survive in this world we can take off all of our masquerade. But we can try to limit it so that our self-presentations to the people we really care about are authentic.
Steve, I appreciate your response! I also wanted to mention that your real life stories seem to hit home with me and I like sharing them with my wife. I’ll tell her “this is what Steve’s topic is today” and we’ll have a discussion about it. Thanks for contributing to HD.
Unfortunately, Steve isn’t. I wish the book included a chapter from him, but Steve only started writing for the site last year, after the book was already in motion.
Well darn!
My first reaction, a Corvette, high school?
I can relate to being an introvert in high school, but as I read your story it appears each obstacle caused you to change direction rather than keep going forward in the direction you desired. – which was writing. Is that a fair assessment?
Were you actually blocked by others? I’m not a psychologist, but I can recall being blocked, undermined, stabbed in the back if you will and pressing on.
Like everyone else, I did get blocked by bosses or misdirected by family. But my primary obstacle was not knowing who I really was. It can be sad and scary to turn away from the first choices we fought so hard for when we were younger. For me, it took several changes in work and love before, thankfully, finding a gratifying and peaceful place.The opportunity to do this is I think one of the attractions of (early) retirement.
Steve – you’ve navigated your career based on your needs and the constraints that existed during those times. To me, that sounds like success at every turn. I enjoy your articles.
Thank you. I think our first jobs (or relationships) spring from childhood emotional needs or family necessities that may no longer apply as we mature. We become more in touch with who we really are. The lucky ones have the freedom to change jobs or partners along the way. Unfortunately, many people—often because of financial considerations or commitment to family—get stuck or blocked and must toil in a job or relationship that no longer fits. Many people must wait until retirement to actualize their true self.