The Main Thing Newsletter

October 11, 2025

Greetings from Parkwood Studios in Colorful West Virginia-

And a warm welcome to our new friends in Brazil! A small group of Brazilians binged our podcast last month.

I've been working on a new wisdom mini-series, created from a collection of rare recordings from 21 years ago. Along with that creative endeavor came a gift: a joyful trip down memory lane. So many great, nostalgic recollections, including the main story for this week. More about the wisdom mini-series and those lost-now-found VHS tapes from 2004 in a moment.

It's always fun to laugh. And it's good to stay humble. So lace up your hiking boots. Let's embark on a little wisdom journey.

So, "obrigado!"

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Wisdom Lesson 67

The Streamers of Humility

A few stray streamers reminded me to stay humble.

There are few moments in life more intoxicating than walking into your very first corner office.

Mine wasn’t technically a corner, but it had both a door and a window—luxuries that, to a mid-level marketing guy from a small town, felt like the trappings of royalty.

It was January, the start of a new chapter. I’d just accepted my first Vice President role at a new organization. Forty percent raise, shiny new business cards, and, as I would soon discover, a sense of accomplishment that was about to be inflated—and promptly punctured—within the same hour.

As I stepped into my new office, I stopped in my tracks. The room was festooned with streamers, balloons, and confetti. Gold glitter sparkled on the carpet. A banner drooped across the bookcase in a half-hearted arc of celebration.

I thought, Wow, these people really went all out!

It seemed like a culture that didn’t just welcome you—they celebrated you. For a brief, shimmering moment, I believed I was the centerpiece of an office party thrown in my honor.

I stood a little taller. Smiled a little wider. Straightened my tie.
Then I leaned back in the high-backed leather chair—mahogany, of course—and thought, At last, I’ve arrived.

An Invitation to Lunch

For that first week, I floated through the halls like a man who had reached the summit of Corporate Everest. Then, a few days later, my neighbor—a genteel fellow from the office nextdoor—invited me to lunch.

Barry was older, elegant in a Cary Grant sort of way. He always wore khakis, a blue blazer, and loafers polished to the stylebook standard of Gentleman's Quarterly. His vocabulary was equally well pressed.

We took a short walk to a small café downtown. As we looked over our menus, Barry glanced up briefly and said with quiet confidence, “I recommend the chicken salad.”

When our iced teas arrived, he smiled warmly and asked, “Skip, my good man, how are you settling in?”

I responded enthusiastically, mentioning how impressed I was with the team, the culture, and yes—how thoughtful the welcome had been.

He paused, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms, as if he were deciding whether or not to share a secret. Then, with a chuckle that sounded like it had been steeped in Southern gentility, he said, “Ah, yes. About your office décor... I do owe you an apology.”

I blinked. “Apology?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing now. “You see, we had just decorated that office for Howard’s retirement party a few days before you arrived. The balloons, the confetti—well, those were for him. No one thought to take them down before your big first day.”

I stared at him, my mental image of a hero’s welcome dissolving like glitter in a rainstorm.

“Howard,” Barry continued, “was a great fellow. Beloved by everyone in the building. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough.”

And just like that, those streamers of celebration became ribbons of humility.

Looking back, I realize that office was the perfect setting for my first lesson as a VP. Sometimes in life, the moment you think you’ve arrived is really just a leftover celebration for someone else’s exit.

It’s a reminder that pride needs no invitation—it shows up unannounced, feet on the desk, basking in borrowed confetti.

But humility?

Humility waits patiently until lunch with a man named Barry, when it quietly pulls up a chair and has a sandwich with you.

Wisdom Takeaway:

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New Episode 132:

Conversations with My Mentor John (Pt. One)

I’m thrilled to share with you a project that’s been two decades in the making.

In October 2004, I recorded about 2.5 hours of wisdom conversations with my mentor, friend and client—John Wells, Jr. As you listen, you will learn much more about John.

This is the first of four episodes in this special mini-series. I hope you it blesses you with wisdom and encouragement.

Listen to it here.​

By way of a mythical football game, John presents us with the following wisdom insight—

How can I learn to view struggles as opportunities?

This notion of struggle might carry more relevance and context for you once you know that John was fighting the battle of his life against cancer. Less than four months later, John passed away.
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Listen to Episode 132

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Word of the Week: Apoplectic

"Jill wasn't just angry or mad; she was apoplectic when she got that news."

app•o•plec•tic - adjective (informal)

1. Overcome with anger
2. Extremely indignant

Origin: early 17th century: from Greek apoplēktikos, 'disable by a stroke.'

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One Last Thing -

I'll confess: I was embarrassed that it took me so long to come up with a solution for presenting my mentor's recorded wisdom stories. Nearly 15 years elapsed between those 2004 recording sessions and the launch of my podcast in late 2019. There were issues to be resolved. John's health was severely weakened. He had lost a ton of weight, to the point of a gaunt appearance. Medications caused him discomfort and led to many starts and stops. The video simply wasn't going to work: not up to John's standard of quality, nor mine.

I was confounded by the challenged. Puzzled. How to honor John's legacy, while sharing his wisdom? So, I swiveled away from the project. I tucked the tapes into a box in my office. A couple years later, those boxes were carried into my garage where they sat for another decade. The project stalled. And the tapes deteriorated, as I grieved John' death and remained stuck creatively.

Then one day the epiphany came: perhaps we can salvage the audio from the recordings with John. Maybe there'd be a way to carve out a handful of useful, wisdom-packed stories.

Now, voila, here we are: a new, dynamite, four-part mini-series, featuring John's fabulous storytelling and wisdom nuggets.

Still, my guilt and shame persisted. Resistance reigned over me. What if these aren't good? Why if nobody likes them? What if John's family disapproves? What if listeners think less of me because it took so long to produce?

Those are all nonsense.

As one of my creative neighbors said reassuringly, "The creative process is mysterious, Skip. It can't be forced. Good things take time. So what if this took nearly 20 years! The concept came at exactly the right time."

Special thanks to Diana Sole Walko of Motion Masters for the initial video recordings and license to use the recorded audio. And also to my audio engineer and friend, Bob Hotchkiss.

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Looking forward,

~Skip

Skip Lineberg

(t) 304.807.6400

Host - The Main Thing Podcast

"Your 9-Minute Dose of Wisdom"

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