Here’s a crazy thing that once happened to me:
A person who I once worked with told a story about himself except the story wasn’t about himself.
It was a story about me.
It was my story.
It was something that had happened to me.
It was a story that I had once told him.
Crazy. Right?
The person liked my story so much that he decided to adopt it for himself.
Then this person was stupid enough to tell the story, as his own story, to a group of people that included one of my friends.
A friend who knew that it was my story.
A friend who called this person out immediately for stealing my story.
A friend who told me all about it.
What kind of person pretends that someone else’s life is their own?
How desperate for attention must you be to steal someone else’s life experiences and pass them off as your own?
Happily, I don’t work with this person anymore. He has moved onto other positions and ultimately far greater disgrace, but it left me wondering:
Is this a one time incident, perpetrated by a sad, desperate liar, or is this something that happens from time to time in the world? Do people of questionable ethics and an insatiable desire for attention pretend that the events of other people’s lives are their own?
I hope not.
I’d hate to think that I spend this much time crafting and telling my stories to readers and audience members only to have some loser come along and tell them as their own.
