The Social Media Lottery
- Phillip Andrew Barbb
- Aug 11
- 4 min read
The Internal Tug-of-War Between Doing It for Love and Doing It for Likes

I have to share something that's been running through my head recently.
Last year, I was back in Metro‑Detroit, visiting family. I ducked into the LA Fitness in Allen Park for a chest and tris workout. I walked up to the counter to check in, and handed the gym worker my Driver’s License. He looked at me oddly, then glanced at my ID. As he typed in my name, he picked his head up, and then hit me with an excited grin.
“Hey man... I think you gave a speech at my high school a few years back.”
It caught me off guard, but after a second or two, it clicked. Four years earlier, I was at Annapolis High School in Dearborn Heights, MI, talking to a packed gymnasium of about 1,200 students about the death of my mother when I was in high school, my struggles with sobriety, the power of community, and life after graduation.
He told me he still thought about the speech sometimes.

For a moment, it was amazing. I felt like a mini-celebrity.
But then something else surfaced—a restlessness. It made me question why I’m not working harder to make more of those kinds of connections.
I’ve heard it said hundred times, “Even if you help one person, it matters.” And trust me, I do believe that.
I’ve spent many occasions in rehab facilities and prisons talking to an audience of six or seven; hell, one time I drove over an hour, fighting LA rush hour traffic, just to speak to one person at a halfway house in Compton.
In all those instances: You show up. You do your best. You hope to make a positive impact.
Howard Zinn: “Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world.”
But the truth I haven’t said out loud much? There’s that voice hoping it was 5,000 people instead of one. That internal tension between any impact and all the impact has a real ability to steal my joy of being of service.
It makes you wonder: is ambition the problem? Is it ego? Or is it just that eight‑year‑old Phillip asking, “Am I good enough?”

The Lottery Ticket
Some days, I see someone buy lottery tickets at a 7‑11 and think, Man, that’s kind of silly. I think it was Dave Ramsey who said something like, “The lottery is a tax on the poor.” But then I swipe over to IG and hit post on a video or carousel.
And I wonder—aren’t I doing the same thing?
There's skill in what creators do, sure. It’s not dumb luck. But it really does feel like luck sometimes. You hit publish, then you wait. Is today the one that breaks through? Or will it vanish like the scratch-off no one talks about?

On Paper, I Guess I’m a Success
Two-time Emmy-nominated TV producer.
Projects with Netflix, ABC, CBS, Discovery, etc.
Author of All the Reasons I Hate My 28-Year-Old Boss.
Coaching executives and creatives to build more impact and find fulfillment.
It sounds like ‘winning’…and from the outside, maybe it is. But on the inside, the ache is still there.
Ambition battling contentment.
That internal voice, maybe my ego, wanting to know it’s enough.

The Tension I Can’t Shake
Remember that old guidance‑counselor question—“If money were no object, what would you do?” My answer wouldn’t change much: I’d still write articles, post videos, and produce television shows. But would I still want the followers, the validation, the stage?
Here’s where it gets honest: yeah, I would. It guess it would feel better with those likes and dollars behind it.
Does that make me a hack?
Am I just another clout chaser praying the almighty algorithm choses me today?
Or is it simply evidence I am just a human?
We like to say we don’t care about likes and shares—but if helping people matters, doesn’t it make sense to want more people to see it? How do you untangle the pure desire to help one person from the craving of helping 1,000,000?
No Clever, Well-Written Conclusion
This isn’t a motivational article. I’m not serving you a takeaway or a hack. I’m just wondering:
How many of us are playing the social media lottery? Our ambitions parading around as love and connection, while secretly hoping for the jackpot?
Maybe that makes us hypocrites.
Or maybe it makes us human.
So ask yourself softly—are you doing it because you love it? Or are you buying a lottery ticket with your time whenever you hit ‘publish’?

About Phillip Andrew Barbb
I’m a high‑performance coach, Emmy‑nominated TV producer, and author of All the Reasons I Hate My 28‑Year‑Old Boss. I help high‑achieving men in their late 20s to late 30s who feel caught between the life they built and the one they actually want. Each week, I share real stories, sharp insights, and small, practical steps to help you lead yourself first—with honesty, courage, and heart. If this speaks to you, join the next Sunday Solutions at www.phillipbarbb.com.

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