Cadillac Mistake: Raise Your Value for the Right Reasons
In my college years, I developed a fondness for big cars.
This was a passion—a weakness actually—that led me to own a couple of distinctively undependable vehicles.
My first was an '85 Crown Victoria ragtop, complete with tinted windows and thick white-wall tires. Loved that car. I remember dedicating weekends to its upkeep—I made sure the oil was level and the wheels were polished. Later, seeking something more luxurious, I shifted gears to a '94 Cadillac DeVille. It was a cruiser, replete with leather seats and that unmistakable Cadillac aura. I rolled across the Indiana countryside in a living room. But as any car enthusiast knows, older luxury cars come with hefty maintenance costs. I was well aware of this, yet the allure of the Cadillac badge, the status it represented, was irresistible.
Because the decision to buy the mystical Cadillac was driven more by status than practicality, it turned out to be a financial misstep. I was a college student. College students don‘t need Cadillacs. I could've opted for something more reliable, like a Toyota Camry or a Ford Taurus. These choices, while lacking the Cadillac's prestige, would have kept me out of the repair shop and would've been kinder to my already-light wallet. This experience parallels a common phenomenon I see often, not just in personal choices but in our professional lives, as well.
Why am I waxing nostalgic about the Cadillac? Because it mirrors a critical lesson that's highly relevant in our professional endeavors, particularly in the field of behavior analysis. Often, we chase high-value titles or positions in an attempt to affirm our worth, both to ourselves and to others.
We often find creative ways to drive up our own personal value. Resorting to the most expensive (and wrong) ways of doing so —like buying Cadillacs and PhDs.
Whether it's pursuing a BCBA certification, a PhD, or a leadership role, the intent behind these pursuits matters immensely. If the drive is purely for the title—for the external validation it brings—it's akin to buying that expensive, status-symbol car when a more practical option would suffice. Titles, much like brand names, don't always inherently endow competence or worth.
I’ll never forget a BCBA reaching out to me and telling me that they were going to pursue their PhD. “Great! What area of study are you thinking about?” I asked. “I don’t know,” they replied, “but I just know I want to be called Dr. Smith.”
Hmmm. It reminded me of me. Except the soon-to-be Dr. Smith wanted a much more expensive version of the Cadillac.
A professional title is a byproduct of one's competence and dedication, not the goal itself. The most effective clinicians, researchers, and leaders I've encountered rarely flaunt their titles. Their focus lies in the work itself—in making meaningful contributions to the field, advancing the science, and bringing people together. Any titles they acquire are merely incidental, not the core of their professional identity.
A title or a promotion should be a symptom of the quality of work we’ve done.
Jim Rohn always said that you’re paid on the value you bring to the marketplace. You’re also promoted and titled based on that value, as well.
The real takeaway here is twofold. First, pursue your goals—I’m not discouraging that by any means. Second, pursue those goals for the right reasons—reasons not entirely based on personal insecurity or pride. Strive to excel in your field, to genuinely help those you work with, and to push the boundaries of what we know and how we practice. Look to bring value. Let your work speak for itself, and then the clinicians around you will tell you to go for that PhD or apply for that big position that just opened up.
As for me, I've since traded the allure of status symbols for the practicality of a minivan. It's functional, affordable, and suits my needs perfectly. There's a profound sense of contentment that comes from aligning your choices—be they cars or career paths—with your genuine needs and values.