Few people know Rich Grimshaw. Fewer still admit they do.
He isn’t a celebrity. He hasn’t written any books. He’s never been elected to public office. He’s never done a TED talk, won a Nobel prize, or been on Jeopardy.
He once defended himself in the local traffic court and won his case. But nobody from the newspaper was there to cover his stunning victory, so his story went untold, and his 15 minutes of fame that Andy Warhol promised him was trashed.
He hasn’t appeared on Broadway, or even off-Broadway unless you count local community theater productions. He’s been in a few of those.
He hasn’t won any prizes or awards for outstanding achievements; or even for obscure and insignificant achievements. He doesn’t work with international companies helping them to chart their strategies. He doesn’t work with domestic companies either.
Rich doesn’t have a “brand.” He’s not looking to get one. He’s not a thought leader, unless you count thinking of what’s for dinner.
He’s pretty much a nobody.
And he likes it that way.
Rich is getting near retirement from his professional employment. He’s tentatively marked March 1, 2024, as his retirement day, and he wants to have his own podcast when he retires so he’ll have something to do other than watch cable news and go to McDonald’s for a senior’s coffee.
But. . . Rich doesn’t have much to say, and that’s a problem for a podcaster.
So he’s followingDavid Hooper’sformula for making podcast sausage - he just gets on a microphone every day and talks at it, hoping that he doesn’t embarrass himself too awfully much and that he will be better at this the next day. It is his hope - his dream - that this will lead him to podcasting nirvana. Just how is a mystery.