Jesus wept — another ballroom. Another monument to the cult of the self, raised by some overcaffeinated strongman with a messiah complex and a Rolodex of sycophants who think history can be bribed with chandeliers.
Every empire in decline builds statues — or in our case, ballrooms — as if marble can outlast memory. They never learn. Rome had its arches, Versailles had its mirrors, and we’ve got a gilded dance floor in the middle of a constitutional circus.
This is what happens when leaders mistake visibility for legacy.
They think if they build something tall enough or loud enough, time will forget what it was built on. But the truth is simpler and uglier: you can’t build eternity on ego.
The infinite game isn’t about winning — it’s about staying human while everything around you tries to turn you into a brand. That’s what Sinek was getting at, and that’s what USM, in its beautifully boring Dutch logic, figured out decades ago: systems outlive heroes.
Meanwhile, America’s dancing itself dizzy — left, right, center, it doesn’t matter — all waiting for a savior with a slogan and a soundtrack. No one wants to talk about structure anymore. No one wants to build the system that makes saviors unnecessary.
The real legacy isn’t a ballroom in the White House.
It’s a grammar of sanity — a management system that lets future generations keep the lights on without worshiping the electricians.
Until we start rewarding leaders for what they leave behind for others instead of what they build for themselves, we’re just slow-dancing in the dark — tuxedos on the Titanic.