“Okay, everybody in! 3, 2, 1…” 

*click*

“Great. Next! Come on in, quickly now. Okay! 3, 2, 1…”

*click*

“Next!”

It was 90s Con, the first ever convention exclusively for 90s pop culture, and our first time at a real event in 2 years.

Between having a baby and the pandemic, Lindsey and I hadn’t been to anything one might call an ‘experience’ in ages.

But when they announced that the stars of all our favorite childhood sitcoms, cartoons, and movies would be in the same room just 25 minutes from our house, we called the grandparents for babysitting, purchased tickets, and made our plans.

It was wonderful.

The booths were fun, but we were most looking forward to the photo-ops. For a (large) additional charge, you could get your photo taken with dozens of stars: the cast of Full House, Boy Meets World, Sabrina The Teenage Witch, Nickelodeon…

We set our budget and decided on two:

Jim Cummings, the voice of Winnie-The-Pooh, Tigger, Darkwing Duck, and hundreds of others, and Christopher Lloyd, who needs no introduction.

(Back To The Future snuck in on a technicality – the 3rd and final installment was released in 1990).

The rules were clear: “This is NOT a meet-n-greet. You will not have a conversation with the star. You’ll walk up, smile, get your photo, and walk out. 10 seconds per group.”

Disappointing for the astronomical price tag, but fair enough.

Repetition

As I watched group after group get their photo, my attention drifted from the initial excitement of seeing the star to the photographer.

Their job was to get their settings right before the photo-ops began, then click the shutter over and over, hundreds of times an hour, 10 hours per day, for 3 days.

This was not art. It was mechanical.

And I thought, “Gosh. They must be so bored.”

As an amateur photographer and videographer myself, I just couldn’t imagine standing there, with all their years of creative training and artistic vision, simply clicking the shutter over and over again.

And then it hit me: That WAS the art.

In this circumstance, their art wasn’t in the composition of the photo, or the creative use of the exposure triangle to produce unique results. It was in their ability to be selfless in the face of boredom.

Despite how bored the photographer must be, every single click was monumentally important to the guest or group, getting their photo taken during a once-in-a-lifetime encounter with their hero.

Lindsey and I were beaming. 10 seconds with each of two people who, in some way, shaped our childhoods and therefore the rest of our lives.

And because each photographer had the courage to be authentic – not to their self-interests in photography but instead our moment of joy – we were left with two permanent keepsakes.

Next time you’re feeling creatively or professionally unfulfilled by a boring or repetitive task, shift your focus to the people who will be served by your work.

Place your authenticity there, and notice how it changes your enjoyment.