It’s March and I’m sitting at my desk in the corner of the living room of my one-bedroom apartment. I’m staring at the computer screen, just praying for an email.

I’m not waiting for an email in particular. Any email will do. Especially if it’s a gig offer.

It had been 9 years since my first payday as a professional magician, and 5 years since going full-time. Things were going well enough.

The bills are paid, there’s always food on the table, and we’re not in any debt. My fiancé is working on her Masters, trying to become a psychotherapist for kids in at-risk families.

She’s at class all day and I’m working gigs at night. My schedule is full, except for when it’s not.

When I was 16 years old dreaming of being a professional magician I never imagined that at this stage I’d still be unsure where my next gig was coming from.

Plus, I’m still getting requests for 5-year-old birthday parties, even though I’ve never done a kids’ magic show in my life. “I’ve gotta fix the messaging on my website,” I think.

But somehow the next gig always comes, and somehow I’d increased my income by at least 10% every year since I’d been in business.

An email pops up.

I just know what it’s going to say.

“Hi Mr. Miller, we found you on Google. What are your rates? My daughter is having a Harry Potter themed birthday party next Saturday and we’re looking for a magician.”

I click on Google Calendar. I’m free next Saturday. Maybe I should just do it. Money is money, right? And Lindsey’s student loans are only growing. Pretty soon that “no debt” fantasy will come to an end.

With that realization I open the email.

“I am the Vice President of my school’s National Honor Society and we’ve taken on the task of planning graduation this year. I think you would be a great inspiration to both the graduating students as well as the students who still have a year left at this school. Thank you for your consideration.”

After I scoop my jaw off the ground, I immediately start typing a response. If there’s anything I’ve learned in nearly a decade, it’s that I’m not special. They probably reached out to at least 5 people and whoever answers first is going to get the gig.

We jump on a phone call and seal the deal.

A few hours later Lindsey gets home from school and, over dinner sitting at the tiny Ikea table three feet from my desk and three inches from our couch, I tell her the news.

“I’m going to give the commencement speech at a local high school.”

“Wow!” she said. “What are you going to talk about?”

“They asked me to talk about how I became a successful magician, and relate some lessons from that to their graduating seniors.”

In that moment I realized, for the very first time in 9 years, that I was successful.

It wasn’t anything like what I imagined. I wasn’t flying 1st class to gigs, we didn’t live in a 10 bedroom house, and we weren’t taking swanky European vacations.

But I am supporting Lindsey through her Masters degree, covering all our living and leisure expenses as a self-employed magician. We have a loving relationship, great friends, and our health.

A cold email from a 17-year-old kid changed my entire life. Not because they paid me – the pay was less than half what I was getting for my regular magic gigs – but because he saw me in a way I had never seen myself.

“Successful.”

In the 12 months that followed I delivered a TEDx talk, became a viral sensation, nearly doubled my income, and transitioned into the world of speaking.

Labels are really powerful. It’s best when we can assign them to ourselves, but sometimes it takes an outsider to see us for who we really are.

And what a gift we can give to others. It costs nothing, but it changes everything.