John B. Marek is a storyteller with dirt under his nails who weaves tales inspired by a lifetime immersed in nature. His insightful essays and award-winning fiction delve into the complexities of sustainable living, the heart of rural communities and the thrill of outdoor adventure. You can find more of his writing at johnbmarek.com.
Every year, countless high school and college students receive an exciting letter in the mail: Congratulations! You’ve been selected for inclusion in “Who’s Who Among American High School/College Students”! I received that letter twice, once as a naive high schooler and then again five years later as a wiser undergraduate. The message is flattering – after all, being recognized for academic excellence, leadership or community service is an honor. As a high school student, I proudly presented the letter to my parents, who were overwhelmed with pride and joy. They gladly shelled out not only for the book but also for the commemorative wall plaque and stein. Altogether, they were into Who’s Who for nearly $100, a significant sum for a working-class family in 1980.
By the time my college graduation rolled around, though, I was a little wiser about the ways of the world and promptly deposited the letter in the circular file where it belonged. While my accomplishments as a high schooler could reasonably have been considered worthy of recognition, my collegiate profile certainly was not. I participated in precisely zero activities, and my grades were mediocre at best. There was nothing that even vaguely qualified me for inclusion.
The Who’s Who concept is a prime example of manufactured exclusivity. Often operated by for-profit companies, these programs send mass nominations to students, creating the illusion that recipients have been meticulously chosen for their outstanding achievements. In truth, the selection criteria are often vague, sometimes relying on little more than a purchased mailing list.
The real requirement for inclusion? Your willingness to pay.
After the initial “honor,” students are typically asked to purchase a copy of the book, a plaque or a certificate to “secure their spot” in the publication. Prices these days range from $50 to well over $100. The implication is clear: If you don’t pay, you won’t be included. Suddenly, what was framed as a merit-based distinction becomes a transactional pat on the back – available to anyone with a spare $50.
Proponents argue that Who’s Who listings can bolster college applications or résumés. But let’s be honest – admissions officers and employers are well aware of these pay-to-play schemes. At best, they’re seen as useless fluff; at worst, they signal naivety. Real recognition – like scholarships, competitive awards or published research – doesn’t come with an invoice.
Who’s Who isn’t a scam – it’s just not the honor it pretends to be. It preys on the universal desire for recognition, turning achievement into a commodity.
The pay-to-play recognition model isn’t limited to students buying their way into Who’s Who publications – it extends deep into the professional world, where vanity and validation are just as easily monetized. If you’ve spent any time on LinkedIn after achieving even modest career success, you’ve likely received a message like this:
“Your background matches some of our paid board and advisory positions that we’ve been retained to fill. We’d love to discuss potential opportunities with you – please schedule a call at your earliest convenience.”
Most rational professionals dismiss these messages as either a waste of time or a thinly veiled invitation to a sales pitch. I always did – until retirement gave me both the time and the platform to investigate just how legitimate these offers really are.
Like the Who’s Who awards of the academic world, these professional “opportunities” rely on flattery and manufactured scarcity. The message implies that you’ve been selected – that your experience is so exceptional that companies are actively seeking you out. But the reality? You probably weren’t chosen because of some bespoke matching algorithm. More likely, you were chosen because your LinkedIn profile suggests two things: You have disposable income and you might be vain enough to believe you’re exceptional.
I had a long, reasonably successful career in business and economic development, but I’m under no illusion that multinational corporations are clamoring for me to join their boards. So when one of these recruiters reached out, I decided to play along – just to see how the sausage was made.
The introductory call unfolded just as anticipated, blending ego-stroking with a gradual unveiling of the actual offer. First, I would need to join their “exclusive platform,” which boasts 8,000 client companies on the hunt for talent like mine. This privilege comes at a price, starting with a $200 setup fee and then a monthly charge of $195 just to stay listed. Additionally, they recommended taking their “board certification” course to distinguish myself further, though that would require an extra payment of $2,295.
For those in search of a bargain, they offered a six-month plan for the discounted rate of $1,100 upfront. While I’m confident the company operates as a legitimate recruitment service, connecting qualified candidates with actual board positions, I can’t help but wonder if some component of their business model is more of a membership club catering to the professionally delusional: flatter professionals into believing they’re in high demand, charge them for the “opportunity” to be seen by exclusive decision-makers, and upsell additional credentials to keep the revenue flowing.
There is a definite Who’s Who vibe. In both scenarios, the selection process seems arbitrary, if it exists, and the genuine value is questionable; individuals with the credentials for high-level board positions typically don’t need these services to get noticed.
Instead of shelling out $1,100 for the chance to be “discovered,” professionals and aspiring board members might be better served by pursuing authentic networking – after all, making real connections comes at no charge. They could also look into obtaining legitimate certifications from accredited institutions or invest in respected executive education programs, even if they cost more.
Ultimately, whether it’s students paying to be included in Who’s Who or professionals investing in being “noticed” by corporate boards, the pattern remains the same: achievement repackaged as a product. In both cases, ask this question: Are you being honored for your accomplishments, or are you simply being monetized?