“Life is completely meaningless — especially if you’re a corporate drone,” says motivational speaker Iggy “The Eye-Opener” Davidson. “My job is to help people come to terms with how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. If they were to quit, retire or fall into an irreversible coma and slip into death, it wouldn’t make one iota of difference to their company. Someone else would come along to replace them. It’s a message I share with all my audiences, and my hope is that they walk away inspired.”
Iggy “The Eye-Opener” Davidson, a motivational speaker living in Las Vegas, said Monday that his unique blend of vague and meaningless advice has helped him win the hearts and trust of cubicle-dwellers across the country.
Davidson, who often speaks at corporate events and is also the author of two bestselling books, said when it comes to problem-solving and self-improvement, audiences want “feel-good fluff” rather than specific solutions.
“A solution often requires hard work, and hard work isn’t going to motivate anybody,” he said. “So I just tell people to think positively and to visualize goals. You know, useless crap like that.
“That way, they can feel a sense of triumph as they return to their bland lives and run-of-the-mill careers,” he added.
Davidson said most of his business comes from corporate speaking engagements, where executive managers count on him to “breathe life into disgruntled, burned-out employees.”
“Let’s face it: Most corporate employees are nothing more than cogs in a machine,” Davidson said. “They make dismal wages and lead pointless lives. My job is to make them feel empowered — to trick them into thinking they can rise above the tedious grind and accomplish great things.
“They can’t, of course, because they’re merely worker bees,” he added. “But if they feel good, even for a short while, they’re less likely to whine and complain and piss off their managers. After all, employees oblivious to their plight tend to be happier.”
Davidson said audiences typically respond with enthusiasm to the bland, motivational gibberish he peddles.
“They want to believe there’s more to life than a 9-to-5 schedule and a cramped cubicle,” he said. “And there is — but only for the CEO and the corporate officers. Those guys are entitled to high salaries and enviable stock options, for sure. But for the minions who hold it all together, all life has to offer is the guarantee of eventual death. And in their case, death is something they should be looking forward to, because it’s the only relief they’ll have.”
Davidson said his advice is general enough to sound genuine, and vague enough so that audiences will forget about it and not hold him responsible when it doesn’t work.
“My job is to instill them with inspiration and euphoria,” Davidson said. “They get all excited and start waving their arms around, like little kids at a school assembly. Some even cry. But once they return to the tedious humdrum of their hamster-wheel existence, they quickly forget everything I said.
“They forgetting part is key,” he added. “If I were to dispense specific, concrete methods for self-improvement, people might actually try them. But the problem is that once you’re a corporate drone, you’re always going to be a corporate drone. No amount of self-improvement or positive thinking is going to change that. And I don’t want people to blame me for their pathetic lives and meaningless careers. It’s not my fault they weren’t born into upper-crust, white-collar families. That’s on them.”
Davidson said he considers himself a showman who provides temporary relief to the unremarkable masses.
“I make people feel good — that’s all it is, really,” he said. “I’m no different than a musician, a magician, a juggler. And I’m not offering false hope. Deep down, most people know they’re average and unexceptional. And when I ask them visualize goals, they don’t have any.
“But,” he added, “for a brief moment, they feel totally empowered, like they can accomplish great things. They’re never going to, obviously, but it’s that feeling of exultation they’re looking for — something that makes sense of all the memos and meetings.”
Davidson said he considers himself more of an entertainer than he does a wisdom-giving icon.
“It’s all show,” he said. “I’m just an ordinary guy. But unlike most people, I found a profitable way to escape the soul-crushing drain of corporate servitude. That’s what makes me different: I escaped. More power to me, right?
“Heck, my middle name isn’t even ‘The Eye-Opener,’” he added. “It’s Wayne.”