”Your mistake was thinking any of this was ever truly yours.” - Friends & Neighbors, Season 1

Last weekend, I had the joy of catching up for a quiet dinner in Omaha with a mentor and friend, Apple CEO Tim Cook.

He recently announced that he would be transitioning out of the CEO role at the company after a 15 year tenure.

When the news first broke of his announcement, several people asked me how I thought he would handle the major life change and identity shift.

My answer was a story from a dinner we shared several years ago—one specific interaction that I'll never forget.

I had recently seen an article that listed Tim alongside the likes of Kim Kardashian, Justin Bieber, and Leonardo DiCaprio as an "A-List" celebrity.

When I mentioned it to him, he broke into laughter at the comparison.

But I was curious, so I asked how he had managed to maintain such a low ego despite his rapidly growing fame since assuming the role of CEO.

He had gone from a relative unknown taking over for Apple's legendary founder to a household name widely considered one of the greatest CEOs in the world.

His response:

"Well, all of that, it's not about me. It's about the role."

The wisdom in his answer didn't hit me until much later.

He had managed to separate his identity from the success and title.

Even in the midst of a historic run, he had the awareness to maintain an identity distinct from the role.

The most common identity trap I’ve observed, after years of spending time with people at every stage of life and success, is the opposite:

The rigid attachment of identity to fleeting, external things.

In some ways, his perspective mirrored the famous Patek Philippe ad campaign:

"You never actually own a Patek Philippe. You merely look after it for the next generation."

Tim was merely looking after the company for the next generation.

As I shared that perspective at our dinner last weekend, it reminded me of a powerful story from author Simon Sinek in ​Leaders Eat Last:​

A former Under Secretary of Defense was speaking at a conference and told the audience about his experience attending the same conference in prior years.

In the past, when he was the acting Under Secretary of Defense, he had been flown to the event first class, put up in a nice hotel, shuttled around by drivers, and given coffee in a nice, ceramic cup.

This year, now the former Under Secretary of Defense, he had flown coach, found his own way to the venue, and when he asked for a coffee, was directed to the coffee machine with a styrofoam cup.

The lesson was clear:

"The ceramic cup they gave me last year...it was never meant for me at all. It was meant for the position I held. I deserve a Styrofoam cup...All the perks, all the benefits and advantages you may get for the rank or position you hold, they aren’t meant for you. They are meant for the role you fill. And when you leave your role, which eventually you will, they will give the ceramic cup to the person who replaces you. Because you only ever deserved a Styrofoam cup."

I've come to think of this as the Styrofoam Cup Theory:

Your identity should never be attached to the roles you occupy in the world.

All of the professional titles, bonuses, accolades, and accomplishments are fleeting.

They aren't truly yours.

They're here today, gone tomorrow.

And if you allow yourself to be defined by them, you'll be painfully surprised when they are inevitably taken away from you.

The wisdom is found in maintaining two minds at once:

Embrace the joy and responsibility you've earned in the present season. Enjoy the ceramic cup. But never forget that you're merely looking after it for the next generation.

Because remember: None of this was ever truly yours.