Why I Hate YouTubers

Is What I'm Creating Taking or Giving?

When I got the call, I was shocked. 

When I clicked on the video, and it began to play – I was furious. I slammed my phone down into the couch, stood up, and pounded my feet as I walked away. 

I’ve watched hundreds of prank videos, but this time, my business was the victim of the vicious scheme. 

A “YouTuber” had found a stolen uniform, grabbed his friend, a hidden microphone, and a camera, and pretended it was his first day at work at multiple restaurants in the state. As the video played out, every single restaurant caught him in the act immediately, except for one. He saved the best for last. 

The restaurant was mine. 

My team invited the imposter in without a single thought and welcomed him with open arms. 

“I’m here for my first day,” he told them, sheepishly approaching the front counter, the sound of his microphone scratching, hidden beneath his poorly put-together outfit. 

There’s some scrambling, some pausing, and some questioning from the leaders. The tension was palpable as you waited to see if the team would find the fraud.  

Spoiler alert: they didn’t. 

Within a few moments, a key leader stepped out from where she had been working in the back office. She didn’t for a second hesitate to act. 

She broke into a huge smile and cheerfully shook his hand, “Welcome to the team!!” 

The game was afoot. 

She gave him immediate access to our most private areas, reserved only for team members, and began training this fraudulent fiend to be a “team member” in our restaurant. No nametag, wrong pants, faded shirt – a wolf in poorly fitting sheep’s clothes. 

In the final cut of the video, the camera cuts away for a moment in the bathroom with the fake team member staring at the camera in shock and awe, exhilarated that he landed some of the most incredible content for his followers. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, grinning and laughing into the camera. “We did it!” We’re supposed to cheer him on, to give him a virtual “high-five,” and get hungry for more.  

That story has been stuck in my mind for years – the anger I felt back then about my business and my team being duped for clicks and likes still remains.

It’s why I’ve committed myself always to be a value creator, never a content creator. 

The rise of the YouTuber is a fascinating space, with some research indicating that ⅓ of children today aspire not to be a firefighter or astronaut when they grow up but want to be a YouTuber. Our media intake, especially at a young age, has now crafted the imaginations of those consumers. Log into any platform, and you’ll find a new class of citizens – “Content Creators” – who are selling ads, doing trick shots, or pranking strangers. The big business of entertainment is creating its future employees one video at a time. 

Innately in each of us, there’s a desire to be seen and known. A longing to have who we are and what we make celebrated and loved. “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes,” Andy Warhol told us.

He was right. 

Having 50 billion daily views on a platform sounds like the perfect place to be seen and known in the most profound ways. Yet a quick search will find thousands and thousands of the “This isn’t working” or “I have to come clean” videos from YouTubers who have burned out, aren’t happy, and have to admit they haven’t shown their true authentic selves. 

Unfortunately – they usually keep making more content, never pausing to consider if they could make something of value. 

Content in and of itself is not wrong – in fact, I want to argue that you should pursue the utmost quality and excellence in what you create.  But your heart behind it should be checked, prodded, and evaluated.

I believe my intentions are a huge part of the value I create. I am seeking not to acquire something from my audience, but to steward these stories and creation. Acquisition is a stance of taking, stewardship is a stance of care for what I’m being given.

I’ve decided not to play the game of content creator: always pursuing the clicks and the likes and choosing content that provides those dopamine hits to readers or viewers. Beyond what this does to the audience, what will it do to me?

When I think about many of the biggest YouTube creators, they often sound miserable. A recent podcast episode  host spoke about how even Jimmy Donaldson, the man behind the incredible Mr. Beast channel, gets frustrated when people on his team have children because it becomes a distraction from the pursuit of being the “best” in the game. 

When you get to that point, it might be time to evaluate if what you’re doing is actually of any value. It’s entertaining, certainly, but does it actually provide any value in the world at large? Is sacrificing your family (or potential family) worthy of the outcomes you’re hoping for? 

So often, we do this without thinking or considering the second or third-order consequences. We’re quick to start down a journey, imagining the perfect outcome, never considering what this journey will do to our hearts, our minds, or our spirit. 

A content creator's dreams of fame and success are rarely fulfilled. Instead, they are like a drug-addict, scraping and scratching for their next hit which will keep them satisfied. But there is nothing that will ever satisfy that craving and longing they hope to find. 

Whenever I have the temptation to make something that’s content – interesting, but not useful – I remember the anger of being duped by that young YouTuber. 

I want to create “content” that resonates deeply in the hearts of those who interact, not that triggers them solely for the dopamine hit they desire. I want to create things that evoke pleasure, joy, and thought, and speak to people’s souls. 

This requires a level of work much deeper than one that spends mental capacity on the perfect thumbnail for a video that will utilize psychology to manipulate someone to click or watch. 

This is not to say that entertainment is innately bad. It is one thing to create something funny or absurd, it is another to create it in a way that is demeaning, harmful, or tasteless. 

When you’re sitting down next to write or to record, let’s pause and ask for a moment: is what I’m creating taking or giving? Am I trying to acquire something, or am I seeking to steward this audience?

A comic who has carefully crafted words to evoke laughter and joy from an audience all in good fun is far different than the creator who gets clicks by screaming “fire” in an auditorium or demeaning or hurting innocent bystanders.

Content creators take from their audience. They craft their content and utilize psychology to manipulate their viewers to make money from them – the views turn into more dollars. Ironically, these creators are often left empty and broken. 

Value creators give to their audience. They create their content and utilize care to feed the minds and souls of their viewers by providing life-giving resources, tools, or artwork that inspires and delights. Value creators are rewarded at a far deeper level than they could have ever dreamed. 

I hate YouTubers – not the people, but what many of them represent. A pursuit to produce for all the wrong reasons. 

I don’t want to build slot machines that feed on empty minds, I want to craft artwork that replenishes souls. 

Which way will you choose?

Thanks for reading,

Tim

---

Thank you: Thank you to

Harrison Moore

,

Mohammad Khan

, and

Anthony D'Apolito III

for their incredibly insightful and challenging feedback on this piece.