When Likeability Becomes a Stand-In for Value

I smile and say thank you a lot.

Often more than the moment seems to require.

To an Uber driver when the ride ends. To a flight attendant handing me a glass of water. To a nurse doing something that is quite literally her job.

Lately, I have noticed that this basic choreography of politeness is no longer assumed. It is received with surprise. Sometimes even with gratitude in return.

That surprise is what interests me.

Somewhere along the way, what used to be normal behaviour began to register as a personality trait.

We have started treating likeability as a form of value.

Not just in everyday interactions, but in how we judge work, talent, and worth. Especially in moments of public recognition. Likeability has become a shorthand. A proxy. A way to feel confident in our judgments without having to sit too long with complexity.

It is easier to say someone feels deserving than to explain why their work mattered. Easier to praise humility than to examine excellence. Easier to reward those who make us comfortable than those who ask us to look more closely.

This becomes most visible during awards season.

Every year, the same language resurfaces. Who earned it. Who is finally getting their due. Who was humble. Who was awkward. Who seemed grateful enough. Who gave a good speech. Who smiled at the right moment. Who looked surprised, or moved, or appropriately overwhelmed by recognition.

The work itself often fades into the background. It becomes assumed, already settled. What we end up judging instead is how well someone performs relief, gratitude, and accessibility in public.

Likeability, in these moments, feels democratic. Anyone can assess it. Anyone can have an opinion. You do not need to understand the craft to decide whether you liked the person receiving the award.

That is what makes it so seductive. In a world where everyone has an opinion and every opinion competes for attention, narrative often replaces knowledge without us noticing.

Recognition feels like a verdict, when it is usually just a moment. Applause sounds like agreement, when it is often just relief. Awards, praise, virality create the impression of consensus without the burden of evaluation.

But recognition is not the same thing as durability.

Durability is what remains when the ceremony ends. When the coverage moves on. When the narrative stops being refreshed. It is not measured by how loudly something is celebrated, but by how long it continues to matter.

Awards season is structured around moments. Careers are structured around time. The two do not always align. Some work peaks brilliantly and vanishes. Other work moves quietly, resisting immediate consensus, only to deepen as years pass.

Likeability performs well in moments.

Value reveals itself over time.

Likeability itself is not the problem.

Most of the time, when we respond warmly to someone, it is because something real is happening. We like the work. We feel seen by it. We recognise effort, talent, discipline, or vulnerability. Liking the person often follows naturally.

Conflict tends to appear later, when the person steps outside the role we have quietly assigned them. When they break character. When their private choices interrupt the version of them we found easy to hold.

That discomfort is not always about hypocrisy. Often, it is about expectation. We confuse our response to the work with a claim on the individual.

And it is worth being honest about something else too. We do not just reward likeability. We reward narrative.

We like villains because they simplify the story. We like underdogs because they make effort legible. And sometimes we reward people we do not especially like because the arc feels complete. They have struggled enough. They have waited long enough.
They have earned the ending.

In those moments, losing does not feel like failure. The recognition has already been granted. The award becomes confirmation, not conversion.

Likeability works best when it is allowed to be what it is. A moment of connection, not a lifelong contract.

The trouble begins when we ask it to do more than it can carry. When we treat it as proof of worth, or as insurance against time.

Because time is less forgiving than applause.

What endures is rarely the thing that was easiest to like in the moment.

​It is the thing that does not announce itself. The thank you. The decency. The work that holds.