As we settle into the 26th year of the endlessly unprecedented 21st century, many of us feel we’re missing the mentors needed to guide us through our current perils. The guidance that we once sought from academics, philosophers, and the stray moral politician, now feels hopelessly naive. On a boiling planet ruled by crypto scammers, it’s hard to believe that “kindness is contagious” or “hard work is its own reward”.
Instead, I offer an alternative: reality TV. The advice you need isn’t coming from the heavens, it’s coming from middle-aged former soap stars who have recently thrown a glass of wine at middle-aged former child stars (my personal heaven).
Beyond gems such as Birkins should be carried open and cowboy hats should be purchased at Kemosabe in Aspen, here are some of the most valuable life lessons that reality TV has taught me.
Don’t say anything behind someone’s back you wouldn’t say to their face: On TV, this is a no-brainer – talking badly about someone in front of a camera has a way of getting back to them. But even if you’re not filming talking-head confessionals after every interaction with a friend, bad comments have a habit of resurfacing.
Reality TV stars understand that anything said behind someone’s back must eventually be said to their face. This is best practice on TV, where it’s a crime to dampen any kind of interpersonal drama but also in real life because criticism hurts more when it’s received indirectly. It’s hard when a friend tells you they’re unhappy. It’s brutal when someone else does.
Sure, a saint would suggest you don’t say anything bad at all. But 2026 is not a year for saints.
Despite my best efforts, I’ve never been able to cut out trash-talking altogether. But rather than a way to let off steam, it can be a space to prepare what I actually need to say, for example, to a coworker. From “Why are you so terrible at your job?” I can find my way to less volcanic approaches, such as “Do you feel comfortable in this role right now?”
Learn to apologise, forgive, and move on: The best reality TV stars are professional grudge-droppers. It might appear to the untrained eye that they build their careers on confrontation and scandal, but the true artists are masters of absolution. In their line of work, it’s essential to remain on good-ish terms with the people around you. No one is going to tune in week after week to watch someone silently seethe. If someone wrongs them, owns it and apologises, they’ll usually let it go.
Those of us who aren’t paying the mortgage by having a camera guy capture our colonics can see similar benefits. Family, friends and work all run much smoother if you can learn to leave the past in the past.
Don’t live beyond your means: Ironically, a genre of television built on watching people with too much money spend it on the most unpleasant objects and experiences imaginable is a pretty good place to learn how to spend — or not spend — money. The list of reality TV stars who’ve been embroiled in bank fraud, tax evasion and insurance scams grows every year.
You’d think having your every move recorded would make you think twice about breaking the law. But grimly, the pressure to maintain a certain public image has led many to pull nefarious deals to uphold a veneer of uber-wealth — only for their dreams, and faux-Tuscan mansions, to come crashing down.
Yes, in my case it’s less about renting an eight-bathroom mansion for filming. And more about resisting the urge to buy a $250 pair of hybrid loafer-sneakers to casually post on Instagram. But the financial lessons are ultimately the same.
If you laugh before you get offended, you can’t get angry: An inexperienced viewer of reality TV might think the key characteristic of a star is being mean. But that underappreciates the skills it takes to stick around for more than a season and maybe build a career beyond inspiring the occasional meme.
Anyone can be mean on camera. Those who are born for this are funny. A hyper-capable superyacht employee who makes cutting class critiques while handing out crudités. A “daffy” Beverly Hills matriarch who reduces a striving new-money social climber to a smudge of fake tan with a well-placed name mispronunciation.
Still, it’s one thing to deal a zinger. The real skill lies in knowing how to graciously receive one. And when deciding what’s worth forgiving and what’s worth dragging everyone into a blood feud over, humour plays a large part. If a barb is as funny as it is mean, one must respect the greater good and laugh it off. After all, if you guffaw before you gasp, it can’t be that serious.
When I look at my own life, I think of the occasions when my partner has made an observation about my fashion/friend/driving choices that is at once hilarious and humbling. I’m offered the choice to get mad or be humbled and entertained by the absurdity of my own life.
Keep laughing: The best reality TV stars understand that they are, at once, tender human beings with wants, dreams and needs — and characters here to entertain the masses. No matter how many businesses they launch (and tank), pairs of $25k sunglasses they lose, or bushes they drunkenly tumble into, they never stop laughing. Mostly at themselves.
As the old saying goes: when life gives you lemons, turn them into a catchphrase, print it on T-shirts and make bank selling them on your webstore.
Wendy Syfret is the author of The Sunny Nihilist and a freelance writer based in Melbourne.
The Opinion newsletter is a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up here.
Wendy Syfret is the author of The Sunny Nihilist and a freelance writer based in Melbourne.
