How do you know when you know enough about marketing?

Luck seemed to be the main reason I got my first job as a social media manager for a small company. A former classmate wanted to train someone to take over her job before moving out of the country with her husband. At the time, I was an introverted former public relations writer and blog manager turned burnt-out barista, just getting by while looking for a “real” job. I didn’t have the professional credentials or the sparkly, bubbly personality to work in social media.

But I had some experience with social media marketing. Nothing that made me feel like I knew enough to be a full-time social media manager. The real social media team sometimes needed me as an extra set of hands. Mostly I wrote captions, accidentally designed a couple of Snapchat geofilters, responded to some comments and messages, organized and analyzed their analytics data into reports for stakeholders, and held phones while acting as the off-screen interviewer to prompt celebrities and industry leaders to share some words of wisdom during live streamed events.

The worth of my efforts is almost painfully obvious now, but it’s hard to feel confident in your work when it’s underappreciated and undervalued by the people you report to. I was the youngest employee in our department—possibly the whole building. I constantly felt pressured to prove I deserved to be there. Unless I had some seal of approval in the form of a degree, certificate, or recognition from my boss, my skills didn’t seem to count.

So when I suddenly had business cards claiming I was a social media manager, it felt like a lie. I did my best at the job, all while a space inside gnawed at me. Real credentials belonged there. A degree, certification, something. If I didn’t find something to fill that space, it would eat its way to the surface and people would see I had no business being a social media manager and they’d fire me.

But I was in massive debt for my writing degree and had car payments on top of rent, utilities, and food to worry about—not to mention my diabetic cat. I couldn’t afford the fancy education I thought would make me good enough. Instead, I hunted down every free training resource I could find. Articles, videos, downloadable guides, webinars, and even a few certification courses (the certificate, of course, was only yours if you paid).

As it turns out, you can get most of the knowledge you need to be good at digital marketing without spending thousands of dollars. All it takes is a little patience, persistence, and practice.

But was knowledge and experience enough to overcome being an introvert in the extroverted world of social media? Or was Instagram-girl energy something learnable?

Those questions inspired me to sign up for a free webinar hosted by H, a fashionable and exuberant digital marketing pro I found through Instagram. She was like a human pixie stick, so probably a good candidate for the question, “How do you get better about always being ‘on’ for social media, even on days when you’re not feeling it?”

The webinar opened with H popping onscreen, reapplying her hot-pink lipstick and dancing to music at her desk. A dance party was her signature opening move to get everyone loose and get their energy going. Unconventional and a little cringe-worthy, but effective.

I tried to match her energy, eagerly typing my responses to her questions in the chat. I wasn’t discouraged when my responses disappeared in the flood of others rushing in. Other people asked similar questions, so I settled in to wait for a response while H compared providing value to your marketing audience to welcoming guests to your party with a free glass of champagne.

That champagne saved H’s webinar from being a total disappointment. For years, it was my only takeaway. As I see other marketing experts talk about value-bombing your audience and ensuring people know what’s in it for them—leaning hard into making only transactional connections—I think about H and her champagne.

Even if you don’t like champagne, it’s nice when you get a free glass. It makes you feel special. Welcome. As though your host wants you to have a good time even if you don’t spend any money. They’re happy you’re here, no matter how long you stay. That always struck me as a fantastic way to approach content marketing.

Unfortunately, H had little else to teach. She only glazed over basic information without fostering a deeper understanding. A big chunk of her presentation was a sales pitch for her offers, but most attendees left before she got that far. We soon realized this webinar was not as live as it was advertised. It had been at one point, but we were all watching a recording, sending messages to a presenter who wasn’t even there to monitor the chat.

Several years later, her name popped into my head and I grew curious. Was she still successful? Did she have a good reputation in the industry? Did I spy red flag behavior with my little eyes? Or would a more experienced perspective reveal I’d been arrogant and judgemental because H wasn’t my glass of champagne?

The internet was all too happy to tell the story of H’s spectacular downfall leading up to the loss of a book deal and the close of her business. Former students had a lot to say about her abrasive, entitled, off-putting behavior, as well as the toxic marketing tactics she taught and employed that generated a lot of anxiety in her once-loyal following. Unfulfilled promises and poor business decisions paved the way for H’s downward spiral. However, some suspect it’s part of a coordinated effort to garner sympathy as bait for a future money grab.

Around the time I watched H’s webinar, I also went to a two-day digital marketing boot camp. I spent most of my time there grinding my teeth and sitting on my hands so I wouldn’t annoy the other attendees with my constant interruptions to fill in the instructor’s obvious knowledge gaps. During our lunch breaks, we all concluded the instructor had little of his own experience with digital marketing and relied exclusively on whatever material had been provided to him by the powers that be behind the training program. I got a certificate at the end, but I never filled in my name or tore it out of the workbook. It just wasn’t worth it after I spent those two days feeling like I should have been the one teaching.

It wasn’t entirely frustrating, fortunately. For once, other people were interested in what I had to say and came to me for my professional opinion. But not just me; we all worked in the industry and happily bounced ideas off each other. To them, this was probably a standard experience. But it was new to me and it was weird. Despite being the youngest person in the room again, I was treated like I had some authority on digital marketing. Probably because I didn’t avoid speaking up when I felt my contribution was too valuable not to share.

Thinking I probably wouldn’t see any of these people again, I saw no harm in trying to act a little more confident. For a couple of hours, I pretended I was a seasoned professional. I listened to the challenges they dealt with at their companies. If they wanted input, I talked about what I or my colleagues did in a similar scenario, or I offered some brainstorming ideas if I had no relevant experience. In turn, I asked for their input on my digital marketing efforts and struggles. It made me feel all sparkly inside to be treated like I belonged with these other pros.

A few months later, I saw two of my fellow attendees again. I was a new hire at their company, meeting the different teams I’d be working with. They said such nice things about how knowledgeable I was. All I could think was, “Oh crap. What if I’m not as good as they think I am?”