I’ll never forget the first voicemail message I received.
“Paul Rosenberg, hermano mío. Let’s do this! Fly me down from Puerto Rico to Miami first class, let’s hit the recording studio and I will make you millions!” How cool, I thought when I realized someone had confused me for Eminem’s longtime manager of the same name.
The cool factor didn’t last.
The day after, I received another voicemail message. “I was Eminem’s lover, and I inspired 10 of his songs, so I think you need to wire me a million dollars to my bank account, which is my 10%.” I wondered: Why 10%?
As if she was reading my mind, 30 minutes later she called back and said: “Make it $500,000. That’s only fair.” Sounds like a plan. I’ll get my checkbook.
Since that fateful day, due to a change in a search engine algorithm that puts my contact info in the top results when people search for the music mogul of the same name, I have received hundreds of requests, mixtapes and fan letters intended for the other Paul Rosenberg. I’ve gotten everything from requests for signed memorabilia to concert gig offers to birthday wishes from strangers all over the world.
I am a business coach and speaker by trade. At first, my logical mind couldn’t make sense of it all. If you think about it, why would a music industry heavyweight like Paul Rosenberg have his email or cell phone in the public domain? But logic has nothing to do with it. The messages I receive are fueled by pure emotion and hope. Maybe that’s what keeps me from sending them straight to the trash folder unread.
I’m also an ex-comic, so my natural inclination was to find all of this amusing. Every week, friends and family would ask to hear the latest funny story. I even posted a YouTube video on my newfound fame, ending it with an original rap complete with a mic drop.
At first, it was fun. The fun didn’t last.
Once, when I made the mistake of answering a call from an unknown number, it was a kid from Iowa who claimed to be the greatest white rapper ever. I imagined beats about corn and the literal kind of hoeing.
When I told him I had no connection to the music biz, even apologizing and giving him some tips on other leads, I thought that would be it. He then proceeded to call me eight times in the next two hours, insisting that I WAS the real Paul Rosenberg and that both Eminem and I were just afraid of his talent. He even challenged Eminem to a rap battle in honor of Eminem’s early years in Detroit.
Whereas my situation had entertainment value before, now it was just plain annoying. I tried tracking down the “real Paul Rosenberg” through Shady Records, Gotham music management and Def Jam so I could start forwarding the messages to them. I reached out to several search engines as well to try to stop the barrage, with no response. Since people often find me through my business website, I can’t take it down without also losing potential clients. Likewise, I have been reluctant to change my business phone number.
Photo Courtesy Of Paul Rosenberg
But over time, a slow change in perception began to grow in me. I have always believed that while the world gives us many things we cannot control, we are responsible for how we react to them. The majority of the messages I receive are from the heart. No matter how far-fetched they may seem to me, they represent someone’s hopes and aspirations.
I began to craft kinder responses to those genuine requests. I started to see that I could let the callers and texters down easily, but still encourage them on whatever path they are following. I use my sense of humor, and I honor and acknowledge their dream. (Unless they call me eight times in a row.)
The whole thing came to a head one night when a WhatsApp message from Brazil at 2 a.m. left me chilled. It was a cry for help and a threat of suicide from someone who said Eminem’s music was his “lifeboat.”
My heart was in my throat. Frantically, I found some mental health resources where he lived and passed them on. I don’t know if I was successful in being this man’s lifeboat that night, but I had to try. I posted a video message about valuing who you are, and how obsession was not the healthy choice.
Four years later, I am still not any closer to finding the right way to steer the people who reach out to me daily. When I do respond, I let them know I’m not the right guy, and encourage them in their journey. Especially for the kids with illness, the anniversaries, the fans and the birthday wishes, I get back to as many as I can over time. I just can’t get to all of them, and I am at peace with that now.
In his song “Beautiful,” Eminem said, “God gave you them shoes to fit you, so put them on and wear them. Be yourself man, be proud of who you are.”
I couldn’t agree more. As I write this, there are four texts and emails waiting for my attention. That’s the message I hope to send them.
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