When I first heard Steve Keirn compare his time as a WWE producer to a daily dentist visit, I couldn’t help but chuckle. But the more I thought about it, the more it resonated—not just as a witty analogy, but as a profound insight into the pressures of working in an industry as high-octane as professional wrestling. Keirn’s recent comments on Busted Open Radio aren’t just a venting session; they’re a window into the often-overlooked challenges of behind-the-scenes roles in entertainment. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Keirn’s experience highlights the disconnect between the glitz of the ring and the grind of production.
One thing that immediately stands out is Keirn’s description of his colleagues as acquaintances rather than friends. In an industry built on camaraderie and shared passion, this feels like a red flag. Personally, I think this speaks to a larger issue in corporate environments—when teams are thrown together without fostering genuine connections, collaboration suffers. Keirn’s frustration with the lack of guidance from fellow producers isn’t just about professional courtesy; it’s about the systemic failure to support newcomers. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t unique to WWE. Many industries prioritize hierarchy over mentorship, leaving employees to fend for themselves.
Keirn’s comparison of Vince McMahon to Hitler is, of course, hyperbolic, but it’s also revealing. What this really suggests is the immense power dynamics at play in creative industries. McMahon’s reputation as a micromanager is well-documented, but Keirn’s anecdote about clashing over a match production adds a layer of humanity to the narrative. It’s easy to demonize figures like McMahon, but what many people don’t realize is that these conflicts often stem from a shared passion for the product—albeit expressed in vastly different ways.
What I find especially interesting is Keirn’s shift from producer to what he calls a ‘babysitter.’ This raises a deeper question: When does a creative role become a caretaking one? Keirn’s responsibilities expanded from crafting matches to managing talent’s off-screen behavior, a transition that feels all too familiar in modern workplaces. From my perspective, this blurring of roles reflects a broader trend in corporate culture, where employees are expected to wear multiple hats—often at the expense of their primary expertise.
If there’s one takeaway from Keirn’s story, it’s this: the magic we see on screen is built on the backs of people who often feel undervalued and overburdened. In my opinion, this isn’t just a WWE problem—it’s a mirror to how many industries operate. Keirn’s dentist analogy isn’t just about discomfort; it’s about the daily grind of navigating a system that prioritizes output over people. And that, to me, is the most compelling part of his story.
