The People Who Said No to Mr Beast in 2017

Why is it so hard to find influencers who actually want to collaborate?

What am I missing here?

A month ago, I was hired as a producer/production coordinator for a creative powerhouse of comedy sketches, and they have just crossed seven million followers across platforms.

Seven million.

For scale: that’s roughly how many subscribers Mr Beast had around 2017. Back then, he was still just a lanky teenager in North Carolina making slightly chaotic videos about counting to 100,000. He wasn’t yet the world’s most famous philanthropist with his own chocolate brand and theme park plans. He was simply… someone who saw the future before it became obvious.

I want to reflect on a skill that rarely gets spoken about in the industry, perhaps because doing so can sound a little patronising, and that’s not my intention. I don’t believe there’s only one right way of working, or that my approach is better than anyone else’s. But I do think there’s a quiet, often overlooked ability that makes a real difference to people’s careers in creative fields: the ability to see potential before it’s obvious.

And lately, I’ve been trying to find influencers to collaborate with, and I can’t help but notice a pattern: the reluctance to recognise opportunity until it’s already mainstream.

The puzzle of the polite “no”

You would think, given the size of a 7-million-platform, that collaborations would be straightforward. You’d think people would jump at the chance. But my inbox is a museum of polite refusals: “not sure”, or my personal favourite: “What is in it for me? ”

These are all reasonable responses. And yet, something about them feels off.

I’ve seen this pattern before. Last year, I was working as an assistant producer for Punchdrunk Enrichment, the sister company to Punchdrunk Global, an immersive theatre company that other companies dream of being compared to. For me, an immersive theatre fan, it’s like being invited to be Alexander Fleming’s lab assistant. So, I’d imagine actors would leap at the chance to be in one.

And yet, after days of open auditions, we still struggled to fill roles. I remember one actress in particular, whom the director kind of liked. I called her to offer her the opportunity to audition again, with the possibility of getting the role. She paused and said she couldn’t do Sundays. “That’s when I go to Mass,” she explained.

It was a three-month project. Show days are every other weekend.

I understand the importance of religion. I grew up Catholic, but even my mother would go to Saturday-night Mass if she knew she couldn’t make Sunday. But this actress said no.

And I realised something: opportunity isn’t distributed equally, not because it doesn’t knock, but because not everyone is paying attention to a knock on their door.

The European disease of cautious ambition

In Europe, there’s a strange cultural allergy to ambition. It’s as if enthusiasm is something to be embarrassed about. You’re meant to act chill about success, as though you stumbled into it by accident.

On the other hand, American creators (I have three clients from the U.S. at the moment) bring a remarkably refreshing outlook. They are motivated and entrepreneurial, thinking strategically on their feet while grasping the importance of momentum and recognising a valuable opportunity. Plus, not being scared of admitting their strategic thinking.

So when I approach European actors/influencers/producers, even the ones I admire, I often sense hesitation. A quiet voice that says, “What if this makes me look too eager?”

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: if you said no to Mr Beast in 2017, you probably wouldn’t be lucky in this industry today, not because you lack talent, but because you lack a strategic muscle that can spot potential before it’s validated by others.

That muscle, the ability to sense momentum, to see where something could go rather than where it is, is the creative industry’s most underrated skill. In my opinion, it could create a gap, separating the ones who grow from the ones who stall.

The ghost of the “exposure model”

Prior to my full-time role as a producer, I spent six years volunteering in theatre and art groups. Six years!

It wasn’t until my friend Borja Cantera encouraged me to start valuing my work that I began charging for it. I had been volunteering for experience, but once I honed those skills, it was time to start earning. Still, I completely understand the discouragement that can arise from the exhaustion of working for free when you don’t see how it contributes to your career path. Back then, I hadn’t developed strategic long-term thinking.

And of course, I understand that creators are tired of being told that “exposure” is payment. And rightly so. The creative industry has a long history of undervaluing artists, asking them to work for free in the name of visibility.

But there’s a distinction between exploitation and opportunity.

Working for free for a faceless brand that promises nothing concrete is one thing. Collaborating with a growing creative ecosystem that aligns with your audience, aesthetic, and values is another. One is unpaid labour. The other is an investment in your own trajectory. And the distinction can only be made by being passionate about learning about strategy.

The tragedy is that many influencers can no longer tell the difference, as they think that they’ve tasted the cheese and the cheese will always keep showing up (reference that can only be understood if you’ve read “Who Moved My Cheese?” by Spencer Johnson)

The world is for the people who take considered risks

I am not defending unpaid labour. The role I was offering had covered expenses and per diems. If I felt that it was a completely exploitative opportunity, I wouldn’t be defending it in any way.

However, I think the issue is deeper than the pay. When I see creators today decline meaningful collaborations because “the rate isn’t right”, I don’t see boundaries; I see fear disguised as professionalism, and I see people hiding their ‘not feeling ready’ under their idealism of ‘I wish this industry were different’

I think that in Europe, we’re raised on modesty and scepticism. We want to be discovered, not self-promote. We apologise for ambition.

It’s a skill

I sometimes wonder what became of that actress who turned down Punchdrunk Enrichment. Maybe she’s perfectly happy. Maybe she found another kind of success that I am unable to relate to because she understands what is important for her career better than I can ever do.

But I would hate to think that she left acting because she wasn’t being offered opportunities, that other actors were lucky, and that she just wasn’t.

The more I work, the more I realise that we make our own luck. And luck only means recognising the rare moment when the right project finds you and having the humility to step into it, even if it’s outside your ideal parameters.

If Mr Beast had reached out to me in 2017, I would have considered his journey, contemplated his character, and recognised that ( despite his eccentricity and the possibility of me secretly crying while at work) it was a fantastic opportunity that could accelerate my growth.

Some individuals can recognise potential even before it’s proven because they have honed the ability to reflect on future trends and possess the interpersonal skills to identify those who are truly unstoppable.

The quiet heartbreak of potential ignored

So maybe my frustration isn’t really with influencers who say no. Maybe it’s sadness, the ache of watching talented people limit themselves because they are in the game for the wrong reasons.

And I suppose that’s what keeps me up at night: the sense that if you can’t see the next Mr Beast when he’s still just “Jimmy with a camera,” then maybe this industry, this relentlessly fast, demanding, exhilarating, unfair industry, will keep outpacing you. And if they said no to MrBeast in 2017, chances are they’ll say no to the next opportunity that could change their career.

So, to wrap up this winding, slightly chaotic article, which, full disclosure, I might completely rethink next week (change is the only true sign of maturity), my takeaway is this:

success isn’t just hard work sprinkled with luck. It’s also about noticing patterns, spotting possibilities before they’re obvious, and crafting strategies that actually make sense. Really, it’s about practising that quiet skill of seeing the right opportunities and being brave enough to say yes.