“Why are you so amazing?” or, Why you need to stop comparing yourself to others.

Comparing yourself to other people is a behaviour that is bred into us from a very young age. From the start, we learn that an A is better than B, and that if you get a B, you’re inferior in some way. As you get older, the same standard might end up being applied to achievements.

This happened to me this past week.

There was a girl I had met earlier but only recently got to know. She’s a year younger than me. She rejected offers from both Columbia and UC Berkeley to come to the school I go to. She’s developed an app that will be used by the Manhattan Board of Tourism. She already has investors. And in the most admirable, humble, uncondescending way possible, she offered me a job (I know, right?!). In this context, it’s very easy to ask “Why are you so amazing?”

Of course, if you’re anything like me, this question has an implicit clause to it: why aren’t I as successful?

All things considered, I’m a pretty smart guy. How come I haven’t done that yet? How come I haven’t done anything nearly as cool as that yet? It’s envy and self-criticism rolled into one unhappy ball.

It’s understandable that we compare ourselves. I’m not saying it’s healthy or wise or in any way productive, but it’s understandable because it’s a behaviour that’s been bred into us. And unlike many of my previous posts, there’s not very much I’ve discovered that lessens feeling like less.

The one thing I’ve found that makes things a little better is to remember the iceberg axiom: you only see the top, when there are miles of it underneath the surface. You can’t possibly know what that person has journeyed through to achieve their success. They may have gone through streaks of sleepless nights. They may have family connections. They may just be that good. All of these people exist. You don’t know how they got their success, and you also know, or should know, that their success doesn’t diminish your own.

If this iceberg analogy is only cold comfort, good. It’s supposed to be. You comparing yourself is, in my view, a decent implication of wanting to be great. Now you know that, and knowing is half the battle. But as a good friend of mine once said, doing is the other half. If you want to do something great, go and do it. Or don’t, and keep doing whatever you do if you are happy with it, since that’s great enough. Greatness takes different forms and shapes and sizes.

But don’t waste your energy on resentment, and own your burdens. Nobody else has them, and they’re yours to carry until you’re strong enough not to notice them. And when you achieve greatness, be aware enough, as the girl in my story was, to help people find their way.

Editor’s note: If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.

It’s only a matter of time, or, The power of “when”.

I’ve always had bad luck with counting successes before they happen. That time I didn’t get a consulting position last summer was made much, much worse by my telling at least half my friends beforehand that I had it in the bag. This experience and others prompted me to declare a moratorium on pre-emptive bragging-nothing was said until whatever awesome thing was going to happen, had happened.

This little shift trickled down into the language I used. I started saying “if”, instead of “when”. The biggest example is the three or so months I spent saying “if” or “hopefully” regarding whether or not I’d get into business school. It felt good to be a bit more humble, and to know that I wasn’t tempting the universe to throw me a curveball.

This past week, I applied to be a mentee of Daniel Hill, a heavy-hitter in the field of communications. Among the three questions the application had, the last one struck me: “how are you going to change the world?”

The question implicitly assumes that you’re going make an impact, and that it’s only a matter of time. This wasn’t a place to use “if”. The ultimatum was simple: are you, or are you not, going to change the world?

For the first time in a long time, I wrote “when”. “When I change the world”.

And it felt good.

This wasn’t counting my chickens before they hatched. This wasn’t bragging. This was making a promise, to myself and anyone reading. “When I change the world.”

“When I change the world”, I’m going to be a great consultant, or a great entrepreneur, or both. I’m going to maintain a social conscience all the while. I’m going to go into politics. When I change the world, it won’t be as some lucky occurrence, something to attribute to a circumstance of “if”. It’ll be the product of 20 or 30 years of work and planning. I know it’s going to happen. It’s just a matter of time.

Now, some of you might consider saying “when” to be incredibly brash. Sometimes I think so too. But it demonstrates a powerful self-confidence that you can make these claims. Saying “when” is a promise. You don’t make many of them, but those you make, you keep. It’s on you to deliver, and as such, “when” is not something to be said lightly.

This is the situation I find myself in. I said “when I change the world”. I have to back it up.

As for how some employers would be perceive your usage of the word, it’s possible some might see it as arrogance. Others might see it as confidence, and give you a chance to back your words up.

In the case of this mentorship, my confidence worked. My application was accepted, and now I need to back my confidence up with action. By doing so, I’ll be changing myself, further improving my commitment to action. And by improving myself, I get one step closer to changing the world.

Editor’s note: If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.

That time I almost dropped out of business school, or, The need to be okay.

I had a high school accounting teacher who was phenomenal in a few ways. Highest among these was her uncanny ability to re-assure us with the simple phrase: “It’ll be okay”.

Part of it was that she was always right, so much so that when she went on maternity leave, several students actually recorded her saying it so they could hear it when her substitute took over. Accounting used to be so difficult, but we’d be okay because she said so.

Carrying those same accounting lessons forward, this past week was my first at one of Canada’s best business schools.  It did not start well.

It was one of those times where if I had recorded my life on paper, it should have equalled happiness. I should’ve been happy, even thrilled.

But, like the Swedish Olympic Hockey Team, it all looked good only on paper.

I was uncomfortable, and very, very afraid. I was out of my depth, having to prepare three business cases a night to be ready to participate and contribute in class the next day. Between the supplementary readings and doing the cases themselves, this amounted to an average of six hours of work a night, though it took me about nine.

Now, more than ever, I needed to know things would be okay.

People did their best to re-assure me. “First week is the hardest”, they said. “They kick your ass on purpose”, they said.

Well, the ass-kickers knew what they were doing. For the first time in a long time, I considered quitting. Or, as my mind eloquently rationalized it, “strategically withdrawing”. One more year of comfortable, safe, familiar political science. That’s all I needed.

As I crawled into bed past midnight for the third, or maybe the fourth time, I thought back to political science, my program for the past two years. It dawned on me that I loved political science, but I wasn’t scared of it any more. There was so much more to learn, but those volumes compared to what I needed to know to ace a course were like night and day. And when you stop being scared of something, you know that it’s time to move on, or at least take a break.

Business school was different. Yes I worked hard, for the first time in maybe a long time. But I loved it. I was scared every time I went into a class, but I raised my hand for better or worse because everyone is scared of looking stupid and the only way around it is to take the shot.

Thinking back on my accounting teacher and her advice, it wasn’t her saying it that made it true. She re-assured us about how great we already were. She knew we would be okay, because we’d make it so.

As I prepare to work and slog through my second week, I know it’s going to be rough. I know I’m going to be humbled, that I’ll probably sleep late and wake-up early, that I’ll again be challenged at every turn.

 And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

                                                                                                                                      

I wanted to apologize for not posting last week. I was in the midst of getting to know my new surroundings and also completely lacked wi-fi. On the plus side, I just had this piece published by the Canadian Youth Business Foundation! It’s called “The enriching unpaid internship”, and it’s basically the “my summer of internships” post that I promised you guys here. Thanks for sticking with me. C-Suite Dreams!

Editor’s note: If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.