“I think he’s full of shit”
I’ll never forget those words.
I was sitting in a conference room in an office park in the suburbs of Milwaukee.
I left a great job for a new one. I was heavily recruited with a big pay raise. I was promised one role, but thrust into a new one after a company shakeup and VP out on maternity leave.
I dove into it, tripling client relationships and managing 60% of our company’s revenue.
I was crushing it.
When the supervisor came back 4 or 5 months later, they wanted to play some office games to recoup her spot (I have approximately zero patience for office politics).
We had a conference meeting to re-arrange responsibilities and catch everyone up on where things were at. Most of the team was in the room. She and another manager were remote.
As I laid out how I managed to scale things up, I laid out step by step what I had done, how we were being more efficient, making more money, and how clients were happier than ever
Skeptical, she asked a bunch of probing questions. I answered each one thoroughly, but unconventionally – surprise, surprise.
She nodded along, then, while still asking me questions, she wrote to the other employee on Skype:
I think he’s full of shit.
…Only she forgot that she was sharing her screen with the entire conference room.
Ah – zoom hiccups before zoom hiccups were a thing.
“ _____, Do you have something to tell me?” – I asked.
The mic went quiet, the windows minimized.
“ _____, Do you have something to tell me?” – I asked again.
I walked out.
The fire that I had the first year after quitting was unmatched. The sheer adrenaline rush put on by pure f*ck you energy.
“I think he’s full of shit”
I rode that to the first product launch and other sites I would start and kicked off maybe the most productive 2 year stretch of my life.
The f*ck you meter. Sometimes it runs low, you get complacent and it needs to be refilled. You’ve been lulled to sleep. Then something happens – and it wakes you the hell up.
- The job turns you down.
- The girl rejects you.
- Someone disrespects you.
Instead of bumming out on it. Use it to refill the meter.
That voice whispers:
I think he’s full of bull shit.
Don’t turn the page. Burn it.
Then let the fire fuel the next thing. And do the hell out of it.
A few years later, the VP reached out and apologized. I had let the incident go, but not the feeling:
- Being underestimated.
If you go too long without getting punched in the face, you forget what it’s like to be in a fight.
Getting punched wakes up you. It reminds you of who you are, what you can do, and what it’s like to be back in the fight.
So don’t shy away. Take the punch. Feel it. Really feel it. Let it fill the meter back up. Then punch back, and get back to fighting.