I’m talking about this because we don’t talk about it enough. We spend our lives discussing strategies, CVs, and technical systems, but we ignore the raw, messy psychology of the ego under pressure. I’m sharing this because I’ve realized we have to protect our energy from the gaslighting of those who mistake professional guidance for a personal attack. These interactions drain the very spirit we need to help those who are actually ready to grow.
The morning had been long, but the final appointment of the day brought a specific kind of tension. She didn't walk in with a loud presence; in fact, she seemed fragile, almost timid, as if something was fundamentally wrong. With her grey, unkempt hair and a shell-shocked expression, she looked less like a high-level expert and more like someone drowning in a world she no longer recognised.
She clutched a book on philosophy—a study of calm and reason—, yet she was vibrating with a sharp, defensive energy.
The Door and the Shell
Usually, I keep my office door open. I’ve lived too much life—from the boardrooms of the FTSE100 to the quiet desperation of a Jobcentre queue when my own health failed—to know that growth only happens in the light.
But as the session progressed and I started asking the necessary, strategic questions, the atmosphere shifted. She couldn't handle the exposure that comes with being questioned. In a sudden move, she reached out and shut the door on the people outside.
In that small, private square of the world, I watched her reach for the only thing she felt she had left: her status. It was a survival mechanism. She needed to shut people out so she could maintain the illusion that she was the only authority in the room, even while she was failing to navigate the task at hand.
The Mirror of Judgment
As a specialist contractor, I was brought in specifically for my expertise in the high-level systems she was struggling to navigate. But she didn’t see an expert. She saw an office, she saw a referral, and she assumed I was beneath her.
She muttered under her breath, looking away with total disengagement. When my questions forced her to look at the gap between her PhD and a paycheck, she snapped.
"No, I don't think you are judging me! Stop saying that!" The irony was, I hadn’t judged her. In fact, I had been careful to highlight what was good in her work before suggesting what was needed to meet the strict funding criteria of the UK market. But she was judging herself so harshly that she couldn't hear my voice through the noise of her own shame. She was projecting her internal battle onto me. She didn’t want a consultant; she wanted a savior. She wanted someone to "just do the work" for her, so she wouldn’t have to face the fear of being a beginner again.
The Entrepreneurial Trap
She told me she wanted to work with "big companies," yet she was stuck in a startup loop, using the wrong platforms and a dismissive attitude. She looked at me and said, "I create systems. You won't understand."
I sat there, looking at her experience, and realized I understood perfectly. I understood why she was exactly where she was. She was trying to force a square peg into a round hole, and when it didn't fit, she blamed the hole. To her, my expertise was an insult to her "cleverness." She was clutching a Paper Crown—a title that looked impressive but was completely flimsy in the face of the real-world results she lacked.
The Contrast of Real Power
In this work, I see the full spectrum of humanity. I think of clients who were former Directors at a global giant like AstraZeneca and led departments at Vodafone. She had reached the top of the mountain, yet she sat in my chair with total humility. She was a PhD who didn't need to wear it like a shield. She asked, "How can I learn? How do I adapt?". That is real power. Real experts don't need to shut the door to feel important. They don’t need to look down on the person holding the map.
The Epiphany
As I opened the door at the end of the session, I realized that many of us are searching for where we "fit" in the world, but we are looking in the wrong places.
Here is what the School of Life has taught me:
1. Ego is often just Fear in a suit. Her "nasty" energy wasn't because she was better than me; it was because she was terrified. She used her expertise as a wall because she didn't think she had any other value left.
2. You cannot outsource your soul. I can offer the fishing rod, the bait, and the map, but I cannot catch the fish for you. If you won't pick up the rod, you stay hungry.
3. Protect your energy. People in crisis will often gaslight you, claiming you are "judging" them when you are simply doing your job. Walk away from the people who refuse to be students; your time is better spent on the humble high-level professionals of the world. People gravitate to listen, learn, and support you.
4. Status is not a substitute for Character. You can be a master of "systems," but if you haven’t mastered the art of listening, you are still a novice.
I closed my notes and walked out into the evening air. I felt no weight from her judgment because I know my value. I am an expert in the human system—the one that requires humility, resilience, and the courage to be seen.
If you want to reach the next level, you have to be willing to put down the paper crown and pick up the work. The door is open. The question is: are you ready to walk through it?
The Career Confidante’s Final Thought: We are all equal in and outside the office. The only thing that separates us is our willingness to be honest with ourselves.
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