Years ago, in an interview for an analyst role, the hiring manager told me he expected me to be a leader. That confused me—I wasn’t interviewing for leadership, and frankly, didn’t aspire to climb some corporate ladder.
I must have said something right, though, because I got the job.
At 28, amidst a wave of fresh-faced college hires, I felt like a fossil. I was content to keep my head down and do good work. The company was on a torrid growth run, though, and I understood that sustaining that growth depended on developing more leaders. That just wasn’t going to be me. It would have to be some of these early-20-somethings that were just starting out.
A year in, I attended my first big company meeting. The energy was palpable. Dynamic speakers blended humor with vulnerability, talking passionately about leadership—not as a position, but as an act of service. They urged us to challenge teammates when needed, and support them when they struggled. They talked about Character and Purpose.
I was inspired. Ready to run through a wall. We all were.
Still, I couldn’t picture myself doing what they did. Leaders commanded rooms. They spoke with an authority and confidence. Made people see potential in themselves. They did it effortlessly.
That night, after the awards dinner, the conversations shifted from formal sessions to one-off discussions. I began to suspect this was the true value of these gatherings—not the content, but the connection. In many ways, the real meeting started when the formal meeting ended.
Around midnight, most had headed up to their rooms. I was about ready to turn in when I saw “that guy.” You know who I mean. Loud and sloppy. About to embarrass himself spectacularly. I nudged a colleague, expecting we’d enjoy the slow-motion train wreck together.
Instead, he made a beeline straight to “that guy.”
Tension rose, words exchanged. Just as things seemed they might escalate, my friend defused the situation with a joke, gently guiding the drunk colleague toward the elevator.
When my friend returned, I thanked him. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I should intervene. “Did you know that guy?”
“No,” he smiled, “but I’ve been that guy. And someone put me to bed.”
In that moment, I understood what that hiring manager meant. Leadership isn’t about titles, positions, or recognition. It’s not about strategy from 8-to-6. It’s about stepping up when it’s uncomfortable. It’s about paying forward the kindnesses we once received.
Leadership is about taking initiative and taking responsibility. For yourself and for those around you.
Back then, my instinct was to grab popcorn and watch someone crash and burn. Today, our instinct is often to grab a phone and film.
But imagine a world where we chose instead to step in, lend a hand, and quietly lead someone safely home. Imagine a world where we all recognized the power of servant leadership.
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