Illustration by Ruliff Andrean on Unsplash
I remember the first time I realized that I was an authority. I was running an engineering department at a computer systems design house. We’d had an informal gathering (I only had “meetings” when the company’s owner demanded them) and were talking about a project, and I tossed out some factoid about high-speed (kilobits, in those days!) data lines. Except I was wrong. I just misspoke about propagation rates or reflections or some such. I realized it later that evening when I was at home. I felt embarrassed, but didn’t otherwise think too much about it.
I didn’t see the engineering group for several days (I wore many hats). When I did, I had discovered that they had done a lot of work on our latest communications product based on my incorrect pronouncement. I hadn’t just made an embarrassing mistake, I had wasted a number of hours of valuable engineering time. I had reached a level of reputation and respect such that people took what I said uncritically and at face value. I felt so… responsible.
I escaped that when I transitioned into medicine and became a lowly student again. Eventually, though, I reached that point where I was a respected and admired DOCTOR and people uncritically accepted my advice and observations. I vowed to be extremely careful that I didn’t make costly mistakes.
Now I’m back to being an ordinary retired Joe, and can make observations without worrying that I’ll be taken too seriously.
—2p