I got called out on my “swag”. Well, not just my swag but my clear and undeniable arrogance as a human being.
I recently did a problem design (aka problem and opportunity identification) session with a cool talent accelerator Fellowship in Kigali. Fifty switched-on young men and women who are being activated to create and launch wicked problem-solving ventures in East Africa.
At the end of the two days, one of the Kenyan women in the program made a confession. She said when she saw me walking toward the meeting room, she couldn't believe the hubris of this guy. In a t-shirt, Air Force 1s (or was it Jordans?), and African print pants? Spiky pseudo unkempt hair? Geared up and moving so casually like this was just another day, another walk in the park? How could I take this guy seriously? Where did they find this one?
Mchew.
She took an immediate dislike to me and came into the session with major attitude and skepticism written all over her vibe.
An hour into our time together, as she told it to a group of her fellow Fellows at the end of the two days, she had done a complete one-eighty. As in Vin Diesel fast and the furious style one eighty, sound and visual effects included. She was sold. She was converted. The gospel, according to The Chidi, was very good.
I’ve wondered about opportunities, people, and situations that eluded me because of my “swag”. How that first impression has gotten me written off. Not taken seriously. Like the West African billionaire, one of the richest women in Francophone Africa, who gave me the cold shoulder at a hugely successful event in NYC until the second day when her Oga Madam friend who was chatting with her called me over, gave me a warm hug (you know that “this is my guy” hug) and congratulated me on putting such a spectacular event.
“Oh, wait…you did this?”
That, and more, ma. That and more. Tested, approved, and trusted.
There's no real moral to the story. Just be you. Conformity be damned.
Happy Sunday.
Honey and the bees analogy