I trust you’ve encountered impostors in your life. You know, the ones who take an assumed identity to deceive you one way or another.
The first time I felt like an impostor was in my early twenties in Business School.
I led one of the two competing teams – Echo Beach – in the elections for the school’s student office.
Student offices in French Business Schools are central to the school’s social life, organizing most activities and representing students with the administration.
In other words, it’s a lot of parties, booze, and extra curriculum duties, making you miss quite a few classes. Dedicated student office members rarely get the best grades!
The other team was so much more prepared than we were. Their organization was top-notch. They had shot a finely crafted promotional video clip. The administration in place supported them.
Yet, despite our amateurism, we won the election, and I became the President of the Office for one year. I guess we got more votes because we were funnier and could secure more bottles of Champagne during the election campaign.
But, shortly after the euphoria of victory had dissipated, the Impostor’s Syndrome hit me hard.
People had put their trust in us. But were we worth it? Did we deserve to win?
What if we failed to accomplish everything we had promised?
Did I have the competencies to lead the team?
I suddenly felt resourceless and like a fraud.
Like most people who experience impostor syndrome, I was about to keep all these questions to myself and be stuck with them.
Then, something fascinating happened.
As I casually talked about my insecurities with my then-girlfriend, I realized the power of speaking up.
So, I expanded the conversation with my team members. The more we talked about it, the more connection we found. It turned out we were all feeling the same way.
Sharing our insecurities diminished their devastating power. After all, we were not impostors. We deserved to win, and all we had to do now was to focus on getting the job done, step by step, milestone after milestone.
We made quite a few mistakes along the way. But we also started collecting daily wins, encouragements, and accolades.
One year later, as we closed our office assignment, I realized how much we had accomplished and grown thanks to our determination to march ahead.
Over the following decades, I often encountered these moments of doubt and looming Impostor Syndrome at work.
Yet, thanks to my student office experience, I consistently paused, shared my insecurities with trusted people, and moved ahead. I learned not to fear failure, confident that all these mini-daily accomplishments would add up eventually and bring recognition.
I know I’m not alone. So, next time you’re stuck feeling like an Impostor, remember to speak up and act on it. Trust and recognition will soon be on your horizon.