The Title of Incompetent

Once in a while, life slaps you in the face — one of those blows that comes unannounced and without apology. Just one word — said offhandedly, mid-conversation — can become a stone in your shoe, one you’ll carry for a lifetime. Incompetent. Sharp and straightforward, like a punch to the stomach.

You hear it, take a deep breath, and keep going like nothing happened. But the word lingers, hovering in your mind like a mosquito on a hot night. You try to shake it off with a casual “Don’t pay it any mind” or “It’ll pass,” but the truth is, it knocks you down in a quiet, insidious way. Keeping your head up and smiling as if it doesn’t hurt is often the only dignified response.

Then, you begin rummaging through your internal drawers. Am I, though? Is there something here I’m blind to that others see so clearly? You think of all the effort, the sleepless nights, the Saturdays sacrificed, the countless hours spent holding up the whole world to keep anything from falling. An incompetent person couldn’t endure that, couldn’t bear the life you lead. Or could they? Doubt creeps in — slowly, quietly — and makes itself at home.

But then night arrives — and night has this peculiar gift for restoring clarity. It’s when you realize that it’s not the word that defines you, nor the person who uttered it. After all, the world is full of people who cannot carry their frustrations and hastily offload them onto others as though they were gifts—a bitter sort of generosity.

So you breathe even more deeply as if exhaling the last of that poison from your chest. Tomorrow will bring more work, problems, words, and perhaps even more insults. But deep down, there is still a stubborn, quiet certainty that you know who you are and how far you can go. Life moves on because it must — and if there’s anything worse than being called incompetent, it’s believing it.

In my case, I was called incompetent because I refused the dirty cunning, the well-told lie, and the unethical shortcut my former boss proposed to me. And, on that point, I must admit: he’s absolutely right. I am, indeed, incompetent. Incompetent at being deceitful, immoral, and shameless. So, let the word stay with me. I’ll carry it without fear because there are defeats far more dignified than certain victories.