I had believed that meeting the Chief Executive Officer of the largest company in the world would mean something to me, that it would serve me well if I made myself distinguishable.
But when the time came to shake hands with him, I said nothing more than the usual introductions we all make. We shook hands, looked into each other’s eyes, then moved on.
A part of me hoped he would remember me from my time in college, when I was part of the program he graciously donated to and even had named after him. He congratulated me once before, and I had the pleasure of sitting next to him during a presentation. It was clear to me that he did not remember any of that, but I cannot fault him, for he meets and takes care of hundreds of people every day in his work—too many for one person to remember them all. I am just one of the many hundreds he has met in passing.
Yet, this was not the observation that struck me the most. No, instead, it was another observation I made about myself: that I felt no curiosity when meeting him once more.
What surprised me wasn’t that he didn’t remember me. What surprised me was that I felt no desire to remember him.
I had no inclination to ask him any questions because I genuinely felt like there was nothing I could ask him that would interest me. But how can that be? He is the leader of the largest company in the world, and I didn’t have the urge to ask him anything? Me? Someone who prides himself on being a curious person and asking too many questions?
In retrospect, however, it makes perfect sense. The life he leads does not fascinate me, despite how desirable it is to most.
The day I met him was the day I realized the conviction of the path I had already chosen long before. I know where I want to be and how to get there, and realizing this has given me a surge of confidence in how I act around others—what to say and not to say, how to act and not to act.
A few days later, my coworkers asked me what it was like to meet the CEO of the company we work for, and I genuinely couldn’t give them an exciting answer. I thought it was nice and I shared how fortunate I was to be given that opportunity, but I felt nothing more than helping a customer in need or meeting a homeless person across the street.
I suppose the best example of how I felt is the poem “If” by Rudyard Kipling, which offers advice on living a virtuous life.
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
I do not mean to exaggerate, but this was how I truly felt when meeting the leader of the largest company in the world. The entire experience served as a reminder to continue working on my humility and integrity, whether I interact with ordinary people or those of higher status. I believe this will serve me well in the near future.
In any case, the opportunity was enriching. I am fortunate to have learned a lot about myself and where I currently stand on the path I chose. There is still much left to give in this life of mine. And I must remind myself of the blessings I am given each day, to appreciate what I have now rather than what I do not, and the friendships I continue building as time passes.
Doing so, I feel, will bring me closer to what I truly need.