Chinks in the Authenticity Mask - A Rant

If you read my article, Why Do Most “Mentors” Sound Like Wise Sages?, you might remember how we explored the allure of sage-like advice that often feels profound but doesn’t hold up when applied to real life. We broke down why mentors sound wise - clarity from the outside, abstract language, and the power dynamics of advice.

But the truth is, it’s not just mentors. It’s all of us. At some point, every one of us has said things we don’t fully believe or practice ourselves. We post things like, “Enjoy the journey,” yet obsess over titles and accolades. We say, “Focus on quality,” while cutting corners to save time. We advise, “Pay attention to customers,” even as we chase metrics that prioritize growth over genuine engagement. The dissonance between what we say and what we do is often glaring - but easy to ignore when we’re the ones doing it.

So why do we do this? Why do our words and actions sometimes feel so out of sync?

Why We Say Things We Don’t Mean

It’s human nature to want to sound virtuous, insightful, or wise. Especially in public. The internet has only amplified this tendency, giving everyone a microphone and an audience. But beneath this behavior are some very human tendencies:

• Virtue signaling: This is when we express opinions to show we’re on the “right” side of a moral or social issue. For example, someone might post about gender equality while holding deeply ingrained biases they don’t address in their daily actions. It’s not always malicious - sometimes, we genuinely aspire to those values. But aspiration isn’t the same as authenticity.
• Public compliance: Have you ever nodded along in a meeting even though you didn’t agree, just to fit in? That’s public compliance. On social media, it’s saying things that align with popular opinion, even if they don’t resonate deeply with us. It’s easier to agree publicly than to admit our imperfections.
• The “right thing” instinct: Sometimes, we say things that sound good simply because it’s what we’ve been taught to do. Phrases like, “Chase impact, not titles,” roll off the tongue because they’ve been repeated so often, they feel natural. But how many of us truly live by them?

Why This Disconnect Bothers Me

Here’s the thing: it’s easier to spot in others than in ourselves. We’ve all seen colleagues talk about teamwork while undercutting their peers. Or friends who preach work-life balance but burn out chasing career goals. It feels hypocritical because it is. And when it happens often, it chips away at our trust in those people.

But what about when we do it? It’s harder to catch because self-awareness takes effort. I’m guilty of it too. In my younger years, I’ve given advice I didn’t follow. I’ve said things that sounded good but weren’t grounded in reality. I didn’t see it at the time, but looking back, it was obvious.

How Can We Be More Authentic?

Here’s where I try to focus my energy now. These aren’t grand philosophical truths - they’re small, practical steps anyone can take:

1. Asking myself, “Do I live this?” Before giving advice or posting something, pause and reflect. Is this something I genuinely believe? Do I practice it in my own life? If not, why am I saying it? It’s better to admit you’re still figuring it out than to pretend you’ve got it all together.
2. Being specific and personal. Instead of vague statements like, “Focus on the process,” I share what that looks like for me. For instance, “I used to chase titles, but I realized I was happiest when I focused on building meaningful projects.” Specificity makes it easier for the other person to put it in the right local context.
3. Admitting my blind spots. None of us have all the answers, and that’s okay. If I’m sharing advice, I acknowledge where it might not apply. For example, “This worked for me, but I know your situation might be different.” It’s a simple way to avoid overgeneralizing.
4. Letting my past and actions speak. If there’s something that I value something, I try to illustrate it through anecdotal examples. If I can’t, I admit it.

An Example From My Life

Now that I’m older and have young people working with me, I often find myself in situations where they ask for advice - about work, relationships, or important decisions they’re grappling with. It’s a humbling position to be in because I don’t want to dish out generic advice that sounds good but lacks substance.

Last night, a person I know called to ask about a new job opportunity. The designation isn’t what they hoped for, they don’t know the pay package yet, and the work feels like a step-down from what they’re currently doing. Here’s what I told them:

"If this job is a better stepping stone to what you want to achieve 10 or 15 years from now, don’t worry too much about the designation. Titles are temporary; and considering how politically unstable the organization is, they would sooner or later get the designation they wanted. Don’t compromise on the salary - make sure it’s fair and at least at market standards - but don’t fret if it’s not a huge jump. As for the work itself, ask yourself: Is it something you can bear to do for the next 1-2 years while you focus on what this job leads to? Ultimately, that’s a question only you can answer."

But I didn’t stop there. I know that organization, and I know its culture. I told them bluntly, “Be aware of the red flags you’ll face there - fragile egos and a culture that might stifle you. Even if the opportunity seems promising, you need to be prepared for how that environment could impact your daily work and well-being.”

Does this sound like the kind of “sage advice” I often criticize? Sure, it does. But here’s why I stand by it: every piece of that advice is something I’ve lived.

As a youngster, I compromised on salary for the “promise of growth,” and it left me struggling to get fair remuneration later. I took roles that seemed exciting but took me off-course. I worked in organizations with unhealthy cultures and felt strangled from day one.

Everything I told this person came from those experiences - hard-earned lessons I had to navigate myself. And I didn’t present it as universal wisdom. I made it clear they needed to weigh my advice against their unique priorities and decide for themselves.

That’s the difference. Advice isn’t about how profound it sounds; it’s about whether it’s grounded in real experience and offered with the understanding that the person receiving it has the final say. Authenticity isn’t about sounding wise - it’s about being honest about what you know, what you’ve lived, and where your words come from.

Why I’m Writing This

Because I see inauthenticity everywhere. On social media, in meetings, in mentorship conversations. And while I give strangers the benefit of the doubt - maybe they do practice what they preach - it stings more when I know someone personally. It feels like they’re not just being inauthentic, but actively posturing for visibility or approval.

No Moral High Ground Here

I’m not claiming to be better. I’m just trying to be more aware. These days, when I say something that sounds philosophical or “wise,” I try to follow it with an example from my own life. I don’t always succeed. But I believe it’s worth the effort.

Because at the end of the day, authenticity isn’t about saying the right things. It’s about aligning your words with your actions, even if that means admitting your flaws. And if that means fewer “profound” posts and more honest conversations, so be it.