Corporate life is like a rollercoaster. Except, instead of screaming for fun, you’re screaming internally while pretending to understand.

Chapter 1 - 2024: Benito Varela Any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Corporate life is like a rollercoaster. Except, instead of screaming for fun, you’re screaming internally while pretending to understand a ten-year financial model. And there I was, Benito Varela, the accidental strategist, armed with shaky assumptions, a half-finished Excel sheet, and a deep love for my family, which somehow had to pull me through.

One memorable day, I found myself in a meeting with the Global Financial Team. My task? Presenting a decade’s worth of financial projections. Ten years! Let’s be honest—how many of us can confidently plan next weekend? And yet, here I was, tasked with predicting market trends, revenue growth, and other variables I hadn’t even heard of until last week.

Have you ever walked into a room and felt like you were the least qualified person there? That was me, holding my laptop like it was a shield, stepping into a boardroom filled with Strategy Steves, Data Dans, and Persuasive Paulas. My nerves were as high as my non-existent grip on reality.

“Let’s get started,” said the CFO, his tone as sharp as the pie charts on the screen. I kicked off with a joke: “Predicting revenues in 2034 feels a lot like predicting next year’s vacation plans—ambitious, optimistic, and subject to change.” Polite chuckles rippled across the room. Victory! They were laughing with me, not at me at least for now.

The real test came with the Q&A session. Someone asked, “What’s your logic behind the 2030 revenue growth assumptions?” Have you ever felt your soul temporarily leave your body? My brain scrambled. The logic? It was somewhere between “a good guess” and “pure hope.” But instead of panicking, I smiled and said, “Well, the numbers, much like my confidence, are aspirational.”

And that’s when it hit me—this wasn’t just about numbers. It was about connecting. How many of them had been in my shoes, tasked with impossible forecasts, fighting impostor syndrome, and laughing their way through the chaos?

So, dear reader, let me ask you this:

• Have you ever stayed up all night tweaking a presentation only for no one to notice the fancy formatting?
• Have you ever nodded along in a meeting, hoping no one would ask for your input?
• Or, better yet, have you ever survived a moment of complete cluelessness by leaning into humor?

By the end of that meeting, I wasn’t the smartest guy in the room, but I was the most authentic. And as I walked out, I realized something: you don’t have to know it all. You just have to keep showing up. Because at the end of the day, I wasn’t working for pie charts or financial models. I was working for my family—the real reason I faced my fears.

So here’s the takeaway: laugh at yourself, ask questions, and embrace the chaos. Who knows? You might just turn that butter knife into a battle axe.

Benito Varela