Yes, the claps were from the CEO at Medium — no play of words here.
I’ve a screenshot, in case you’re curious… or doubtful.

It was 12:24 a.m. on August 12th, just past the midnight.

I was making tea, a plot for a short story brewing in my mind. I have this odd habit — when I make tea, I stay beside the pot the whole time it boils, waiting for that perfect blend: not too milky, not too dark.

So there I was, staring at my tea, when my phone pinged with a Medium app notification.

At first, I assumed it was a “Top story for you” alert — the one that insists on broadening my perspective by slipping in stories I’d never voluntarily click.

I let it sit until my tea was ready.

Hot cup in hand, I glanced at the notifications — and froze.

“Tony Stubblebine clapped…”

Wait. The Tony Stubblebine?

In the next 2.5 seconds, it hit me.
The CEO of Medium had clapped… for something I wrote!

How would you feel if Elon Musk liked one of your tweets?
Or if Sundar Pichai replied to your Gmail?

Yep — it was that feeling.

I tapped the notification, expecting it to be for one of my stories.
But no — it was for a comment I had left.

Turns out, there was a lesson tucked away in that.

It wasn’t my story that caught the CEO’s attention.
It was my take on a new Medium feature — a comment I’d left on a story from another author.

And that’s where the lesson was:

Our comments matter just as much as our stories.

Leaders like him see thousands of posts every week, their engagement is conscious. Those claps told me thoughtful comments get noticed — even from the very top.

The reward for writing isn’t going viral. It’s knowing your words found their way to the right person.

So, next time you read a story that resonates with you, take a moment to leave a thoughtful comment.

It tells the author: your words connected with me.
It gives other readers a reason to see you.

And, who knows?
Perhaps the right pair of eyes — the ones it was meant for — will see it.

I once signed up for a mindful meditation session — because many said “It’s life-changing”.

The whole time, sitting cross-legged, with pain in my lower back, I was busy wondering if my paycheck had hit my account.

The session ended after 45 minutes. I felt relief — not from enlightenment, but because it was over.

Or so I thought.

But, the trainer had a weird smile — the one in horror movies before the lights go out — and his eyes said, “Buckle up! We’re just getting started”.

The volunteers entered carrying plates of grapes. As they moved through the audience, my wandering mind instantly was in the present moment— because I was hungry.

“Pick one grape, and don’t eat it yet.”
Just one? I had paid ten bucks for this, you know?

“Just look at it — its shape, its color. Feel the texture. Imagine the energy inside it…”

I was stuck at the “shape” stage — they handed me a smaller one — maybe my karma?

“Now put it in your mouth…”, I felt a surge of joy within — until…

“Don’t chew it. Just let it be there.”

I truly believe this technique would get confessions out of people who haven’t even committed a crime.

“Now chew it… slowly… feel the juice…taste the sweetness… the sourness…”

Too late. Mine was already in before he said “slowly”. For the next three minutes, I was chewing an imaginary grape.

Finally, grape torture was over.
That’s when the real show began.

The “spiritual leader” took the stage.

I honestly wanted to abscond, but the exit was guarded by two giants — men who looked like they’d been let out on parole for good behavior. I decided to stay where I was.

Then the leader spoke.

“Me is sitting as me, in you. These two are talking to each other. I can only talk to me. I cannot talk to anybody else.”

I felt a migraine awakening. I glanced around, and everyone but me appeared to understand it.

“So the me, residing in me as me, is residing in all of you as me, so this me, through that me, is talking to me.”

For some reason, everyone clapped.

And the me inside me, transcended beyond the urge for spirituality — once and for all.

Shivering on the frosty bench, she pulled her thin coat tighter against the icy wind, her bare hands red and raw.

The neon display flickered above her:
Bus #47–Delayed.
Arriving in 3 minutes.

She sighed.

Meera had moved to this icy northern city just yesterday for a job. No one had warned her about the sudden snow bursts — this much, this wild. She regretted wearing an outfit meant for a mild winter drizzle.

Then, she saw him — rushing to the bus stop.

Sam.

She froze. Her pulse drummed in her ears, and heat rushed to her face, reminding her of his betrayal**!

Eight months… Eight months since she walked in on him and her best friend tangled in the sheets — her sheets — when she showed up early from a weekend trip. Yet the hurt of betrayal returned, like a migraine in the glare.

She looked away. But it was too late. He’d seen her.

He slowed, eyes narrowed, then he shrugged as she was clearly avoiding him.

The air was tense, the kind of silence that shatters with a single word. He reached into his coat for a cigarette — but just then, he saw the bus pulling in.

They climbed aboard. The bus was almost full — only a row with two seats was empty.

“Go ahead, I’ll stand,” he offered.

She didn’t bother acknowledging him and headed straight for it.

He stood by the pole, but the driver, irritated by the storm and icy roads, barked from the front,

“No standing allowed! Take a seat or step off, sir!”

“Fantastic!” He threw his hands in the air and slid into the seat beside her.
They both stared out opposite windows.

A few minutes passed in awkward silence. He couldn’t stand it anymore,

“How are you?”

She turned sharply, “Why do you care?”

He lifted his palms, backing down to keep the peace. But she continued,

“You really have the guts to talk like nothing happened?… after what I saw?”

His head tipped back slightly, eyebrows lifting.

“You saw? No, your highness — I saw. You were in the kitchen, laughing in lingerie… and he was buttoning his shirt.”

Her eyes widened.

“What are you even saying? Do you hear yourself? Or have you completely lost it, Sam?!”

His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing, “Who’s Sam?”

“What do you mean, who’s Sam? That’s you — who else… Sam?”

“I’m Nathan. You remember me, don’t you, Ms. Rita?”

“Who’s Rita?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Wait — aren’t you Sam?”

“No! I’m Nathan. Here’s my card.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.
She studied it for a moment.

His eyes narrowed, “Aren’t you Rita?”
She shook her head.

They stared at each other — then burst out laughing.

“Maybe the universe,” she said through giggles, “wanted to play a cosmic joke.”

He nodded, “You look exactly like my ex. I’ve heard there are seven people in the world who look alike, but this… this is beyond anything I imagined.”

“Totally! I can’t believe we look exactly like each other’s exes — this is mind-boggling!”

The bus screeched to a halt. They both reached for the railing, and her hand landed on his. They both froze for a beat. She pulled it away slowly.

“That’s my stop,” he said, stepping off with a wink. “Bye, Ms. Almost-Ex.”

She watched him vanish into the snowfall.
Her smile lingered a little longer.

And then she noticed the card in her hand.
Nathan Reynolds Graphic Designer
(555) 019–4726

The smile returned to her lips.

Maybe the universe wasn’t done with its quirks.
Maybe… it was just getting started.

I wish I knew this when I started writing on Medium. But I learned it the hard way.

I hope this story makes someone else’s journey a little easier.

Because, here’s the hard truth: Within the first 6–12 months, nearly 90% of new writers give up.†

And, I could have been one of them.

I had spent weeks writing my first story, carefully crafting the title, flow, and images.
The story was a reflection on my 20+ years as a software engineer.

Then… silence. No claps. No comments.

Today, that story has:

• 21 claps — all from a single kind reader (thank you!)

• 0 comments

• $0.03 in lifetime earnings

It was disheartening. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

That silence forced me to reflect.
I kept writing, but now carrying a question with me: What’s missing?

That journey led me to many insights — I’ve listed them at the end.
But one realization that changed everything for me was:

Not to plant the flag before I’ve found the land.

When I joined Medium, I asked myself, “What should I write about?”
I reflected on my life and chose what I knew: tech careers and financial progress.

I made that decision before I started writing.
I planted the flag before I’d found the land.

And when those stories didn’t get any love, I started doubting myself.
Maybe I’m not cut out to be a writer?

The problem wasn’t my writing.
The problem was the box I put myself in — a self-imposed limit on what I should write about.

Once I saw it, I decided to get out of that box — and write freely.

I gave myself permission to explore.

I started writing stories across genres, topics and themes: Fiction, non-fiction, crime, love, drama, personalities, personal growth—I even tried humor.

I paid attention. To what resonated with readers — and what felt fulfilling to me while writing.

Before long, that overlap revealed itself: short stories.

Now, I focus on short stories — not bound to any specific genre and still open to exploring beyond them.

What Happened Next?

• One story featured as a Top Story on a popular Medium publication.

• Others received hundreds of reads and claps, and comments.

• Within weeks, I crossed 100+ engaged followers, without any gimmicks.

If short stories are your kind of thing too, join me on Substack at Short Escapes
And get the short stories delivered straight to your inbox.

Five More Lessons I Learned So Far

• Avoid the trap of clap-for-clap and follow-for-follow.
  What sticks is real engagement.

• Read widely and intentionally — both popular and new writers, across genres.
  That’s where learning happens.

• Engage with fellow writers. Clap, comment, and follow what resonates with you.
  What goes around, comes around.

• Find publications that make you feel at home: publish stories there, join writing challenges.
  It’s the most natural way to reach your readers.

• Revisit your own writing. Read it days later — as a reader, not a writer.
  That’s when the growth happens.

I wish you the best — my fellow writers! Let’s keep learning, growing, and writing — together.

†Medium does not publish official statistics on writer attrition. Available data is anecdotal: source

It wasn’t love at first sight. Their first meeting felt like a performance — he was making sure his biceps showed beneath perfectly arranged sleeves, while she angled her smile just right so he didn’t miss her dimples.

It was a typical arranged marriage setup — matched through bio-data and married under parental guidance.

Yet, they fell in love — unaware of what destiny had in store.

They shared their hearts over morning coffee…
He gently kissed her forehead when came home late from work, thinking she was asleep…
She quietly closed the bedroom door each morning so he could sleep a little longer…

And, when everything felt perfect, life turned it all upside down.

That day, he came home early — a small velvet box hidden in his pocket, a promotion letter tucked in his bag. All the way, he pictured her face when he shared the news: the sparkle in her eyes, the laughter with her dimples.

But the home was silent except for the distant hum of the bathroom’s exhaust fan. He placed his phone on the shelf, hit record, and angled it toward the bathroom door — eager to capture her reaction to the surprise he had for her.

“This will be a memory,” he whispered to himself.

Moments later, she stepped out.
She was surprised to see him waiting there, but he noticed the trace of tears in her eyes — she had been crying inside.

He rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into him as if she had been waiting for him for hours.

He felt the depth of her sadness.
He stayed silent, giving her the space to gather herself.
She let her tears spill onto his shoulder, clinging to him.

Then, in a fragile voice, she said,

“I’m sorry to break your heart… I hate to bring pain to the man I love. But I need you to hear me…”

She had been diagnosed with cancer just a few hours earlier.

The doctor’s words still echoed in her mind:

“It’s spread everywhere. There’s nothing we can do. It’s time to accept what’s coming and find closure. You have a few weeks… a month at most.”

That day, all their plans, all their dreams were shattered like fragile glass.

Hospital visits became routine. Hope rose and fell with every test result. And then, five weeks later, the fight ended. Her side of the bed went cold forever.

He tried everything to stitch himself back together, but the house was filled with her absence. Grief clung to him like a shadow through days and nights.

But love always finds a way to give strength, magically.

One lonely night, he was scrolling through the photo gallery on his phone — fragments of a life he once shared with her. He paused at the video — the one recorded on that evening, when he had planned to surprise her.

He tapped play on the video, but suddenly all the sadness of that moment crashed over him.

He threw away his phone.

He rushed into the bathroom, opened the drawer, and pulled out a razor blade. He stared at his wrist, trembling.

And then… he heard her voice…

“I’m sorry to break your heart… I hate to bring pain to the man I love. But I need you to hear me…”

He froze.

From the corner of the bedroom, his phone screen was glowing — it was playing that recorded video.

“I will always be with you. I will never be happy if my absence becomes your weakness. Every time you choose happiness, I will feel it too.*”*

He wept like a child — for the first time since she had passed away.

The blade slipped from his fingers to the floor.

That night, he didn’t die.

He lived, carrying her voice like an anchor to life.

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I remember the night when my fortune had vanished in thin air.

A few years ago, out of curiosity, I bought a few bitcoins — they were cheap back then.

To store them safely, I created a digital wallet using an app. It gave me a seed phrase: twelve random words that act as the master key to the wallet. Anyone with those words can access my bitcoins, so that seed phrase must be kept secret.

I wrote the seed phrase on a piece of paper and snapped a photo with my phone.

But I never uploaded that photo anywhere — not to Google Drive, not to iCloud. I’d heard the stories of hackers breaking into cloud accounts. One leak, one hacker, and all my bitcoins could be gone.

And, that was my first mistake.

That photo stayed on my phone as a forgotten secret for years — until the day I upgraded my phone.

I have this irresistible urge to start fresh whenever I get a new device, so I set it up from scratch with no data carried over from the old phone.

“The important stuff is already in the cloud, right?” I assured myself.

And, this was my second mistake.

Then came December 2017 — the month Bitcoin made its biggest leap. A single coin hit $20,000! Suddenly, everyone was talking about Bitcoin — even my uncle, who calls every app a “website”.

I remembered that I owned a few bitcoins. But my stomach sank as the truth hit me: the photo of my wallet seed was gone. My Bitcoin wallet, then worth hundreds of thousands, was locked in a digital vault I could no longer open.

What followed were the days of guilt and frustration — giving way to an obsession to recover that photo from my old phone. I scoured countless how‑to articles and YouTube videos titled “Try this if nothing else works” — But nothing worked.

I was shattered. I could’ve been surfing in the Bahamas instead of typing a status email to my manager — the one who began every sentence with, “Let’s not compare apples to oranges.”

Eventually, I surrendered to the truth: nothing in life arrives before its time… I stopped trying.

I stopped checking Bitcoin prices and started upvoting comments on Reddit that said “Bitcoin is a scam”.

Fast forward to July 2025: Bitcoin soared to heights the world had never seen.

And then, something unexpected happened!

The kids were on summer break, and our dinner time had turned into a hub for a “family project” ideas. The winning idea was converting the storeroom into a cozy reading nook.

I honestly wasn’t thrilled to spend my time-off sorting through years of dust. But I didn’t have much of a say, so I chose to enjoy the process.

I started with an old box of toys.

Inside that box, I found my daughter’s old Polaroid camera. She used to love taking random pictures back then — everything from the dog’s nose to her half‑eaten breakfast.

Out of nostalgia — and partly to escape the cleaning — I began flipping through the stack of instant photos.

And there it was!

A blurry photo my daughter had taken years ago showed my coffee mug. Off to the side, on my desk, lay a sheet of paper with twelve handwritten words — the seed phrase I had written back then. The same one in the photo I had lost when I upgraded my phone. And, by pure luck, my daughter had unknowingly captured it in this random shot!

The words in this photo were out of focus, but I was already a seasoned pro at finding how‑to articles and YouTube tutorials to make them readable.

To my shock, Bitcoin’s price had climbed to unimaginable heights, surpassing $100,000 per coin!

And just like that, millions in Bitcoin returned to me — rescued not by a cutting-edge technology, but by a child’s random act of curiosity!

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Real life turns into a saga when love touches it. When he first saw her, it felt like a dream — her beauty pure as rain‑washed leaves, perfect without a touch of makeup.

Her skin was soft and glowing with warmth. Her eyes were serene, as if hiding a secret. Her dark hair fell gently around the oval of her face, eyebrows arched with grace, and delicate nose where the tiny stud found its elegance.

The kind of beauty you glimpse once and remember forever.

He couldn’t believe she invited him to sit beside her — when everyone else always pushed him away.

That day, when he had walked into the classroom, he stumbled over a foot deliberately stuck in his path and dropped his books. Everyone laughed. He gathered his books and scanned the room for a place to hide from those stares.

That’s when he saw her and, without a single word, she invited him to sit beside her.

He was clumsy and shy, always avoiding eye contact. He lived in the company of books rather than people. His talent invited envy and made him everyone’s favorite target.

She arrived at the high school, mid‑term, to finish her senior year. She was an outsider in a world already in motion. She saw a boy, whom everyone teased and laughed at, searching for a friendly hand.

That moment became the start of a friendship that would grow into their closest bond.

They began studying together, and soon their worlds intertwined. She was impressed by his talent, and he felt joy when her eyes lit up after he explained something complex.

They walked through tree‑lined paths to their hidden spots where they sat together for hours—far from the crowd and noise. She talked about anything under the sun, and he listened with his heart. In that comfort, their friendship became its own small world.

Days passed, and the school year came to an end.

Life was ready to pull them onto different paths after graduation. On their last afternoon together, he finally gathered the courage to open his heart to her.

She hesitated…

“I’ve always seen you as a friend.”

He understood his place. He forced a smile, swallowing the lump in his throat, and pushed his tears back.

Years passed.

She married a confident, successful man. Together, they climbed the ladders — bigger houses, fancier cars, lavish trips. On Instagram, they were the happiest couple alive. But in quiet evenings, she still remembered him —his eyes in that last moment they shared.

One day, they were on a cliffside road in Santorini — one of those picture‑perfect vacations. Her husband drove with one hand, the other occasionally lifting his phone to capture the view.

The road curved sharply. A flash of sunlight off the water blinded him for a heartbeat. Tires screeched against the edge of the cliff.

When she opened her eyes in the hospital, the world was dark. Her husband recovered in a few weeks, but the accident had left her blind with severe damage to her corneas and optic nerves.

With her husband by her side, she chased every hope — doctors, specialists, treatments. Weeks blurred into months of waiting, each day heavier than the last.

Then, one afternoon, the doctor walked in with a smile and said,

“We have a cornea available for transplant.”

For the first time in months, she felt alive.

The surgery was delicate and slow, but when the bandages were finally removed, a faint blur of light broke through her darkness. She let her tears spill. The world she thought she had lost forever had returned — like a second life.

A few days later, she wrote a thank‑you letter to the donor’s family through the eye bank. To her surprise, they invited her to their home, hoping to hear how she saw the world through their son’s eyes.

She stepped into his room — and found herself everywhere without her photo or name anywhere. Gifts, sketches, poems — all whispered memories of those moments from the school years ago.

On his desk lay a worn diary. She turned to the last page. There, in his familiar handwriting, a single line was written.

“I hope one day she will see my love the way I see it.”

And in that moment, through his eyes, she did.

Author’s Note

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“Never step into the backyard cottage alone.”

“What’s there?”

“Granny lives there. But something’s… off with her. If she sees anything out of place, it sets her off. And she can hurt you. Real bad.”

“No way. Grandmas don’t hurt their grandkids. You’re just freaking me out.”

“Have you met her?”

“No… it’s my first time visiting, remember?”

“Then listen to me.”

“No way!”

“Fine. But there’s something you should know… about last year.”

“What happened last year?”

“Remember Sara?… She was like you. Didn’t listen to us.”

“Okay… I’m listening now.”

“She’s dead.”

“What?! What happened to her?”

“No one knows for sure. But they found her body outside the cottage…”

“That’s… that’s awful. But how can a grandma hurt her own grandchild?”

“We don’t ask that anymore. We just follow the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Every night, we leave her a fruit. We never miss. If we ever do… she will come into the house.”

“That’s… strange.”

“One of the grown-ups handles it. But kids are not supposed to go near that place. Got it?”

“…Got it.”

That backyard cottage isn’t a creepy family story.
It’s the image of God I inherited — one I didn’t want.

I grew up with the idea of an angry, greedy God who lived in a corner of my life like that “granny in the cottage.”

A God who got angry if I didn’t perform the rituals as told.
A God who demanded offerings like fruits, flowers, or money.

The message was clear: Follow the rules. Or you’ll be hurt.

But as I grew older, I couldn’t suppress the questions:

How could a God who embodies all that is good and holy be so short‑tempered — offended just because I skipped a ritual?

How could the One who created the entire universe be pleased by something as small as my offering of a fruit?

Later in life, when I found myself in places that worshipped different Gods with different rituals, that lingering doubt grew louder:

Would a just God punish me for not following a ritual, while turning a blind eye to those who never knew such rituals existed?

Maybe it was God…
Maybe it was the echo of my questions reaching out into the universe…

One day, I stumbled upon a famous book — A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. That book became the antidote to my confusion about God.

As I turned its pages, I felt the insignificance of our world against the unfathomable vastness of the universe, and I caught glimpses of the mysteries behind its creation and its intricate workings.

With that realization, the image of God in my mind transcended to another level. The petty notions I had— the rituals, the appeasement — all dissolved.

Along the way, I met others who saw God as I did, and every conversation with them strengthened my confidence in my understanding of God.

The God who knows my true intentions.
Because the universe speaks through the subconscious.

Everything else belongs in the backyard cottage.

Author’s Note

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If there were an election for the most popular comment on Medium, the winner — by a landslide — will be:

Ready?
Drumroll…

“Thank you for sharing this!”

And the best part?
You don’t have to read the story. It still works.

If the story is good, “this” in this comment means the actual story.
Other times, it refers to the one from “what the f\** is **this**\?”* — and your comment turns into sarcasm gold.

Either way, you’re good.

Pro tip: Want bonus points? Pretend you read the story.
How? — Highlight the last sentence of the story and drop this comment as a response to that!

You may get a heartfelt reply from the author… I have replied, so it’s true.

By the way, in case you’re wondering, runner-up goes to “Insightful!”

Anyway, that’s not really what this story is about.

I started writing on Medium exactly five weeks ago — and in this probationary tenure, one thing stood out above all else:

With AI:
Writers became Editors.
Editors became Censors.
Readers became Detectives.

Writers used to stare at blank pages in Starbucks — spending more than their earnings. Now they’ve outsourced that to ChatGPT — which doesn’t ask for expensive coffee.

Instead of writing, writers now edit — scrubbing the AI’s DNA from the draft.

Not that they care much. Honestly, the draft was more readable.
But the editors made them do it.

Editors now geek out with ZeroGPT, NoGPT, F***GPT, and the tools only they know — to censor AI fingerprints.

Again, they wouldn’t care either (same reason as writers), but I heard someone started this anti-AI crusade here. And editors are now on hook apparently — or the algorithm gets vengeful.

These two were forced transformations — maybe unreasonable, maybe not, but understandable.

But what about readers?
They’ve voluntarily taken on the role of detectives as unpaid overtime.

“I don’t want to pay to read AI-generated content.”

This was the 11th commandment I believe.

Now they look for clues, armed with those 93 cursed words like Furthermore, Navigate, and of course — the infamous em dash.

They get a dopamine hit when they spot one — then rush to the nearest library to read “real” books, boycotting the internet for a full 3 hours!

Author’s Note

If you’re offended, I apologize — please know that it was ChatGPT who made me do this, I swear.

But if you enjoyed it, congratulations! You’re now eligible to become an early subscriber — hundreds have secured their spot, and registration closes in the next 2 hours!

The courtroom was tense.

Judge Harold Wilcox — a man in his fifties, with a sharp voice and the build of a retired wrestler — adjusted his glasses and leaned forward. He’d presided over countless trials, but few drew this much scrutiny. Dabbing the sweat from his forehead, he took a sip from his glass of water.

The jury was seated — ten randomly selected people from different walks of life.

A woman was dead. A wife. A soon-to-be mother.

And the man on trial? Her husband.

Daniel Raynor — the husband — sat at the defendant’s table with a hollow stare. He hadn’t slept peacefully since the night he found her lying on the kitchen floor.

His eyes looked exhausted, from the kind of tears that come in waves — stirred by the memories of a loved one… their smile, their voice, some small, ordinary thing they used to do.

The room was packed. The media had covered the story like a restless hawk.

Three weeks earlier, Melissa Raynor became a headline. Found on her kitchen floor in a pool of blood. One clean stab to the abdomen. No signs of forced entry. No defensive wounds.

And the kitchen knife was missing.

It was the prosecution’s star witness who provided the first solid lead.

“I saw a man leave their house around midnight,” said neighbor Greg Milner.

This matched the coroner’s estimated time of death: between midnight and 1 AM.

“Middle-aged. Big guy, broad shoulders. Didn’t see his face, but he moved like he knew the place.”

He described Daniel without describing him.

The defendant’s main witness was Tara Levin — the victim’s friend and trainer.

She repeatedly insisted that Melissa and Daniel were happily married.

Until, the prosecution’s cross uncovered that Tara and Daniel knew each other from childhood — way before she met Melissa.

And then poked a hole into her portrayal of the happy marriage…

“Did Melissa ever mention Daniel acting violently?”

Tara looked at Daniel — as if asking for the right answer.

“Ms. Levin?”

“Yes… she said he hit her. Once.”

The cross-examination raised reasonable doubts in her testimony — and credibility.

On the following days, many witnesses were called upon to testify. Each one built the prosecution’s case stronger.

The coroner confirmed that someone with Daniel’s physique was capable of inflicting such a fatal wound.

Former co-workers spoke of his temper, his mood swings, and the way he appeared possessive whenever Melissa’s name came up.

On the fourth day of the trial — when the jury appeared to have already made up their minds — the defense made a shocking move!

“Defense calls Mr. Daniel Raynor to the witness box.”

The defense lawyer’s face said it all — this wasn’t a strategy, it was a forced move by the accused himself.

The jury gasped, and the courtroom erupted in whispers.

“Order! Order!” — Judge Wilcox slammed his gavel to restore silence.

Daniel stepped into the witness box.
The defense stepped forward for examination.

“Please state your name and relationship with the victim, for the record.”

“I’m Daniel Raynor. Melissa is… was my wife.”

Grief looks different on everyone. On Daniel, it wore a restrained shade — like doing its best to hold him together.

“How would you describe your marriage, Mr. Raynor?”

“I loved her. She was the only one who didn’t make me feel like a loser. We were married for 12 years. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

Daniel looked down — pushed back tears, and regained his composure.

The defense continued, “I know this is a difficult time for you, but for the jury’s knowledge — where were you on the night of the murder before returning home?”

“I was working late that night. I had called in to let her know that I would be coming back in the morning. But I couldn’t focus, so I decided to leave and reached home an hour past midnight…”

Daniel’s voice was shaking as if he were standing there again.

“The door was unlocked. First, I thought someone had broken in. I panicked and rushed inside, and then I saw her… lying on the floor… lifeless… blood all over. I didn’t believe myself… I didn’t want to.”

Daniel turned his face down, covered in his hands, sobbing quietly, but the subtle shaking of his shoulders gave it away.

Jurors looked doubtful, as if they were trying to decide if it was grief or guilt.

“Did you kill your wife?”

“No! I would never hurt her. She was the love of my life… she was my life.”

Two jurors shifted in their seats — appeared unsettled.

“No more questions, Milord,” the defense rested.

“Mr. Raynor, did you know your wife was carrying someone else’s child?”

The prosecution struck right where it hurt.

Daniel didn’t respond. He appeared defeated, looking at the helpless defense lawyer.

“Mr. Raynor, answer the question. Yes or No?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Have you ever hit your wife?”

Daniel’s voice turned sharp for the first time.

“Yes, we fought. Yes, I was angry. But I never… never laid a hand on her after that one time. She threatened to leave, but I begged her not to.”

“Mr. Raynor, just a yes or no was sufficient.”

The prosecution continued, “Why didn’t you call 911 immediately? You waited 2 hours before making the call.”

“I was shocked… I didn’t want to believe it…”

“That was two hours, Mr. Raynor. Plenty of time to clean up… even hide a weapon. Why did you wait that long?”

“Objection! Asked and answered.”

“Overruled,” Judge Wilcox said coldly. “He can answer.”

“I… was hoping it was a nightmare and it would get over if I just waited. I was hoping to wake up feeling that relief —like it was all just a terrible dream.”

The prosecutor looked at Daniel, studying him like a human lie detector.

“Mr. Raynor, can you recall what time you left your work that night?”

“Ah… I don’t remember the exact time. Maybe at midnight?”

“No, Mr. Raynor, you left at 11:37 PM. The security camera footage proves it. It takes no more than 20 minutes to reach your home. That means you must have reached home right before midnight.”

Jurors noted it in their writing pads.

“No, I had checked the time before stepping out from my car at home, it was almost 1 AM…”

Daniel hesitated as if caught between staying silent and telling the truth…

“I know you are not going to believe me. But I stopped on my way home at a corner… I had left home that day on a bad note, so I was trying to pull myself together. I had a couple of cigarettes… if I hadn’t stopped, I could have saved her. I hate myself for it.”

“That’s very convenient, isn’t it, Mr. Raynor?”

The prosecutor paused for a moment — just long enough for the tension to settle — before delivering his next blow.

“You reached home right before midnight, you apologized for the morning, but she had decided to leave you. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t control yourself from that humiliation… You killed her in that rage. Yes or No?”

“Objection! Badgering!” the defense stood up.

“Sustained. Mr. Raynor, you don’t have to answer it.”.

The judge reprimanded the prosecution and requested the jury to disregard the remark.

“My apologies, your honor. No more questions.”

But the words had already reached the jury— no instruction could unhear them.

Jurors exchanged glances.

“Guilty!”

The unanimous verdict from the jury arrived in less than an hour.

Daniel looked around the courtroom like a drowning man — trying to find one pair of eyes that still believed him.

Tara let her tears roll down when her eyes met Daniel’s gaze and whispered to herself, “She told me you loved her. Even with everything that happened, she knew you loved her.”

Judge Wilcox’s gavel came down. “Court is adjourned.”

Back in his chamber, the judge removed his robe with care.

He poured himself a drink with shaking hands.

He then reached down and unlocked a desk drawer.

Inside, wrapped in a handkerchief, was a bloodstained kitchen knife.

His eyes lingered on it.

She had told him that night — the truth he couldn’t afford.

He had begged her. Pleaded. But she wouldn’t listen.

It would’ve destroyed everything.

He closed the drawer.

And locked it.

Author’s Note

If you find this story resonating, consider subscribing to receive future stories straight to your inbox.

You know the type, we’ll do.

First to stand when the plane lands, closest spot facing the tour guide, front and center in all photos — whether it’s a baby shower or a funeral.

Unbearably irritating.

But behind that pushiness was a story I never expected.

It goes back to my college days.
There was one in the dorms who never shied away from racing to the prime spot — for everything. Annoyed as we were, the rest of us still got a good laugh, vividly mimicking his antics behind his back.

Then, one day, it all changed — for me.

It was a Saturday evening, and I was minding my own business — sipping from a smuggled beer at a campus hideout. He walked in by accident, holding one in his hand. We barely knew each other, but my private rumination quickly turned into a drinking-with-a-buddy ritual.

Since, I’d long contemplated what could possibly drive his behavior, half bottle in, I had courage to ask him directly.

“Why the fuck you’re like this?”

He didn’t understand where I was coming from.

Reading out a few case files with indisputable facts cleared the matter.

Then, what he said next changed everything — the way I saw him, how quickly I judged people, and how blind I’d been to the silent weight others might carry.

The Story Behind That Pushiness

This was eight years ago. He was twelve. She was seven — his little sister. He loved her more than anything. She was the only one who made him feel like a hero.

Every afternoon, she’d be waiting for him outside her school gate —one hand always holding onto a Barbie doll like it was sacred.

She was crazy about barbie then — a couple of years ago, it was dinosaurs. Now her world was made of glitter and plastic heels.

That winter, he secretly peeked into her Letter to Santa when she was asleep hugging a Ballerina Barbie.

“Dear Santa, I don’t want new doll this year. I want to go to Big Barbie party. Please please please”

That big event was set for the day after Christmas. Tickets would go on sale in two days.

That morning, he skipped school and boarded a train downtown to make her secret wish come true.

The ticket booth was swarmed — impatient parents yelling. Elbows flying. He stood there for a long time… hesitant.

Then he turned around. Empty handed.

That Christmas Eve she cried for hours.

“There’s always the next Christmas, right? I’ll take you next year,” he wiped her tears.

She believed him with teary but hopeful eyes.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he lied.

Spring came. Then summer. Then something changed.

It started with a cough that wouldn’t stop.

The pneumonia was sudden. She was so small in that bed, surrounded by big machines.

She still believed in his promise… till her last day.
And he hated himself for it.

It’s been years now.
He’s first in line for everything — even the things that don’t matter.

Sometimes the only moment that stays… is the one you missed.

Author’s Note

If you find this story resonating, consider subscribing to receive future stories straight to your inbox.

Hello There! Lets connect! 👍

Today I cried — I was heading out to work and my little one gave me a sticker 😭

My kid gave me a sticker. I asked why. 🧐

She said, “Because you’re nice.” 🙌️

In a world chasing performance, a sticker still matters. 👏

Agree?

#leadership #wlb #wfh #empathy

535 ❤️ reactions, 32 reposts, and Brett from Bulgaria said, “This hit hard!”

Earlier in the morning, I had a disaster in the toilet. I finished but there was single square left on the paper roll.

You would scream for help, but me? — I posted right from the seat!

I don’t usually post here but the last piece of toilet paper taught me mindfulness today! 🧘

Your thoughts? 🙏

#strategy #growth

Blew up with “Truly Insightful!” comments.
Just a few 🤣 reactions— must be Redditors, living in their mom’s basement.

Later in the office, I was feeling sleepy after lunch.

Damn! must be the 5 AM alarm. I am not a morning person but every high performer I follow does it so did I.

Half awake, I spilled warm lemon water on my dog. He barked but I learned a B2B sales principle — even a cold lead reacts when you apply heat 🤝 ✌️

Nevertheless…

I ended up paying the price for sleepiness:

• Commented “Thanks for sharing!” on my own post without switching the account 😬

• Reacted ❤️ to Ken Cheng’s post — it resonated, you know… but it was a satire 🙄

Anyways…

I decided to leave early today — after reading “How I left corporate world to follow my passion” post from a Top Voice | Lifelong Learner | Fractional Coach.

Jokes Apart…

We’ve all got a little LinkedIn in us.
Whether it’s the performative optimism, the craving for connection, or the occasional overshare that turns a burnt toast into a strategic insight — maybe it’s not all bad.

LinkedIn Lunacy isn’t a personality. Its a phase — on the way to growth.

Maybe we’re all just trying to make meaning out of the mundane.
And its beautiful.

There is no shame in liking our own posts — for visibility, of course.
Just no more than 3 emojis at once. I beg you.

Author’s Note

If this story felt worth your time, consider subscribing to receive future stories straight to your inbox.

You never picture yourself in a room like that — still, cold, waiting. Maybe it was my curiosity… the one that killed a cat. Maybe fate. But there I was.

Then he walked in. The man who murdered 37 young couples, leaving their little ones behind to face the world alone. I had sixty minutes to find out why — not as a detective or a journalist, but as someone trying to understand what turns a person into a serial killer.

Honestly, I’d pictured someone else — cold grin, piercing eyes. But, there was none of that. Just an old man in his sixties. Thin hair. Slouched in his chair. Blinking slowly, staring at nothing — as if he’s tired of being seen.

One fluorescent light flickered overhead. But inside me… emotions swirled like a deafening tornado. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding, and worried he could too. Fear, anger, doubt… and above all, a pressing curiosity: What makes someone do what he did?

A few seconds passed in silence.

“Why?” I finally asked — barely a whisper.

He sighed, “That’s the question, huh?”

There was a long silence.

He leans back. I wasn’t sure if he would ever answer it.

But then he spoke. Not to confess, not to justify, but maybe to empty something out.

“It never starts with a murder. It starts with the pain… I didn’t know how to exist without the pain. So I gave it away.”

I didn’t feel sympathy. But it hurt. Like hearing pain speak its native tongue.

“But why parents? Did you ever think about the kind of life their children would be left with?”

“When you’re drowning, do you care who you drag down with you?”

I didn’t want to answer that.

He didn’t expect one either. He continued.

“My mother used to lock me in the basement when I cried. Said I needed to learn how to behave. I wasn’t even ten…”

He swallowed hard, like the words were heavier than he expected.

“My father? He used me to dump his frustration — on the rare days he was sober enough to stand. I don’t think he saw me as a person. Just a punching bag — the reason his life didn’t work.”

He paused, eyes fixed somewhere I couldn’t see.

“I just wanted to play. Be a kid. But the others wouldn’t let their children near me. They’d leave the park when I showed up, or stare at me until I left. Close their doors if they saw me on the sidewalk.”

His voice dropped.

“They all thought I was a monster. And so I became one.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I felt his pain but didn’t want to admit… to him… or myself.

A few minutes passed in silence. I thought about stepping out to give him space and give myself distance. But one question lingered like a thorn in my mind. I couldn’t walk away without asking.

“Did you ever want to stop?”

He chuckled — not out of comfort, but something closer to helplessness — then dropped his gaze. Maybe he was searching for the right words. Maybe just avoiding to face the question.

I didn’t dare interrupt. I stayed still… just like I used to as a kid, waking up in the middle of the night, frozen in bed, convinced something was lurking in the dark. One small movement, one sound, and it would know I was there.

He finally spoke.

“It was the only thing that made me feel anything. Stopping meant facing who I was without it. And I didn’t think there was anything left by then.”

It struck deeper than any life lesson or philosophy I’d ever read.

The door opened. The hour has passed. I stood to leave.

He looked into my eyes… for the first time directly. And then, from somewhere deep inside him, came two unexpected words.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t understand why.
Maybe it was gratitude, surfacing in the final days of his life.
Or maybe… I was the first person who listened long enough… for him to finally let go of what he’d buried for decades.

I walked out unchanged on the outside — but rearranged, disoriented inside.

The monsters aren’t born. They are cornered, stripped, and pushed to become one.

Author’s Note

If you find this story resonating, consider subscribing to receive future stories straight to your inbox.

We’ve all been there. A long day at work but nothing was delivered. Said the wrong thing at the wrong time, followed by the “Why did I do that?” loop. These moments silently chip away at confidence and make us doubt our worth. Classic impostor syndrome.

You can turn it around with three simple daily rituals. And they’re not about working longer or pushing harder. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But before we get into that, let me share a short story.

The Restless Woodcutter

There once lived a woodcutter in the mountains of Fangshire. Each morning, before sunrise, he was deep in the forest. And long after others left, he was still swinging his axe.

He worked without rest. No breaks, no idle chatter.

His stacks of finely cut wood grew higher each day. The trader, who bought the wood, grew richer from it. He praised him often.

“You’re the finest worker I’ve ever seen,” he’d say. “Keep it up, and you’ll never be without coin.”

The woodcutter beamed with pride. The next day, he pushed himself even harder.

But over time, something changed. The piles grew smaller. The cuts were rougher.

One day, the trader frowned as he looked at the bundle.

“I’ll do better tomorrow,” the woodcutter whispered to himself.

But tomorrow was worse. And the next, even worse. Finally, the trader waved him away.

“You’re not good anymore, I’ve found someone else.”

The woodcutter didn’t go home that day. He sat on a rock by the edge of the forest. Confused. Ashamed. Defeated.

A wise old man was passing by.

“You look troubled, son. What weighs on your heart?” he asked.

The woodcutter sighed. “I was once the best in the mountains. Now I can’t cut half the wood. I work harder than ever, but it’s never enough. What did I do wrong?”

The old man glanced down at him and the axe lying beside him… and asked.

“When was the last time you sharpened your axe, my child?”

Sharpen Your Axe

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” — Abraham Lincoln

We by default assume that achieving more means pushing harder. But hardly care for our physical, mental, and emotional edge — our axe.

Sustainable progress isn’t driven by restless hustle, it’s the outcome of a well-rested self.

Here are the three simple daily rituals that polish your axe. They lay the foundation to turn every effort into progress.

Deep Sleep with Circadian Rhythm

The most powerful and overlooked performance hack is deep sleep.

An internal clock that signals our body when to sleep is called the Circadian Rhythm. It follows the natural light cycle of sunrise and sunset. The ideal sleep window for most adults is 10 PM to 6 AM, which aligns with the rise of the sleep hormone and the deep sleep phase (2 AM to 4 AM).

The deep sleep is where the real magic happens.

Your brain flushes out toxins, resets cognitive load, and turns memories into knowledge. At the same time, your body releases growth hormones that repair tissues, build muscles, and strengthen the immune system. You wake up with laser focus and stronger emotional resilience.

Nature has built the most powerful healing system within you. All it asks is that you sleep well so it can work its magic.

Want to make the most of it?

• Keep dinner light and early (3 hours before bed) so your body isn’t busy digesting when it should be healing.

• Avoid blue light at night (yes, that includes phones, TVs, and tablets) as it suppresses melatonin, your body’s natural sleep hormone.

• Move your body daily (walk, workout, whatever fits your routine) so it wants to power down at night.

I know… I get it. Work follows us everywhere, life has become busy. But the more your sleep overlaps with the natural rhythm, the more it rewards you in well-being.

Remember: the most powerful choice you can make each day is just closing your eyes.

Mindful Meditation with Pranayama

Just a few minutes of commitment a day elevates how you experience life.

Most of our problems don’t stem from the situation itself, but from how we react.

Mindful meditation trains you to observe thoughts without judgment. It creates a mental space between stimulus and response. Instead of reacting, you start to pause, reflect, and choose your response… even in an emotionally charged situation.

In a way, you solve many problems even before they arise. Fewer problems mean more headspace to face them head-on, leading to even fewer.

This is how the cycle of transformation begins.

You now have more energy to make the most out of every moment that otherwise would’ve been lost to chaos.

Pair that with Pranayama (controlled breathing technique), and the body then joins forces with the mind.

Pranayama boosts oxygen flow to the brain and expands lung capacity, enhancing intellect and stabilizing energy throughout the day. Its rhythmic breathing patterns calm the nervous system and reduce cortisol (stress hormone), furtherstrengthening your emotional balance.

Remember: in exchange for just 20 minutes a day, you reduce stress and anxiety, while gaining calm, focus, and resilience… all at once.

Make Space for Intentional Pause

Sometimes, the best way to move forward is to step away.

Paradoxically, the intentional time away from the keyboard boosts your overall output. Not doomscrolling but a consciousbreak that lets you disconnect, zoom out… and then reconnect with a recharged self.

A stroll outside, a cup of coffee by the window, or a chit-chat with someone — takes you away from the task at hand and avoids mental rabbit holes.

Taking a few weeks off to do what you love or be with the people you love — clears the mental fatigue accumulated from the grind.

These pauses refill your mental and emotional reserves. They empower you to tackle the toughest challenges.

And here’s the beautiful part: when your mind steps away from constant doing, your brain activates the Default Mode Network. Your subconscious steps in… and that’s when the “Aha!” moments are born.

A Final Word

Sharper meetings, high-quality deliverables, and deeper impact. You earn the kind of trust that lets you influence what you work on, and how you work.

The kind of trust that gives you a seat at the table… not just for what you do, but for how well you think.

So don’t fear to take the time to sharpen your axe.

In a world that glorifies the grind, prioritizing self-care is a bold move. And you might lose a sprint for that.

But you’ll win the marathon that truly matters.

Author’s Note

This article is part of a series exploring the principles behind a fulfilling tech career. If you find this helpful, consider subscribing to receive future articles straight to your inbox.

You might also enjoy other articles from the series: Unspoken Principles of a Fulfilling Tech Career

You’re not alone. That feeling is surprisingly common; more so with today’s superficial norms of success. Because true fulfillment was never about how far you go. It’s about where you’re going.

There’s a practical, three-step approach to build a deeply fulfilling career. It doesn’t ask you to retreat to the mountains or search for life’s meaning. It fits right into the rhythm of your daily grind.
But before we get to it, let me begin with a short story.

The Sailor and the Wind

Once upon a time, there was a sailor who dreamed of an island … a place of beautiful nature and peaceful living.

He built himself a sturdy boat, stocked it with supplies, and set sail with a heart full of hope.

“The wind knows where to go,” he told himself. “I’ll follow it.”
And so he did.

When the wind blew north, he chased adventure. When it turned west, he sought fortune. South brought romance; east, strange philosophies. Everywhere he went, something new called out and he always answered.

Years passed. His beard grayed. His boat weathered from salt and sun.

One quiet day, after yet another detour, he found himself stranded in still waters. No wind. No direction. Just silence.

A fisherman, rowing nearby, noticed his lost face and asked, “Where are you headed, sailor?”

“I… don’t know anymore,” the sailor said, staring at the horizon.

In that moment, it struck him: he had been drifting all along, disguised as journey.

The fisherman smiled gently.
“That’s the thing about the wind,” he said. “It’ll always take you somewhere. But only if you know where you want to go… can it ever take you there.”

Careers Without a Map

A career without a mental roadmap is much the same. You’re always reacting to shifting winds. Chasing trends, jumping at opportunities, reacting to pressure from others… all without any clear sense of where you’re going.

But a deep sense of fulfillment doesn’t come from motion alone. It comes from knowing where you’re headed. A destination that’s well thought out, clearly defined, and anchored in purpose.

Follow the three steps below to chart your own course toward your deeply fulfilling island.

Find your Gold Mine

Ask yourself: What energizes me, regardless of the paycheck?
It may be writing, painting, photography, cooking. Anything that sparks joy. These aren’t mere hobbies; they’re signals of what fuels you.

Next, ask: What kind of work doesn’t drain me and pays the bills?
This might differ from your current role. Maybe building apps feels natural to you, but you’re working as a back-end engineer. That’s okay. The goal is to gradually move toward your sustainable, energizing work. You can review app codebases in your spare time, take on small UI-related tasks, enroll in a relevant course, and have casual conversations with app developers to understand their world. Even small steps build momentum. A little progress every day compounds into real change.

Now look for the intersection of your hobbies, sustainable work, and market demand. That’s your gold mine.

• Love traveling and enjoy building apps? You will thrive as an app developer at companies like Airbnb or Expedia.

• Love writing and lean toward product strategy? You will grow into a thought leader in product management.

These roles aren’t career pivots, they’re training grounds. As your skills deepen and your financial foundation grows, you’ll be ready to make bold moves that will produce:

• A viral travel app that generates personalized itineraries.

• A bestselling book on product thinking.

The key is clarity. With a roadmap in mind, you’re not just clocking in. You’re sailing with purpose.

Recognize and eliminate the distractions

A mental roadmap acts like a sailor’s chart to a dream island. Without it, every shift in the wind feels like a new “opportunity” whether it’s chasing a promotion, joining a hot startup, or jumping into crypto because someone else struck fortune or fame. With clarity, those temptations lose their appeal.

Moreover, in your current job, you begin to recognize what doesn’t serve your path and you learn to say no when it matters. In the corporate world, you won’t always have control, but you’ll know where to place your best energy. Not every task deserves perfection; you’ll know when good enough is enough.

That ability, to focus despite noise, is the most powerful optimization. It turns scattered effort into steady progress, like a waterfall slowly carving through rock. Not by force, but by hitting the same spot, day after day.

Make conscious career choices

When your goals are clear, you make better career choices. You naturally lean toward roles that align with your long-term plan. You develop the confidence to walk away from titles or paychecks that promise prestige but don’t align with your life’s rhythm.

Chasing only money or status often leads to an impedance mismatch: a disconnect between work you do and what truly matters to you. This is how we end up with millionaires carrying inner bankruptcy, and flashy titles hiding silent burnout.

But when your job aligns with where you want to go, everything changes. Mondays feel lighter. Work feels purposeful. Career growth and financial success follow naturally. It’s how you build a thriving career without sacrificing your sanity along the way.

A Final Word

Imagine a backend engineer working 80-hour weeks, feeling stuck because deep down, their true calling lies in product management. No matter how much effort they put in, can they truly thrive in a misaligned role?

Now imagine a technical writer at a real estate company, someone who loves both writing and the industry. Each morning, they wake up energized, excited to open their laptop and get into the zone.

Who’s more likely to grow in their career and enjoy the ride?

Don’t get me wrong. This doesn’t mean over-engineering life with rigid plans. Your gold mine may evolve or shift. What once felt valuable may lose its shine. That’s okay. It’s part of the journey. What matters is staying active in journey: exploring, refining, and moving forward with purpose.

The winds of life will blow in all directions. But with clarity, you won’t be tossed around.

You’ll be steering.
Not as a sailor lost at sea.
But as the captain of your own life adventure.

Author’s Note

This article is part of a series exploring the principles behind a fulfilling tech career. If you find this helpful, consider subscribing to receive future articles straight to your inbox.

You might also enjoy other articles from the series: Unspoken Principles of a Fulfilling Tech Career

“Talent speaks for itself” is a lie — unless you’re Chuck Norris. He counted to infinity. Twice.

For the rest of us, talent is only half the job — the other half is making sure others see it.

So, how do you make sure people see it?

Glad you asked! But before we get to the 3 communication principles that answer it — let me tell you a story.

The Silent Archer

Long ago, in the kingdom of Presentasia, King Slideon held a grand competition to find the next Royal Archer. Archers gathered from every corner of the realm, eager to claim the prestigious title.

The arena was unlike any other. Trees stood tall, their branches heavy with fruits of every kind … mangoes, apples, plums … each positioned at varying heights. At the far end, high above, a metal bell swayed atop the royal flagpole. It had no clapper and made no sound, barely noticed by the crowd.

The competition began.

One by one, archers stepped onto the platform. Each announced the fruit they aimed for, explaining why it was difficult to hit — its size, distance, angle. Then they took their shot. Some missed. A few hit their mark. Every successful strike drew cheers from the crowd.

After a long series of contestants, the arena fell silent. No one else came forward.

King Slideon stood.

“Is there anyone left who wishes to compete?”

A few moments passed in stillness.

Then, from the edge of the crowd, a hooded figure stepped forward.

He said nothing — No target, No explanation.

He raised his bow, drew a single arrow, and released.

The arrow soared through the air. Over the trees. Past the fruits.

It struck the tiny bell atop the flagpole. The bell rang. Clear, loud, and unmistakable.

The crowd gasped. The judges leaned in.

“Did he mean to hit that?”

“No one knows. He never said a word.”

But the archer was already walking away.

The king, offended by the archer’s demeanor, rose and declared,

“The challenge was never spoken. Mayhap it was mere luck. This one is unworthy of the title.”

Instead, the title went to another who had struck a large apple but — he had described his target with flair, and basked in applause before even releasing the arrow.

Years passed.

The silent archer faded into obscurity. But he never stopped serving.

In shadow, he fought battles few knew existed.

His arrows ended wars before they began, eliminating threats from afar, protecting the kingdom. Without any recognition.

One day, a grand celebration was held in Presentasia. The arena overflowed with people. King Slideon sat on his throne, waving to the cheering crowd.

Suddenly, a hush fell.

A snake had slithered onto the throne.

Its head rose, fangs bared, and aimed straight at the king.

Before anyone could react, an arrow flew from the crowd. It sliced through the air… and the snake’s head.

The king sat untouched. Not a scratch on him or his throne.

All eyes turned toward the direction of the shot.

There stood the silent archer.

As he turned to leave again, the king stood.

“Wait.”

The archer paused.

The king stepped forward. His voice was filled with remorse and gratitude.

“I remember you. You’re the one who struck the bell all those years ago. You were worthy to be the Royal Archer all along. We mistook your silence for arrogance.”

The archer finally spoke.

“My skill was never silent. You just weren’t listening.”

Unspoken skills go unseen

To grow your career, talent isn’t enough — you need visibility. These 3 communication principles will help you be seen.

1. Clarity builds credibility

You might be the expert, but if you hedge too much, speak vaguely, or stay silent when it counts, people won’t take you seriously. Every weak interaction erodes how others perceive you.

Consider two suggestions to delay a launch.

“I think we should delay the launch. The feature doesn’t seem fully ready, and it just feels a bit risky right now.”

vs.

“I recommend delaying the launch by two weeks. Regression tests show a 12% failure rate. If we launch now, we risk impacting our largest customers who account for 40% of revenue.”

Both have good intentions. Only one brings clarity with data.

Both suggest delaying. Only one builds credibility.

2. Framing drives engagement

When your audience speaks different languages, one-size-fits-all messaging fails to deliver.

• Junior engineers want the stack trace.

• Senior engineers value architectural trade-offs.

• Product managers prioritize impact and timelines.

• Leadership focuses on strategy and cost.

Framing communication for the audience feels like busywork. But it pays off —  the audience gets it, less friction and faster decisions.

Take for instance, a proposal to leadership about addressing tech debt

“We propose allocating two sprints to refactor the legacy monolith into decoupled micro-services using domain-driven design. We’ll implement dependency injection, establish proper service boundaries via gRPC interfaces, and introduce test harnesses with >80% code coverage using TestContainers.”

vs.

“Tech debt in our core system is delaying feature deliveries costing us $250K every quarter in lost engineering productivity and slower time to market. By investing 2 sprints now, we project saving ~$180K per quarter.”

Same proposal. Different framing. Only one earns buy-in.

3. Be respectful, even when disagreeing

High-stakes situations are common. Respectful communication in tense moments sets leaders apart.

Picture this in a stressful situation:

“I really don’t think we should push a hotfix like this. We’ve broken stuff before, and I don’t get why there’s this tendency to rush without thinking.”

vs.

“I recommend we hold off on this hotfix until it passes basic regression. In the last quarter, two similar urgent fixes cost us 60 hours in incident response. A 3-hour delay for minimal validation will prevent another user-facing impact and support escalations.”

Which one moves the conversation forward?

A Final Word

Take efforts to be visible — meetings, shared forums, all-hands are opportunities. Speak up and importantly, articulate before you speak.

That said, visibility isn’t always about speaking — it’s about discernment. Disagreements are inevitable but the wisdom lies in knowing when and how to voice them. Arguing without reason and data backfires; and makes future interactions stressful. Sometimes, silence is a strategy.

The takeaway? Give communication the priority it deserves — it’s the work that makes everything else count.

Every company has silent archers working in the shadows — quietly ship critical fixes, refactor spaghetti code, and unblock others. They are technically brilliant but professionally invisible. And stuck.

So, don’t be a silent archer waiting years for an opportunity to save the king from a snake … if at all it happens, like in a story.

Author’s Note

This article is part of a series exploring the principles behind a fulfilling tech career. If you find this helpful, consider subscribing to receive future articles straight to your inbox.

You might also enjoy other articles from the series: Unspoken Principles of a Fulfilling Tech Career

Your skills open doors but your mindset unlocks career growth.

Many brilliant people get stuck by ignoring human side of work. Careers aren’t built in isolation. They’re cultivated by being a person others want to work with.

Before we dive into what causes a disconnect with people, let me introduce you to Foo and Bar — chances are, you’ve been one of them. Maybe both.

A Monday Morning

Foo logs into their sticker-covered MacBook Pro, a badge of honor earned through flagship launches.

First task of the day: code review.

Bar has a pull request open.

Foo reads through it and spots the same anti-pattern they flagged last week. Frustrated, they type:

“We’ve been over this. Repeating the same mistake after feedback is careless, it wastes everyone’s time. If you’re unclear on the reasoning, ask. Otherwise, fix it properly.”

Next, comes the daily stand-up. Bar begins to explain their progress. Foo interrupts:

“Let’s skip the details and stick to what you did yesterday, what you’re doing today, and any blockers. For the sake of not wasting everyone’s time. That’s what stand-ups are for.”

Foo signs off from the call feeling good. High standards upheld. Another day of doing it right

We’ve All Worked With or Been a Foo

Foos are technically sharp but working with them sucks. Their feedback is technically accurate but sounds condescending.

Over time, people stop reaching out to them to brainstorm. Less interested in pairing with them on projects. And Foo wonders why nobody appreciates their technical acumen.

The issue isn’t skill. It’s empathy. Or more precisely, the lack of it.

Let’s dive into the 4 real reasons behind Foo-like behavior.

1. Mistaking Empathy for Pretense

Foos think kindness in communication means being fake. That it means sugarcoating feedback or hiding real opinion.

But Empathy isn’t diluting the truth — it’s delivering it with care.

In fact, empathy gets you closer to the truth — when people feel respected, they share more openly.

And when they open up, you learn the context behind their actions. That makes them receptive to the feedback, and likely to act on it.

It earns you trust from people because they feel heard.

2. Jumping To Conclusions

“Never attribute to malice what can be explained by ignorance.” — Hanlon’s Razor

When a mistake is repeated, Foos are quick to assume it’s sloppiness, indifference, or defiance.

But maybe the previous feedback wasn’t clear. Maybe the other person was overwhelmed so couldn’t fully internalize it.

Foos miss an obvious possibility: It maybe be lack of clarity, not sincerity.

Instead of a snarky comment, asking “Does this suggestion make sense to you?” and offering to discuss further can turn that comment into constructive conversation.

Patience and curiosity earns respect — not a rushed judgement.

3. Emotional Immaturity

Labelling someone lazy because they’re not always performing at their best exhibits limited perspective.

Life happens. Everyone goes through phases where work isn’t the top priority — health issues, caregiving, mental health, and what have you.

The mindset that understands people have lives outside work — or dealing with more than we see — leads to communication that uplifts, not wears them down.

Critique the work, support the person.

Consider two ways of expressing the same concern:

“Bar is totally incompetent. They’ve incomplete tasks this sprint. They’re probably slacking off.”

vs.

“I’ve noticed a drop in Bar’s velocity this sprint. I’ve shared feedback asking if they need help. It’s possible they’re overwhelmed or dealing with external challenges I’m not aware of. Additional support or clearer guidance will help.”

Same issue. Different tone. Only one earns credibility.

So, does that mean lowering the bar? Or going easy when reviewing their work? Absolutely not!

It means extending a helping hand — not a punch — when someone falls short.

4. Hidden Agendas

Sometimes, harsh feedback isn’t about the work. It’s flexing your expertise or subtly undercutting the competition.

That may work but just for a while.

Eventually, people catch on. If your tone doesn’t match what others are seeing, your credibility suffers.

Even worse, it backfires when you need support. Peer reviews full of red remarks, silence when you pitch a new initiative, or no claps when you share technical wins.

People start doubting your intentions and disregard your opinions … even the genuine and valuable ones.

But Doesn’t Empathy Slow You Down?

Sure, helping takes time. Being approachable invites more pings. Giving thoughtful feedback requires editing that first reactive version in your head.

At first, empathy feels inefficient. But over time, it creates sustainable velocity.

More teammates step up when you need an urgent code review. More people vote for your ideas. More hands support you to take a project past finishing line. More voices advocate for you even when you’re not in the room.

That’s not politics. That’s influence. And it scales.

Like it or not, perception about you is the key to unlock your career growth. Objective performance review is a myth — promotions aren’t awarded by a compiler.

Ultimately, many things need to be aligned to progress in the career. Empathy improves your odds. It positions you as someone who not only delivers but elevates others.

It makes you a force multiplier.

A Final Word

Don’t get me wrong. Empathy isn’t being always soft. It’s not spoon-feeding or letting others to take advantage of you.

Provide guidance but let those responsible do the work to apply it. Don’t avoid tough conversations when someone constantly drains you with things they could handle themselves.

Empathy is knowing when to support and when to set the expectations right. It’s context-aware kindness and assertiveness. That balance is the real skill.

A Simple Test: If you left your current job today, how many of past and present teammates would help you find the next one?

If the answer is “not many,” it’s time to introspect.

There are people who rise quickly by stepping over their peers. They make it to the next level burning bridges along the way. Eventually, they hit a ceiling. They change jobs, but the pattern persists and their network dries up.

Then, there are some who, even without being the sharpest in the room, foster influence. Others remember them… not just for what they built, but for how they made them feel along the way.

Many endorse them without hesitation and recruiters respond to them promptly. Because someone, somewhere, had something genuinely good to say about them.

That’s the compound interest of empathy.

Author’s Note

This article is part of a series exploring the principles behind a fulfilling tech career. If you find this helpful, consider subscribing to receive future articles straight to your inbox.

You might also enjoy other articles from the series: Unspoken Principles of a Fulfilling Tech Career

“Would you settle for thousands for a quick dopamine hit, or aim for millions in generational wealth?”

That’s the question I ask myself when I think of investing; and real estate always turns out to be the key to unlock the answer. Read on, and the next five minutes will change your perspective on investing… and possibly your financial future!

I get it. Real estate appears dull and complicated… filled with tenant issues, maintenance headaches, and all the overhead that comes with owning a property. Compared to that, stocks and crypto are simple. A couple of taps on your phone and you’re in the game. The daily swings keep you glued to the screen, the instant gratification is undeniable.

In fact, we’re wired to crave that immediate feedback. Every time we release a feature or publish a post, we constantly refresh the stats to see how it’s performing. Watching a stock jump 5% in a single day scratches that same itch. That constant activity feels productive… like we’re hustling our way to success.

But here’s the thing: Real Estate, for all its perceived complexity, is the best wealth-building tool we have as tech professionals.

Why Real Estate Is a Natural Fit for People in Tech

Let’s break it down. Tech jobs pay enough to cover a down payment on a decent property — from just a couple of bonuses or stock vestings.

That’s a big head start.

Plus, we’re inclined to leverage technology. Today’s tools make every step of the investing easier for that tech-savvy mindset.

Think of property search. The most important and the first step. Websites like Redfin and Trulia let you get alerts when something pops up to your liking. They provide insights into school ratings, crime stats, and rental demand.

For advanced analysis, paid services like Mashvisor offer data-driven insights. That helps to locate properties that precisely fit your criteria… like a needle in a haystack.

Want to geek out even more?

These platforms offer APIs. Or, you can roll up your sleeves (or ask ChatGPT) to scrape public property records from county websites. Automating the search and shortlisting? That’s a classic engineering challenge — Turn a time-consuming task into a script to run with own rules.

Buying Property Anywhere is Easier Than Ever

Buying property meant calls with agents, scheduling ping-pongs, and negotiation games.

Now? With services like Opendoor, you can tour properties in-person or virtually on your own schedule. They provide transparent pricing that eliminates haggling and the lingering doubt: “did I overpay?”.

Every step, from the first showing to the final title registration, can now happen remotely. That includes inspection, appraisal, and securing a mortgage. Sure, it’s wise to visit the property before finalizing the purchase (pictures can be deceiving), but that’s just a trip at the final stage.

Practically, you can buy property anywhere from the comfort of your desk.

Owning Rentals Without Losing Your Mind

Owning a rental was a full-time job.

Now, tools like Apartments .com and Zillow Rental Manager streamline the entire process: marketing, showings, screening tenants, signing leases, and collecting rent.

Finding and hiring contractors for repairs is a breeze with apps like Yelp and Thumbtack.

Prefer a hands-off approach?

Plenty of property management companies are there, and the reviews on Yelp and Google help you find a reliable one.

Then there’s the legal liability… the part that scares off many would-be landlords. A small monthly premium can secure liability insurance coverage, in million-dollar increments. Services like RLI Insurance can help you find a policy that provides peace of mind.

But Why Bother at All?

Good question. Real estate is a leveraged asset which means a relatively small investment controls a much larger asset (starting around 5x).

Even modest increase in property value multiplies the returns on your investment.

Let’s say you buy a $200,000 property with a $40,000 down payment.

If the property appreciates by 4%, your return on that investment is actually 20%.

With an annual appreciation rate of 4% (the national average), that initial $40,000 grows over threefold in 10 years! In a high-growth neighborhood, it reaches a sixfold growth!

And that’s just from appreciation… before factoring in rental income and tax benefits you’ll collect along the way.

A Hidden Advantage of Real Estate

Let’s talk income taxes, a topic that hits close to pocket.

Real estate offers tax benefits that other investments can’t match.

Depreciation and deductions (maintenance costs, mortgage interest, and property taxes etc) can offset your rental income. And, if you or your spouse qualifies as a real estate professional, even your W-2 income. And no, you don’t need a real estate license; you just need to meet the IRS requirement for hours spent on property-related activities.

And here’s what many miss: you avoid taxes when you sell a property, if you’ve lived there for two years before the sale.

IRS allows you to exclude up to $250,000 of capital gains, or up to $500,000 if you file a joint return with your spouse.

If you’re selling one property to buy another (say, for a better growth area or rental market), a 1031 exchange allows to defer the taxes entirely.

\These benefits come with certain limitations so worth checking the details.*

And cherry on top?

If you’d rather keep the property but want to access the equity, a cash-out refinance or HELOC can free up cash for other investments (without selling the property or triggering a tax event).

A Final Word

Don’t get me wrong.

Real estate isn’t a magic wand to get rich quick.

Markets go through cycles, property values dip or plateau for months or years. Like any investment, there’s a risk if the neighborhood loses demand.

Managing tenants, contractors, and property managers takes social skills, and for many techies, it’s stepping outside their comfort zone.

Most importantly, pushing past the doubts when you hit setbacks like vacancies or repairs, takes mental resilience.

The good news is: Real estate offers options with varying levels of involvement and risk.

You can start with a long-term rental (and a property manager) to build confidence. From there, you can expand into multi-family units, short-term rentals, commercial spaces, fixer-uppers —  or even buy land and build from the ground up.

In short, with all the resources available today, it will be a huge missed opportunity to not explore real estate investments.

“So, would you settle for thousands for a quick dopamine hit, or aim for millions in generational wealth with some patience and effort?”

Author’s Note

This article is part of a series exploring actionable insights for achieving resilient financial progress. If you find this helpful, consider subscribing to receive future articles straight to your inbox.

The same logic applies to job offers. Accepting the first offer from a recruiter means potentially leaving money and benefits on the table. For employers, compensation is one of the largest operational costs and initial offers typically crafted with a room for negotiation.

So, treat that job offer like default settings. Evaluate it in detail. Research market data - Glassdoor, Blind, Levels.fyi - and reach out to your network for insights. Identify the settings you can optimize: salary, equity, PTO, remote work flexibility, role, and responsibilities.

Then, articulate the unique value you bring to the table and back up your negotiation with data and clear reasoning. Lead with your ideal scenario but know your minimum acceptable terms.

If the employer adjusts the offer - great, you’ve unlocked value that aligns with your goals. If they don’t, you’re still back at the original offer - nothing lost. But if they rescind the offer just because you tried to negotiate, that’s a clear red flag about a culture that doesn’t value its employees. Think of it like a database that crashes with indexing or caching enabled. In both cases, you’ve dodged a bullet.

Initial offers are built with cookie cutter templates or on someone else’s assumptions about you. A well-tuned database and a well-negotiated offer are optimized for your ambitious vision for the system and career.

As software engineers, we obsess over uptime, optimize code, and troubleshoot intricate bugs without looking at the clock. Yet, when a typical workday ends, many of us power down our own dreams too.

We’re busy. No doubt about it. Slack pings spill into family dinners, weekend plans get hijacked by production alerts. The line between "on-call" and "off-clock" is blurring at gigabit speeds. Over time, our side projects become stale, forgotten branches, never merged into the mainline of our lives.

But pause and remember the excitement when you first tinkered with an app. Think back to the joy of writing your first blog post or setting up that tiny crypto-mining server. Recall the thrill of diving into stocks or exploring real estate investment. These weren’t distractions, they were sparks. Dormant ideas waiting to change your life's trajectory.

Your 9–5 might keep the lights on, but your after-hours passions? Those could unlock your bright future. Success doesn't require marathon coding sessions. Just 30 intentional minutes daily can compound, as reliably as interest or well-defined API traffic.

Don’t let your dreams linger in a staging environment. Merge them incrementally. Ship them consistently. Because the most meaningful lines of code you’ll ever write might not appear in your company's repo, that'll reside in your own.

🚀 Take Action:

• ⏰ Schedule 30 intentional minutes each day to explore your passion.

• 📌 Commit small changes regularly; treat your passion project like production code.

• 📚 Educate yourself with books, courses, mentors to accelerate growth.

• 🌟 Share your progress openly; accountability amplifies your momentum.

Remember: The stuff you build after hours can become your most valuable release yet.