Start where it hurts …

I thought it only fitting to begin my blog with the pain of putting the darn thing together.

I was not born into computers or digital technology — though I was, oddly enough, one of the first kids in my batch to get hooked on computer games. So you’d think I’d have a head start. I did not. Fumbling around with WordPress was not intuitive in any form. Quite the opposite, in fact. After several hours of increasingly colourful frustration, my daughter took one look at my face, sat down beside me, and sorted it out. Having been duly taught what to do, here we are.

What you don’t fully appreciate — especially as you get older — is how quietly irrelevant you can become if you’re not paying attention. We know what we know. Some of us acquire considerable skills over a lifetime. And then we stop. We over-rely on what we’ve mastered, treat it as the thing that defines us, and quietly assume it will always be enough. Sometimes it is. Our skills do become how we make a living, how we identify ourselves, how we draw meaning. But whether they remain as relevant — that’s a question each of us has to sit with, grapple with, and eventually make peace with.

Tip #1: Do a relevance audit — on yourself. Once a year, ask yourself honestly: are the skills I’m proudest of still the ones the world needs most from me? Not to abandon them — but to understand where they sit in the bigger picture.

I still remember sitting at a desk with my daughter, helping her with her studies. She was born with multiple learning difficulties and found school genuinely hard. Today, that same daughter — no longer a little girl, Masters degree in hand — sits with me, and helps me navigate what I find difficult.

I fumbled with WordPress for hours, knowing full well she could have fixed it in minutes. Why didn’t I ask sooner? At home, the shame is manageable. At work, it’s a different story. We seniors are expected to know. Expected to find our own way. Expected not to show weakness.

Or — is all of that nonsense we put in our own heads?

Tip #2: Ask before the frustration sets in. The moment you sense you’re out of your depth, ask. Don’t wait until you’ve wasted hours and your face gives you away. The ask itself is the skill.

Being able to say “I don’t know how to do this — can you show me?” is not a sign of weakness, even though it is so often portrayed as one, particularly in our part of the world. In fact, saying “I don’t know” is possibly the single biggest tell of a good leader.

Tip #3: Find your reverse mentor. Identify someone significantly younger or more junior than you, in an area where they clearly know more. Make it a regular, intentional conversation — not a one-off rescue mission. You’ll be surprised what shifts, on both sides.

I am still relevant to my daughter. Just not in the same way I was when she was seven. My role has evolved — as it must. As it does for any leader worth their salt. Asking a junior for help does not diminish that. Reverse mentoring is a brilliant way to build egalitarian norms — essential if you want to grow leaders at all levels. But it all starts with acknowledging that you don’t know everything. That you, too, need help.

And let’s be clear — this isn’t about ‘showing vulnerability’, the way social media loves to frame it. It’s simpler than that. It’s acknowledging ignorance. There’s nothing vulnerable about it. It’s merely an acknowledgement of fact.

Tip #4: Drop the word ‘vulnerability’ from this conversation. Calling it vulnerability gives it weight it doesn’t deserve, and gives people an excuse to avoid it. Call it what it is — a gap in knowledge. Gaps can be filled. That’s not brave. That’s just sensible.

So. Be relevant. And start being comfortable not knowing everything — and asking for help, even from those junior to you.

Everything teaches. Not everyone learns. Sometimes, your teacher is twenty-three years old and used to need your help with fractions.