Impostor syndrome is basically that little gremlin in your head whispering, “They’re going to figure out you have no clue what you’re doing.” Newsflash: neither does anyone else. Half the boardrooms in London, Berlin, or Paris are filled with people nodding confidently while silently Googling acronyms under the table. The difference isn’t who knows the answers—it’s who’s bold enough to fake composure with a straight face.  So why are we terrified to admit it? Because we’re conditioned to put on a polished act. At work, we strut around like we’re at some formal dinner in Brussels, trying not to drop the cutlery. God forbid anyone notices we sometimes feel like frauds. But the reality? The second you confess it over a pint, espresso, or glass of wine, most people will laugh and say, “Same here.” Suddenly the scary monster turns out to be a paper dragon. Here’s the twist: impostor syndrome isn’t proof you’re failing—it’s proof you’re stretching. You don’t get that sinking feeling when you’re stuck in your comfort zone, doing the same thing on repeat. You feel it when you’re in new territory—leading a project, pitching across cultures, learning the ropes of a new market. That shaky feeling? That’s growth disguised as doubt. And let’s be real: admitting it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you relatable. Nobody actually bonds over someone acting like a perfect professional robot. People connect over the messy truth—“Yeah, sometimes I’m just winging it too.” Authenticity wins out every time, whether you’re in Madrid, Milan, or Manchester. So, here’s a dare. Next time that impostor voice shows up, say it out loud. Ask a colleague, “Do you ever feel like you’re bluffing your way through this?” Chances are, they’ll grin and nod. And just like that, the silence cracks. Fear hates daylight, and impostor syndrome hates being talked about. Bottom line: stop letting it drive. Everyone’s faking it a little, and that’s fine. Owning it? That’s not weakness—that’s power.

Everybody deserves to be awake at a company retirement.