The Gatekeeper’s Ego: Why the Least Competent Shout the Loudest
In any professional environment, you quickly learn to spot the difference between genuine experience and performative ego. I’ve lived both sides of it. My path has taken me from Phase I environmental site inspections—where I held the responsibility of determining if a commercial project lived or died—to my current training in the skilled trades. But in the classroom, I’ve found that those with the thinnest resumes are often the ones most eager to invalidate the work of others.
The Hierarchy of Worthlessness
Recently, a classmate attempted to dismiss my history as an environmental inspector, suggesting it "didn’t count" compared to her experience in commercial painting. The irony is that when she initially shared her background, I was the one who clapped for her—I respect the value of any trade. But rather than appreciating that professional camaraderie, she chose to be petty and dismissive. She viewed her time painting as the gold standard, yet when we moved to the actual technical work of the trade—blueprint reading and math—she struggled to keep pace.
She wasn't trying to have a professional dialogue; she was trying to preserve a fantasy. By minimizing my experience, she was attempting to level the playing field so she wouldn't have to face the fact that she was falling behind.
The Reality of the Trade
There is a profound disconnect between those who talk about "real work" and those who understand the physics of a site. As a Phase I inspector, I wasn't just observing; I was the decision-maker. I assessed properties for banks, checking for asbestos and lead, analyzing soil quality, and inspecting structural integrity. I oversaw pile load tests to determine if a building could support an additional floor or if it would crumble under its own weight.
My education, however, started long before I had a clipboard. Living in an unsealed house in Trinidad, I learned the trade out of necessity—mixing concrete, laying tile, plumbing, and carpentry. I built my own bookshelves from the materials at hand because I had to. I respect the art of painting, but her behavior puts a shadow over the trade. When she acts as if her role is the only one that "counts," she creates unnecessary friction. Construction is a collective effort; we all come together to complete the project. By failing to appreciate what everyone brings to the table, she isn't just being rude—she is being professionally illiterate.
The Silence of Excellence
Lately, the dynamic has shifted. As I continue to excel in class, the same people who tried to belittle my experience are now trying to align themselves with me, offering smiles and forced friendliness. I’ve learned that I don't owe them my energy. If they couldn't respect the history of my work when they felt superior, they certainly don't earn my attention now that they feel inferior.
There is a quiet power in knowing exactly what you are capable of, especially when you’ve had to survive without a floor beneath your feet. When you know the weight of your own life and the depth of your own expertise, the petty insults of a struggling classmate become nothing more than noise. As I’ve said before, Your Ego is Your Biggest Downfall. Those who prioritize their pride over their growth will always be the ones looking for a seat at the table, while the rest of us are busy building the house.
