I’ve just wrapped up my first week at a new job. Starting a new job, for me, is basically avoiding the impulse to shout “I promise I know how to use computers and act like a normal human being” alongside every permutation of “oops, sorry (again)” over and over. Joking aside, starting a new job—with new people; new problems—can be hard!
One of the reasons it’s hard is that you often have a choice to make: risk looking or sounding a bit stupid, or bang your head against a wall for a while longer. Earlier in my career I hated the idea of looking stupid. I didn’t think much of myself as it was, and I had a chip on my shoulder. The last thing I wanted was for people to think I was bad.
Of course, most other folks are quietly thinking the same thing about themselves, whilst almost never thinking badly of those around them. We have a great (and therefore, terrible) capacity to be cruel to ourselves whilst extending kindness to others. Elizabeth Gilbert would tell us to consider how we feel towards ourselves (or how we should).
Now that I’m (just) a little older, I care much less about looking foolish. I understand that most people don’t think me an idiot for asking questions. Often the exact opposite—glad that I asked questions instead of banging my head against the wall for a few more hours. Regardless, it’s just not that deep. It’s objectively not stupid to ask questions. It makes sense that you don’t yet know the things that you don’t know.
These days, I embrace my naivety. I wear it proudly and lean into it; unashamed naivety. When you make light of things that have previously caused you pain, you defang them. When you write them down or say them out loud they just immediately deflate, with the comical sound of a released balloon whizzing and farting around the room.
If you’re in the same period that I am right now, I hope you’ll join me in embracing your current newbie status. You’ll never have a better opportunity to ask everyone about anything than right now. You’ve got a free pass to just be totally and wonderfully oblivious, because it’s in service of being wonderfully informed. I hope you use it well.