August 7, 2026
Who I am, not what I do
I would rather be remembered as who I am than as what I do. I am a human, not a machine, and humans should strive for human qualities like love and kindness and courage. Excellence is a human quality too, one that matters a lot, and I want to be remembered as an excellent person. The problem, though, is that most people these days think of excellence only in terms of productive output at work. You should be productive, but there is nothing excellent about the engineer who ships the most flawless code for the auth engine if they are rude and condescending to other humans. There is nothing excellent about an entrepreneur who built a company into a unicorn in two years in a failing economy if her employees think of her only as a paycheck, someone they never want to speak to after 5pm.
Gaël Monfils retires this year without a Slam or a Masters title, and none of that will decide how he is remembered. After his last National Bank Open match, his opponent, Learner Tien, walked over to ask for an autograph. Learner did that because of who Gaël is as a person, not who he is as a tennis player. He’s no Djokovic or Nadal or Federer, players whose résumés hold every shiny Grand Slam and Masters 1000 title you can think of. Regardless, sport will file Gaël among its most loved athletes, not for what he won but for who he was while he played, and he played tennis nobody could look away from. He was kind, funny, generous with his time, endlessly entertaining, an all-round great person, and that’s more than a Grand Slam can get you.
I have been volunteering on the in-seat service team at the NBO, and my team lead, Darlene White, remembers every volunteer by name. She knows who has come and who has not, checks on everybody, and is there from morning till night, always smiling. If I wrote anything about her, it would not be about how well she runs the team, though she runs it really well. It would be that she is a great person. That is about it. And that says more than an award on a shelf ever will.
That is the person I want to be remembered as. Not the excellent product manager, though I chase that earnestly every day, but the one who managed a team, and the team remembers him for looking out for them. The one who stood up for the little guy being bullied. The one who always remembered to bring an extra bottle of water for the man who slept at the bus stop. The human, not the machine.
There is a picture I saw once that says: Humankind, be both. That’s a better way to be remembered, I believe.