"A students end up working for C students."
I heard this on Instagram the other day and it struck me.
If I'm being honest, after 18 years as an employee, it hit a little too close to home. Had I been taken for a ride all these years?
But the more I sat with it, the more I realized it's B.S.
What the quote is actually pointing at is something way more interesting than grades: people who internalize institutional validation vs. people who learn to create their own.
The better question isn't "who succeeds"? It's what kind of person does our system create?
What makes this uncomfortable is that I was an A student most of my academic career. But not all of it.
In high school, I let my grades slip. I showed up late, slept through classes I didn't care about, and challenged teachers I didn't like. I knew how to play the game. I just stopped caring whether I won.
Like most of us, when I entered the workforce, the need for money forced me back in line. I spent years succeeding in hierarchies. Learning which projects got attention, which outcomes management cared about, and how to position myself for the next promotion.
And it worked. Job titles. Stock options. Merger payouts. All the external markers that I was winning the game.
Here's the thing, the system used to make perfect sense.
When distribution was scarce, institutions controlled access — to audiences, to capital, to legitimacy.
So of course we optimized for institutional approval. That was the rational choice.
Now distribution is abundant. You can build an audience without permission or raise capital without spending years credentialing first. The institutions still exist, but they're no longer gatekeepers. They're just one option.
The people thriving now aren't necessarily the ones who were bad at school. They're the ones who recognized this shift early enough and acted on it.
Which brings me to the real question I've been circling:
Why are we training young people to seek institutional validation in a world where institutions have lost their monopoly on opportunity?
What happens to a generation raised to collect gold stars in a world where gold stars are quickly losing their value?
You get a lot of very accomplished people who feel cheated. Who got the promotion. Who kept climbing while secretly asking themselves: Is this it?
And you get young people who are opting out entirely. Skipping college. Ignoring internships. Refusing to join a corporate landscape that's clearly rigged against them.
I used to think this was rebellion, but it's not. It's just a rational response to our new reality.
So where does that leave people like you and me? Those of us who paid into the system, and are now realizing it can't guarantee anything close to what it once did? Now that the financial high is wearing off?
We're left with a question: How much of this was what I wanted and how much was just cultural conditioning?
Did I want that job or just the prestige that came with it?
Was I building a meaningful career or just playing the game?
I left. And some days I miss the stability of a steady paycheck. But I know I can't go back.
Because the longer I'm outside the system, the more I'm returning to myself — before I started seeking outside validation.
I'm asking: "Who am I underneath all of this cultural conditioning and aspiration?"
And that's where the real choice begins.
