Haba na Haba Hujaza Kebabs…(My auto-correct is an idiot)

Why is my auto-correct an idiot? Well, like they say, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid. Does this not definitively determine that my auto-correct is an idiot? Its one job, ONE JOB, is to make the people I am texting think I never err on grammar or spelling. More often than not, it introduces errors and makes me sound like an idiot. Let us not even start on the, perhaps the Kiswahili threw it off argument. I refuse. It is an artificial intelligence. It should pick up Kiswahili as well as it does English. I hope you are reading this auto-correct, I am disappointed.

(Should you spot any errors in this and future posts, I hope you will now know where to put the blame.)

I met up with a friend about a week ago…(Go ahead, sing that one sentence from that one song I know popped into your head just now. Done? Great!)
My friend, much like me, is an achiever!
By achiever I mean, someone who is used to applying themselves to something for a certain period of time and then seeing results from it. You study, you pass. You run often, your pace per kilometer gets better. You spritz your hair, it feels nice and moisturised. You change your sheets, you love the feeling of crisp, clean freshness when you finally get to bed at the end of the day.

Most relevant example from all that rambling above, you study, you pass.
School is such a nice sanitized environment. Feedback is frequent. Frequent enough to not have you get discouraged. The term or semester begins. You go to class, you learn. When the lecturer feels you have some substantial content, he sets a test. By this test, the achiever’s great grades tell them, “Yes, go you! You are brilliant! You are a great learner. A finisher. A doer. You went to class, you learnt, you studied, you passed! You’ve got this!” The same cycle, again, again, exams come, you get your passing grade. You are voted most likely to succeed at the end of your high school years. (Do we do these things in Kenya?)
The lecturers whose ‘pet’ you are tell you, “I cannot wait to see what you become.”

You apply to graduate training programmes, of course you get into most, if not all of them. Have they seen your track record? All those carefully curated tests, well spaced, you were always prepared, even if not always, overall, your track record speaks for itself. You get things done. Knock off those As, hand in those assignments, prepare well for those presentations, you jump through all those hoops that are supposed to rate your ability. You are an achiever!

Into the real world you go. You are now in a role that is largely determined by…yourself. “This should be fun,” you think to yourself. “I make my own rules! I create my own benchmarks, I determine what success looks like.” With a little research, you come up with a plan. You know what you would like to have done in two weeks, in two months, after five months, tops, you expect that you will have wow’d your bosses, saved or made the company thousands of dollars and gotten a massive bonus as well as recognition.

* Reality slaps you in the face *

Two weeks in, you failed to get to your first benchmark. Two months in, you are still fumbling. Eight months in, you start to feel as though perhaps you can now come up with a more realistic plan on where to be in a year.

Dear Achiever,
The learning curve out in the real world is steep! It isn’t sectioned into manageable chunks that you can tackle and then move onto a biggper challenge every 3 months. Be patient. It isn’t that you are no longer smart or capable. Haba na haba hujaza kibaba.

Someone who has been, still is, there.

P.S. From a friend of the blog…

Dear Achiever,
Don’t be too focused on the destination that you forget to enjoy the ride.
Love, Mulu.

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