Chapter 8 - It's hard to trick myself
The Life Story of a Cell
It might sound like I knew exactly what I was doing—designing a sustainable data analytics pipeline to end the repetitive, tedious work statisticians face.
I was confident about the what.
The how was another story.
The first challenge? Convincing people. Many had worked the same way for years. The most common response I heard was, “This is how we’ve always done it.”
Translation, Yin muttered, “Good luck changing anything.”
To modernize the process, we had to rethink everything—data storage, workflows, even the team’s structure. No more emailing spreadsheets back and forth. Models needed to be built, automated, monitored. And the people writing them needed to trust that automation wouldn’t erase their relevance.
That raised a difficult question: Should I build consensus first, or make changes and let the results speak?
And if I did make changes—what kind?
Keep the most senior statistician as team lead, or promote the younger colleague with stronger IT skills? Every option felt like a potential misstep. These questions kept me up at night.
When my father-in-law came to visit from China—a retired business owner and a veteran—he overheard my late-night pacing.
“Leverage your team’s intelligence,” he said. “Ask for their input. You’ll make better decisions.”
I took his advice and asked for feedback.
The result? More confusion. Everyone had different perspectives, each rooted in years of experience. I was the least experienced person in the room. How could I possibly weigh one opinion against another?
You can’t, Yin said flatly. You’re not cut out for this. Pretend all you want; they already sense your uncertainty.
My father-in-law saw the exhaustion on my face and gave me another piece of advice:
“Even when you’re unsure, appear confident. Do you know why generals must never show fear? The moment a general falls—or worse, abandons his army—the soldiers, though still the same number, are no longer an army. They’re a scattered crowd, easy to defeat.”
His words struck me. I understood what he meant. Without leadership and structure, even a brilliant group loses its collective intelligence. The crowd becomes chaos.
It reminded me of the human body.
Right before death, all the cells are still there. But once the “general” stops giving orders, the coordination collapses. The heart stops, the lungs still, and soon the body is overtaken by “aliens,” as Cece-40 would say.
That realization raised a deeper question:
Who is the general inside me?
And what happens when he loses the will to lead?
Of course, I didn’t share this with my father-in-law. I just nodded politely. “I understand what you mean,” I said. “But while I can trick others into thinking I’m confident, it’s much harder to trick myself.”
Finally some honesty, Yin whispered. You’re done pretending.
He wasn’t wrong. The “general” in my head had stopped fighting. He’d surrendered the map, turned away from the battlefield, and whispered the most dangerous thought of all: What if none of this matters?
Yin pounced.
Don’t even think about escape. Your old role’s gone. No one will hire you. Leave now, and you’ll be branded a failure. There’s no way out.
I felt my pulse racing. I needed something—anything—to keep me afloat. I ordered Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig.
And that’s when Cece-40’s voice appeared again, soft and steady.
“Maybe I can help.”