The engineer who is always sure of himself
On being 26, carrying enormous responsibilities, and never doubting you can handle it.
At 25 they named me Manager of the Analytics Line in Internal Audit at a bank in the middle of a merger. People expected me to feel overwhelmed. To ask for more time. To say "I'm not ready". I never said it, because I never felt it.
It isn't arrogance. It's something simpler: I know what I can do. And when you know what you can do, age is irrelevant. Title is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the clarity with which you see the path and the determination with which you walk it.
Confidence isn't found — it's built
People talk about "finding confidence" as if it were something you lose and find under the couch. It doesn't work that way. Confidence is a muscle. It's built with every project you carry through. With every problem you solve when no one else wanted to touch it. With every decision you make knowing you're on the line if it goes wrong.
When I was 22 and just starting out, I was already building things no one had asked me to build. I automated reports others did by hand. I learned Python while the rest of my department was using only Excel. Not to impress anyone — because I knew there was a better way and I couldn't sit still.
Each one of those actions was a brick. And by the time the chance to lead came, the foundation was already laid. I didn't have to convince myself I could. I knew it.
Self-confidence isn't negotiated. It's the first thing you bring to every meeting, every project, every decision. If you don't believe you can, no one will do it for you.
26 years old and the responsibilities of someone 40
Managing teams. Leading digital transformation projects. Presenting results to executives. Making decisions that impact processes across the whole bank. All of this at 26.
Is it a lot? Yes. Does it weigh on me? No. And not because it's easy — because I chose to be here. Nobody forced me to look for more responsibility. Nobody forced me to raise my hand when others stayed quiet. Every opportunity I have today is the direct consequence of having said "I'll do it" when others hesitated.
Age becomes a topic only when you make it a topic. If you walk into a meeting room thinking "I'm the youngest here", you've already lost. If you walk in thinking "I have the solution to this problem", no one asks how old you are.
What really matters: feeling capable
There are people with decades of experience who don't feel capable of making a decision without consulting five people first. And there are young people who analyze the situation, trust their judgment, and act. The difference isn't time in the role — it's the relationship you have with yourself.
Do I get it wrong? Sometimes, sure. But a mistake doesn't define your capacity. What defines you is how you react: do you freeze and start doubting everything, or do you correct course and keep going?
I always keep going. Not out of stubbornness — out of conviction. If I understood the problem, if I did my analysis, if I trust my judgment, then a mistake is one more data point, not a sentence. Correct, learn, advance.
The message for whoever is starting
If you're starting your career and you feel you're capable of more than what they're giving you, you're probably right. Don't wait for someone to tell you you're ready. Show it with results.
- Do what no one asked you to do. Automate something. Improve a process. Submit a proposal nobody requested. The biggest opportunities of my career came from things I did on my own initiative.
- Don't ask permission to grow. Learn the new skill. Take the hard project. Raise your hand when they ask "who wants to take this on?"
- Trust your judgment. You'll find people who tell you you're too young, too new, too ambitious. Those people are speaking from their own limitations, not yours.
- Self-confidence is your most valuable asset. More than any certification, more than any title, more than any tool. Because everything else can be learned. The confidence that you can learn anything — that is the root of everything.
There's no ceiling
At 26 I'm a manager. At 30, what will I be? I don't know. But I know it'll be more. Not because I planned it on a 5-year Excel, but because I've never put a ceiling on myself. Every achievement is a new floor, not a destination.
People who put ceilings on themselves do it out of fear. Fear of failing, fear of ambition, fear of being judged for wanting more. I'd rather be judged for trying too much than for having settled.
If you have the capacity and you know it — act like you know it. The world adapts to people who move with conviction.