I find it fascinating how my sense of being has completely changed from mostly being the small guy speaking truth to power to mostly being the big guy holding power.

I was the freelance writer carrying angst because the big publication didn't pay on time. I was the reporter the big corporate would threaten with a legal notice to discredit my factual story. I was the rebellious student who would not listen to college admin bullshit.

I promised myself to never lose the courage to stand for what's right. Wherever I was. In whatever situation. My ethics and judgement and values were lauded. Because the small guy me stood against the big guy others.

And now, I am in situations where I am the big guy.

I am the manager firing people when their performance is off. I am the leader saying "get your shit together because this misplaced overconfidence doesn't work here." I am the editor telling a writer this story doesn't work and will be canned. I am the corporate guy getting privately angry at the reporter who misrepresented my company.

I am the same guy but now the one with power, so my exact same ethics and judgement and values sometimes feel under the scanner.

How honest can you really be with an employee who wants influence without demonstrated competence and then feels wronged because the feedback felt like betrayal? How do I tell a reporter that feeling for the deprived doesn't make up for sloppy reporting? And man, how do you tell my cook didi that I will have to fire her from the job she really needs because her stubborn refusal to follow instructions is costing me my health?

How the tables have turned. The identity of the challenger gave me a narrative. The identity of the person trying to hold power responsibly doesn't. All it gives me is a series of unglamorous decisions that nobody wants to make art out of.

The truth is, the principles with which I look at each situation haven't changed. What's changed is what it feels like to act on them. When you're the small guy, honesty has external costs: unpaid invoices, legal threats, and loss of economic opportunity. When you're the big guy, honesty has internal costs: the loneliness of wanting to be responsible, the expectation to do the emotional labour, to asymmetrically invest more adjustment, more understanding, and more care—and nobody sees you pay.

I am figuring out how to handle this change of identity. I know this discomfort emerges from the weight of responsibility. But I am also learning how to not let any of this become an excuse for consistent self-doubt, because that's exactly the trap where you become so afraid of being the bad guy that you don't exercise authority cleanly, and then all that unspent angst accumulates until it curdles into cynicism, and then, game over: you become the big guy the small guy you never wanted to be. You become Michael Corleone. And anything goes.

I don't want to be that person. So I am learning how to handle discomfort as I act on what I believe is right, and then let consistency over time be the only thing that speaks for what all of it really was. Because I really give a fuck about what I do. Whether I am the small guy or the big guy.