I remember when I first got into this field, everyone was talking about these grand, high-flying projects. That was the “plane talk” for you – all about reaching new heights, super fast, super sleek. I jumped in, obviously. Thought I’d be piloting some super advanced jet in no time.
My first proper gig, they sold it to me like it was the next big thing. “We’re building a revolutionary platform!” they kept saying. Lots of buzzwords, lots of meetings – honestly, way more talk than actual building, if you ask me. The “plane” they were describing sounded amazing, but the one we were actually trying to get off the ground? It felt like it was patched together with sticky tape and wishful thinking.
We’d have these incredibly long sessions, day in and day out.
- Planning meetings that just went around and around in circles, never really landing on anything solid.
- So-called “brainstorming” sessions that quickly turned into “blamestorming” the moment something didn’t go perfectly.
- Constant, jarring changes in direction – felt like the pilot couldn’t decide on a destination, or maybe kept getting bad weather reports for every route.
It was totally exhausting. I spent so much of my time just trying to keep up with all the “talk,” trying to figure out what on earth we were actually aiming to do. That initial buzz and excitement? Poof, gone. Replaced by this horrible, sinking feeling that we weren’t really going anywhere, despite all the frantic activity and endless discussions.
Then came the inevitable day…
The project, well, it didn’t exactly crash and burn spectacularly. It sort of just… fizzled out. Ran out of fuel, I guess you could say. Management quietly pulled the plug. And just like that, I was grounded, career-wise. For a little while there, I was pretty down in the dumps. All that exciting “plane talk” had led to a big fat dead end.
But you know what? It was also a weird sort of relief. A massive weight off my shoulders. I took some proper time off. Did some actual, real thinking for myself, not just reacting to the latest “urgent” email or meeting summons. I realized I didn’t want to be chasing those flashy, unstable rockets anymore. I craved something solid, something tangible, something real.
So, I shifted gears completely. Started working on smaller, much more focused things. Projects where the “talk” actually matched the “walk,” or in this case, the “flight plan” matched the actual journey we undertook. It wasn’t as glamorous on the surface, no one was calling it “revolutionary” every five minutes, thank goodness. But it was steady. We built stuff, it worked, and real people actually used it. Simple as that, and incredibly satisfying.
Looking back, that whole experience with the “big, flashy plane” that never really flew taught me a heck of a lot. Mainly, that a massive amount of “plane talk” out there is just hot air. You’ve really got to look at the actual engineering, the actual team putting in the work, and the actual, clear direction it’s all heading in. Sometimes, a sturdy little propeller plane that actually gets you where you need to go is a whole lot better than a supersonic jet that never even leaves the hangar, no matter how impressive all the talk around it sounds. That’s my practical takeaway from all this. Focus on the real journey and the real work, not just the glossy destination brochure.
