Important reflections from a recovering know-it-all
Oddball Leaders don’t have all the answers, and they like it that way.
I get a rush from knowing things.
When I was a student — grade school, grad school, take your pick — I had a real knack for being an insufferable know-it-all.
Well-intentioned, of course. I wasn’t flexing to make others feel bad; I was flexing to make myself feel better.
(Somewhere, a therapist is taking notes on that sentence. 😆😆😆)
But let’s just say I earned my #Classhole badge fair and square while getting my Master’s degree. 4.0, baby. #woopwoop.
And as much as I get a rush from my perfect GPA (💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻), knowing trivial things excites me, too.
Like knowing a group of zebras is called a dazzle. That a banana is technically a berry. That Peter Gabriel fronted Genesis before Phil Collins.
In fact, I love a good trivia night and it feels like a real feather in my cap when I walk out of a school gymnasium or a dive bar with a victory because I know my breakfast cereal mascots.
Because knowing things feels like winning.
But, something I have learned as an Oddball Leader?
There’s also value — deep, disarming, dissonant value — in not knowing things. In saying, “I don’t know.” And meaning it.
THE AGONY OF IGNORANCE
Honestly though? Sometimes not knowing or not being able to know drives me up a wall.
Let’s be real: Humans are built to want certainty. We want clarity, control, closure. We want to have the answer, especially if someone’s looking at us like we should. Like a co-worker. Or a boss. Or a (insert stakeholder here).
I’ve spent a lifetime trying not to disappoint people with “I don’t know.”
(Hi again, childhood trauma! Grab a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute.)
But the truth is, there’s infinite knowledge in the world — and my brain, tragically, is not infinite storage.
So here’s what I’ve realized:
Not knowing — and admitting it — is one of an Oddball Leader’s greatest superpowers.
THREE BLESSINGS OF NOT KNOWING
It breeds collaboration.
When I started leading my current team, I quickly realized: every single person knew more about the how than I did.
I bring the vision, the strategy, the big-picture connective tissue — but the details? The operational brilliance? That’s all them.
Not knowing gives them room to shine. It turns leadership into a conversation, not a lecture.
It keeps you humble.
Humility is the glue that keeps an Oddball Leader from becoming, well, a big, dang ol’ jerk.
Admittedly, it can be weird to rely on people who are younger, newer, or lower-paid than you — but that’s where the real leadership flex lives: power without pretension.
It makes community essential.
No one does good work in a vacuum.
We need each other’s expertise, experiences, and emotional oxygen.
Not knowing forces you to reach out — to connect, ask, listen, learn.
And that’s the fertile soil where belonging and trust grow.
KNOWLEDGE IS POWER — AND SHARED KNOWLEDGE IS AN ABSOLUTE JUGGERNAUT.
Let’s be clear: knowing things is still awesome.
BUT!
Don’t play dumb for politics, don’t shrink your brilliance to make others comfortable, don’t gatekeep because it makes you feel unique.
Because when you share what you know — and stay curious about what you don’t — you turn knowledge into collective power, and your community becomes unstoppable.
So!
Do you want to know every cereal mascot ever drawn? The botanical truth about fruit? The state capitals in alphabetical order? I got you.
Do you want to know how to lead like an Oddball? Definitely got you.
Do you want to understand quantum physics? I definitely do not got you sorry. But we can learn together.
