Hey you clever rebels,
Let me tell you about a guy I’ll call Marco — not his real name, obviously. I’ve changed it to protect his privacy, though if you’ve ever worked in a large company, you’ve probably met a Marco or two.
We crossed paths years ago in a consultancy firm that lived and breathed spreadsheets. He was one of those rare voices in the room — a systems thinker, fast on his feet, allergic to clichés. The kind of guy who would raise his hand not to echo, but to question. Always respectful, but always sharp.
One day, after yet another internal strategy session — you know, the kind where the blandest roadmap gets hailed as ‘visionary alignment’ — Marco leaned in and muttered: “You know what this place rewards? Beige.”
Then he sat back and crossed his arms, half-smirking, half-exhausted.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard something like that. But it was the first time it felt like a diagnosis, not a joke.
That phrase stuck with me. Because beige doesn’t scare anyone. Beige is safe. Beige is exactly what most companies want — even if they post on LinkedIn about disruption, courage, or innovation.
So here’s the uncomfortable thesis of today:
mediocrity isn’t accidental — it’s a strategic advantage in corporate systems that fear originality.
Let’s rip this apart.
Mediocrity Feels Safe (and Safety Sells)
Big organizations aren’t designed for brilliance. They’re designed for continuity.
They don’t want someone who questions the whole process. They want someone who can sit through 8 hours of meetings without raising a hand.
Why?
Because predictability scales. And exceptional minds? They tend to shake foundations.
Mediocrity becomes a performance. A carefully curated blend of consensus, jargon, and non-threatening ambition.
“Great idea, let’s circle back next quarter after we realign with our stakeholders.”
You want proof? Look at the case of Kodak. They literally invented digital photography. But the idea was buried internally for years — too radical, too risky, too disruptive to their existing business model. The engineers who pushed for it were sidelined. The company that played it safe went bankrupt.
Talent Is Often Seen as a Risk, Not a Resource
Ever noticed how the truly insightful person in a meeting is often ignored?
Not because they’re wrong. But because their insight doesn’t fit the pre-approved narrative. It’s easier to approve a “Best Practices 2.0” than someone suggesting a clean slate. Mediocrity doesn’t challenge status. It reinforces it.
Marco? He got sidelined for being “too intense.” Meanwhile, the guy who rephrased his points with more buzzwords got a promotion. I remember when Marco submitted a proposal to overhaul our entire client onboarding system. It was smart, cost-effective, and based on solid data. The response?
“Let’s wait until Q4.”
Two weeks later, his manager presented a watered-down version of the same thing. Guess who got recognition?
Another example: Elizabeth Holmes built an empire on vague promises and charismatic nothingness. Investors bought in not because the science was sound — but because the vision was comfortably packaged. Meanwhile, hundreds of medical innovators with real breakthroughs struggled for funding. Why? Because truth is messy, and mediocrity is easy to brand.
Vagueness Is the New Armor
Corporate-speak is a fortress. People hide behind phrases like “alignment”, “synergy”, and “value-driven execution” to avoid committing to anything measurable.
The more abstract your words, the harder it is to hold you accountable. And guess who masters this? The mediocre. They’re fluent in plausible deniability.
A study by Stanford’s Graduate School of Business found that leaders who use vague language are more likely to be perceived as competent, even if their actual performance lags behind.
Why? Because abstraction feels intellectual — even when it says nothing.
There’s a fast-track, and it doesn’t involve brilliance. It involves:
- Learning the language of vague ambition
- Avoiding clarity at all costs
- Echoing leadership just enough to seem aligned, never disruptive
This isn’t incompetence. It’s adaptive behavior. And it works.
We could name names. But you’ve seen it firsthand. The manager who says “we’re on a transformational journey” without being able to explain what’s actually transforming. The VP of Innovation who hasn’t launched a new idea in years.
And yet — they keep climbing.
So What Now?
If you’re allergic to mediocrity, you have two options:
- Blend and Climb: Learn the language, play the game, sell small parts of yourself until you forget where they went.
- Build and Resist: Create your own space — whether through content, consulting, side projects, or micro-communities — where clarity and originality are not liabilities.
I’m not saying one is better. I’m saying: know the rules of the board before you play.
And if you still think merit wins by default, remember this: in 2020, research by Gallup showed that only 21% of employees strongly agree that their performance is managed in a way that motivates them to do outstanding work.
Most are just trying to survive the system.
Things You Can Start Doing Today
- Write something that actually says something. No fluff. No SEO garbage. Just value.
- Ask the one question in a meeting that makes people uncomfortable — respectfully.
- Stop reposting safe content. Share something that shows you think.
- Talk to other people who feel the same. There are more of us than you think.
Have you ever watched someone rise, not because they were great, but because they were perfectly forgettable?
Let’s dissect the system — together.
Alex
