The Hilarious Lesson I Learned About Entitlement at 26

At 26, I was absolutely convinced I was the shining star in my company’s galaxy—so much so that I thought a raise was not just deserved but practically a legal right. I’d been at this startup for a few months, and in my mind, the whole place would have collapsed without my brilliant contributions. I was practically holding the company together with my sheer presence, or so I thought.

Armed with this delusion, I strutted into my boss’s office, ready to deliver what I was sure would be the most compelling case for a raise in the history of employment. I laid it on thick, talking about how I had single-handedly saved the day on more than one occasion—conveniently glossing over the fact that I was part of a team and not exactly a superhero.

My boss listened patiently, and I was already picturing how I’d spend my extra cash. But instead of the raise I expected, my boss served me a reality check, seasoned with a dash of truth. He calmly pointed out that while my work was good, I wasn’t exactly the cornerstone of the company. Apparently, startups have this funny thing called a budget, and no, they don’t just toss money at anyone who thinks they deserve it.

I walked out of that office, not with a raise, but with a solid bruise on my ego. I had to laugh at myself—turns out, being irreplaceable was all in my head. I learned that day that entitlement is a bit like eating too much cake; it feels great at first, but eventually, you’re left feeling pretty sick.

In the end, I realized that true success isn’t about demanding recognition with an overinflated sense of importance. It’s about being part of the team, contributing without expecting a gold star every time, and maybe, just maybe, not overestimating your place in the universe.