The Smartest Guy In the Room

Is it possible to be too smart for our own good?

Perhaps.

Growing up, I was generally known as the smart one above anything else. While it looked good on resumes, job applications, and in the classroom, being the smart one (for me, anyway – I cannot recall others’ experiences) did not always translate to success. It only took several years to discover that intelligence or book smarts do not substitute for good judgment along with a few bumps along the way reminding me that pride does come before the downfall. Moreover, I have missed out on numerous opportunities by being the smartest guy in the room. I honestly did not know to which extent interviewers – and employers – find themselves intimidated by smart people. They say they want smart people, but dislike the questions asked; for me, I need to know the why of a process. “Because I said so” may be a valid reason for children, but not smart adults who ask the right questions.

Most of you know I spent nearly half my adult life working for Wal-Mart, and in my final three years with the retail giant, I felt that intelligence was more of a deterrent than an asset – or this is how store management treated me. As long as I could quickly sling dog food onto shelves and pallets plus build at least two features weekly, what I thought of or about was immaterial. (Retail speak:  Features are the items found on the ends of aisles, typically advertised in weekly circulars). In that instance, my education and intelligence did not matter, as I was another peon on the flowchart, easily replaceable.

What is the smartest guy in the room faced with?

Jealousy. I’m hated for being right.

When people are proven wrong regarding their misguided ideas, I have discovered that people personally criticize me for being right rather than for own inaccuracies. Sometimes, I just know more about a person than he does about himself and the messages conveyed are perfectly clear. No one ever looks back in retrospect and admits he is wrong even after the facts prove it. One prime example is former Vice President Dick Cheney on his hawkish approach toward Iran and Iraq for WMDs.

What else is the smartest guy in the room prone to?

Depression.

Being aware of the surrounding world and possessing a heightened thought process gets me down occasionally. People just don’t see what I see – or in fairly recent blog postings, do not wish to see what I see. Research shows a direct correlation not between depression and intelligence rather bipolar disorder and intelligence. Creativity combined with intelligence is a contributing factor in mental illness. This means that those ideas that run one hundred miles per hour in my mind are churning away like a hamster on a wheel sometimes with no definite place to exit.

What do I detest most about being the smartest guy in the room?

They tell you if you're the smartest guy in the room or your group, then you need new friends. What if I don't befriend you easily?

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) October 2, 2015

Those “smartest guy in the room” posts recommending I need new friends. Why imply that I am too bright for the people I have chosen to associate myself with? Maybe we have common ground in other arenas, such as being decent basketball players, bibliophiles or fans of pop culture. Saying I need new friends states that my crew (quality dudes, I might add) isn’t good enough for me. What am I supposed to do, stay at home and stare at four walls as life passes me by? I specifically remember the words “you’re not like us” uttered to me some twenty years ago (I won’t say who, but I heard it from multiple people) as if being smart was an automatic ticket to the back of the line or nerd table. That kind of pressure back then was akin to being shipwrecked on a lonely island with one palm tree surrounded by salt water.

The implication that I know everything – which clearly I do not - does little to welcome or encourage debate.

Is there a tragedy in being the smartest guy in the room?

In one word, yes.

As you’ve already surmised, I was the guy who was told he could do anything and be great without really trying:  I was accepted and graduated from a very good yet underrated university, managed to juggle a fulltime job with both a heavy class load and fraternity obligations, landed a good job in my hometown, and presently write a very interesting blog. Now that I spend twelve hours of each night managing the control room, do those A's from Logic and Argument and Technical Writing pay my bills?

Hence, the wasted intelligence means that I am overqualified.

Perhaps I am a bit aloof at work. I don’t need to be terribly affable to do a job well, just efficient.

Aside from AD&AD, those smarts aren’t exactly necessary to lead organizations. Think about the all-stars we work for; most of them aren’t really that smart. Our bosses just want smart people working for them. That’s another reason why I feel grossly underappreciated.

Maybe in this instance I am too smart for my own good.