I was having dinner with some friends. It’s hot today here in the UK, 30 degrees, unusual for us. We left the restaurant and I caught a glimpse of my phone.
I keep all notifications off, so I don’t check it out of habit anymore. I saw a message from Substack and didn’t read it properly.
I went back to the table. We ordered some beers to go alongside the burgers and the fish and chips. It was very hot at the table, the kind of heat that makes you slow down rather than rush through a meal.
An hour or so later I looked again, and this time I actually read it.
It cheered my heart when I read Chief Absurdist Officer message.
She’d taken the time to write to me directly, to make sure I hadn’t missed the feature, and to tell me plainly that one of the Stackhunters had read my work and chosen to amplify it that week. She called the writing impactful. She told me to keep going. Nothing about it was automated. Someone had sat down and decided I was worth the two extra minutes it takes to say something like that to a stranger.
I’ve spent years writing here. There were moments I almost gave up. But it never disappointed me not to look like everyone else, not to follow a template, not to sell whatever’s being sold out there this month. I knew I was writing for no one but myself, at least at first. Every post, every note, was a way of getting better at thinking, at saying what I actually meant. It’s great when people engage, when they like something, ask a question.
But I’ve watched people around me get exhausted trying to please an algorithm that keeps pulling them back day after day. I used to do the same thing on LinkedIn, chasing the wave, learning how to work the platform rather than just being on it. I got good enough at it to know it wasn’t what I wanted. I’m still there because I know good people there. I just try to remember it’s built for performance, not for people.
Which is exactly why this hit differently.
I’ve spent months writing about not trusting anything that praises me automatically. About a tool that told me every idea was fantastic, every thought amazing, with nothing underneath it. This wasn’t that. Four people read my work closely enough to choose it, on purpose, with nothing to gain from choosing badly. That’s not the same shape of praise at all. One is manufactured agreement. The other is someone actually spending their attention on you and deciding it was worth it.
I was pleased people are recognising the work. I believe change starts with us, with actually knowing our own worth. It's easy to compare myself with others, which in my experience has some validity, but sometimes can become a setup for failure.
I want diversity of opinion, even when it's messy, even when people disagree with me. Human judgment is flawed. I'll still take it over an empty vessel that only ever agrees.
I’m glad there are humans out there reading, judging, evaluating, cheering, uplifting, pushing back on our ideas.
Dr Sam Illingworth is one of the people who does exactly that.
We need that.
Today was a good day for it. Tomorrow it could go the other way, and that’s fine too. Frustration, low moments, sadness, those are natural. What isn’t natural is letting either the good days or the bad ones take over the whole direction of your life.
Thank you to everyone who read my work with real attention today, the way I try to do for others. The way we keep platforms like this human is by refusing to be synthetic in how we show up, by letting the imperfect version out into the open instead of the polished one.
I think we just want to be seen, not quantified.
About the Author
Tino Almeida is a tech leader, coach, and writer reshaping how we think about leadership in a burnout-driven world. With over 20 years at the intersection of engineering, DevOps, and team culture, he helps humans lead consciously from the inside out. When he’s not challenging outdated norms, he’s plotting how to make work more human, one verb at a time.
Sometimes I feel that we are somehow being push apart, so we can fit in cages, labels, and other identifying tags. Sure when a chatbot praises you, you get that good feeling, but in my opinion, we are just seeing ourselves, free from the judgment from others, and perhaps this is why, among other things, that most find more pleasant being interacting with a chatbot than with the person.
Sometimes we need to face the truth, no matter how it hurt us...
I really like this post as it shows the impact that humans can have on one another, how someone reading your work and noticing it and then sharing can really be rewarding! Love the title as well this caught me!