I’m going to share something embarrassing because the lesson is worth the cringe.
Several years back, I was leading a business unit that was absolutely crushing it. It was growing sixteen times faster than any previous unit in company history. It improved Net Promoter Score (NPS) and helped other divisions hit their numbers by increasing their Net Retention Rates. The math was irrefutable.
Yet somehow, we became a political piñata. Some executives questioned the data. Peers cherry-picked our results to make them seem less impressive. People who didn’t know my technical background attacked my technical competence. They criticized my vision. At the same time, they tried to absorb parts of our product into their portfolios.
Here’s where it gets ugly: I got swept up in the negativity. Started talking shit in backchannels. Being snarky. Acting like the very people I was frustrated with. Then, through my own stupidity, one of those backchannel conversations went public. The worst part? My snark was aimed at someone who hadn’t even done anything wrong. I was venting sideways.
The hypocrisy hit me like a stink I couldn’t wash off. There I was, compromising my integrity while complaining about others’ lack of integrity.
I wasn’t maintaining my form. I was fracturing under pressure, becoming someone I didn’t recognize. I was already feeling terrible, and then my leader delayed a promotion I’d been promised. But it wasn’t losing the promotion that hurt. To be honest, that actually made me feel a little better since it was establishing a cultural boundary. It was the realization that I’d violated my core values, and my actions hurt others. That pain hit deeper than any career setback. Still does when I think about it.
During this transformation—while rebuilding my integrity—I found this Epictetus quote that became something I would refer to often:
“If you are ever tempted to look for outside approval, realize that you have compromised your integrity. If you need a witness, be your own.”
Most people think integrity means obeying a moral code. But the word comes from the Latin integer—whole, complete, untouched. It’s about maintaining your form under stress, much like we discuss structural integrity in engineering. Yes, it’s also about behaving morally as we know it today. However, there’s this lovely aspect of the word that is about authenticity and honoring your values. Being your whole self. I had allowed the disapproval and behaviors of others to compromise my integrity. To be clear, this is not an excuse for my behavior. That was entirely on me. But it helped me understand the absurdity of my behavior and get to the root cause.
Another helpful phrase came from my leader at that time. He said, “What people say about you behind your back is none of your business.” This guy has an incredible ability to elevate himself above the nonsense. I learned a lot from him.
I started coaching myself and my team on what I called ‘polite, positive, persistent pressure.’ When someone questioned third-party data in a meeting—objective numbers from an independent source—we didn’t get defensive. We’d say ‘Let’s dig into those numbers together.’ When denigration reached our ears: ‘That’s none of my business.’ Present solutions, not problems. Share credit, own failures. Show up prepared, stay relentlessly positive.
Here’s the thing about cynicism—it metastasizes like cancer. It’s toxic and justifies mediocrity and inaction. Sometimes, you’re not in a position to affect change. You must not allow this to drag you into the morass of negativity. And in these situations: Remaining positive in the face of overwhelming negativity isn’t weakness. It’s rebellion.
It’s punk rock in a polo shirt.
Growing up on a farm taught me this: When operating heavy machinery, you have three options. You can run it, you can trust the operator, or you can get the hell out of the way. Standing around complaining achieves nothing useful, but it could well get you maimed.
Business is the same. You can’t control the cynics. You can only model something better. And when that fails? Avoid their machinery. They’ll crash it on their own schedule, and you don’t want to be nearby when they do.
Our unit kept growing. The cynics kept talking. But here’s what I noticed: Positive teams ship. Cynical teams bitch.
I’m not naturally someone who seeks praise—it actually makes me uncomfortable. But I care deeply about the mission. When negativity threatens the mission, that’s when integrity demands we do something different.
And sometimes, the most revolutionary act is simply refusing to join the mob or trying to fight the mob.
Choosing positivity isn’t about being soft. It’s about being effective. It’s about maintaining your structural integrity when others are fracturing. It’s about being your own witness when the gallery is full of critics.
In our current climate—whether in business, politics, or culture—cynicism feels like the smart play. But cynicism is just fear dressed up as intelligence.
The real punk move? Building something extraordinary while others are busy tearing things down.
Be your own witness. Maintain your integrity. And when the negativity comes—because it always does—remember that your polite, positive persistence isn’t just personal development.
It’s revolution.
Aaron Fulkerson 