Competence, Confidence and Vulnerability

Looking back on my professional journey, the leaders who influenced me most shared three qualities: competence, confidence, and the vulnerability to admit they did not have all the answers.

You have probably worked for someone who nailed one or two of these. I am not saying there is only one “right” way to lead. But I am saying this combo is a winning formula. When you get all three working together, teams become better professionals, better teammates, and they usually get better outcomes too (reference).

Before I get into the three qualities, a quick note about leadership.

Everyone is leading all the time, whether they know it or not.

Every day you wake up with a set of convictions. What you will and won't do. What you will and won't tolerate. What you want to start, avoid, or finally finish. Those convictions turn into choices, and those choices create outcomes.

Sometimes the outcomes are positive. You prioritize 30 minutes to run around your neighborhood and make a small, incremental improvement in your health.

Sometimes the outcomes are negative. You procrastinate taking the trash out to the curb, miss pickup, and now your garage smells like dirty diapers for the next seven days.

That is leadership in its purest form. Choices. Consequences. Accountability. How you step up into the accountability of your decisions influences how others recognize your leadership and decide whether or not they're willing to follow it.

Competence

I used to think confidence was the starting point. Like if I could just feel like a professional, everything else would click into place.

When starting my career, I walked into my first staff meeting thinking I knew a lot, then quickly realized I knew very little. I took my seat, listened to everyone talk through problems and decisions. A voice in my head flipped on instantly: You’re inexperienced. Do not say anything that exposes it. Do not blow this.

So I did what a lot of early-career people do. I went quiet. I spoke only when I was absolutely sure I was adding value. My silence did not make me look competent. It mostly made me invisible.

At my desk, though, I worked like my future depended on it. I learned everything I could. I taught myself new skills. I tried things, broke things, fixed them, and slowly became someone the team could rely on. It was not glamorous. It was reps, feedback, and growth.

That is competence.

The technical side is obvious: domain knowledge, judgment, execution, problem-solving, and the ability to spot the obstacle before your team hits it at full speed.

The interpersonal side is where leadership either compounds trust or quietly bleeds it out: communication, empathy, coaching, conflict resolution, and self-awareness.

Here is my opinionated take: if you are technically brilliant but chronically hard to work with, you are not “just intense.” You are unbalanced. That is not an insult. It is simply the truth. We're all on a journey.

For me personally, competence came first. And once it did, something subtle changed. I started speaking up more, not because I suddenly became fearless, but because I had earned context. I could contribute from experience instead of trying to sound like a person who had experience.

Competence gave me traction. Then the next thing showed up.

Confidence

Confidence is the part people notice first, which is exactly why it gets impersonated so often.

Confidence is not knowing how to do everything. It is not having a perfect answer the moment someone looks at you. It is definitely not bravado, the showy swagger some people use to fill a room.

The confidence that earns trust is quieter. It is steady. It comes from self-assurance, not self-importance. It comes from doing the work, failing, learning, and returning to the work anyway.

That is why I like starting with competence. When competence grows, confidence becomes less of a performance and more of a byproduct. You do not have to manufacture it. It just shows up because you have receipts.

But confidence has a common failure mode: it becomes an identity you have to protect.

That is when confidence turns brittle. When being wrong feels like danger. When your goal shifts from progress to looking like the person who always has the answer. When “confidence” becomes a costume you cannot take off.

This is also where a lot of leaders accidentally start training their teams to stay quiet. Not because the leader is ill-intended, but because the leader is insecure. When someone is protecting an image, they tend to punish anything that threatens it, including good questions.

Which leads to the third quality, the one that makes confidence sustainable.

Vulnerability

Vulnerability is a loaded word. Some people hear it and think “weak.” Others hear it and think it means turning every team meeting into group therapy.

Neither is the point.

Vulnerability in leadership is mostly just the willingness to tell the truth, especially when the truth would be easier to hide. It is the ability to say, “I might be wrong,” without melting down. It is the willingness to say, “I own this,” without rushing to explain why it was not really your fault.

I learned this lesson in a single sentence, on my first day at a new organization.

I joined a leadership team meeting and introduced myself to the CEO.

“Hi, I’m Brian. I’m new. Nice to meet you.”

The CEO was welcoming and then said he did not know we were hiring for my position.

From the corner of the room, the head of my new department called out: “he’s the content b****.”

You can imagine the feeling. Brand new. Trying to make a good impression. It was embarrassment, sure, but it was also, “What kind of culture is this? What am I walking into?”

The comment didn't get he reaction he expected. The meeting moved on.

Over time, I watched that same leader lock horns with people constantly. He was technically brilliant, creative, sharp, and genuinely capable in the parts of the job that required real problem-solving. I respected that.

But he lacked awareness of how he landed on others, and he seemed allergic to owning missteps. He wore armor. Eventually he tried that on the wrong person, and he was gone immediately.

What stuck with me was not satisfaction. It was disappointment.

Because competence without interpersonal skill is fragile. And confidence without vulnerability often mutates into control, intimidation, or a constant need to be right. It looks strong right up until it collapses.

Vulnerability is what keeps confidence from becoming a performance and keeps competence from becoming a weapon.

It also does something subtle but powerful for everyone around you. It creates permission.

When a leader says, “I might be wrong here,” it signals that curiosity matters more than ego. When a leader says, “I own this,” it shifts the environment from blame to progress. It tells the team it is safe to think out loud, disagree respectfully, and try things that might not work.

That is how teams learn. That is how teams build. That is how teams get better.

The best leaders aren't some mythological creatures who have everything figured out. They are simply able to hold a few truths at the same time. They have a vision of where they want to go. They don't know exactly how to get there. They trust themselves and the team enough to learn in motion.

When I think back to that first staff meeting, what I needed wasn't a louder personality. I needed competence, built through reps, so that confidence could become real. And I needed vulnerability, the willingness to ask questions and risk being seen learning.

Competence builds the foundation. Confidence helps others trust your direction. Vulnerability keeps you human, and keeps the team brave.

Complement your confidence and competence with authentic, human connection.