Why some rooms aren't ours to begin with.

“If a room only values me for the badge on my chest, then maybe it was never my room to begin with.”

This truth hit me years ago, and it has stayed with me ever since.

A client who I had worked with extensively had kindly referred me to an event organizer as a public sector expert for a panel discussion. By then, I had done meaningful work in the sector, including contributing to the design of the New PSE policy launched by our Finance Minister.

The organizer called me. She was soft-spoken, thoughtful, and genuinely curious about my work. We had a detailed conversation - she resonated with my ideas - and told me she looked forward to the panel discussion. I had always thought that leaders who have done great work get invited to such discussions and I felt happy that I was getting recognized too.

A few days later, she sent me the draft communication that would go out to announce the panel. It mentioned by designation as “Partner.” I wasn't one.

Did I lead her to believe that? Or did the client who referred me had passed on that information? Clearly, I hadn't claimed to be one ever. So, I picked up the phone and called her to correct the error.

No brownie points for guessing. The offer for being a part of the panel discussion vanished.

She apologized, mumbling something about maintaining “parity” in designations with other panelists. Even though her tone was gentle, it really stung. I won’t pretend otherwise.

I had been invited for my work, but suddenly, it seemed that my actual expertise mattered less than the label on my visiting card.

That day, I realized something important: she wasn’t really looking for expertise. She was looking for titles.

And that’s okay. It simply meant that it wasn’t my room.

What That Moment Taught Me

That episode could have left me jaded. But instead, it became one of my most valuable lessons about belonging.

Yes, titles earned over years of effort often come with expertise. But the two aren’t always correlated. There can be wisdom without a title, and there can be titles without depth.

The rooms that place entry barriers on the basis of titles may serve as ego-boosts for those who can get in. They may even become aspirational symbols for others. But they rarely inspire true excellence. They inspire the chase for status, not substance.

And those aren’t the rooms where the most meaningful ideas are born.

Why This Still Matters Today

We live in an era where LinkedIn headlines often travel farther than actual work, where designations can sometimes overshadow depth. But here’s the irony: titles can open doors, yes, but only expertise keeps you in the room.

The work you’ve done, the ideas you’ve tested, the scars you’ve earned from projects that threw unanticipated challenges your way - that’s the real credibility. Not the word printed under your name.

Like I mentioned, most rooms will value your title over your expertise. The number of years under your belt rather than the richness of your experience. To be an outlier in your career, do not let these diktats influence your view of self and change how you operate.

Finding the Right Room

If you’re navigating similar experiences, here’s what I’ve learned:

• Pay attention to what a room values. If it values titles above thought, polish above perspective, it’s not the space to anchor yourself.

• Don’t shrink your expertise to fit someone else’s hierarchy. Titles change. Your work, your voice, and your insights last. And,

• If you can’t find the right room, build one. Share your thoughts publicly. Write your blog. Publish your book. Create your own space and find your tribe. When you do, the right opportunities will start finding you.

That one conversation years ago taught me something my designation never could: I don’t need to be in every room.

I only need to be in the right ones; the ones that see me for what I bring, not just for what I wear.