There’s a particular kind of arrogance that creeps in when you’re deep in the grind. You’re working harder than everyone around you, sacrificing more, seeing results that others aren’t. The momentum builds, success feels inevitable, and suddenly you find yourself speaking differently to people. Shorter. Sharper. More dismissive. You’ve earned it, right?
Wrong.The closer you get to achieving something great, the more tempting it becomes to let insolence slip into your interactions. You’re tired, you’re focused, and you genuinely don’t have time for what feels like trivial concerns from people who aren’t operating at your level. That assistant who asks a basic question becomes an interruption. That colleague who doesn’t immediately grasp your vision becomes dead weight. That family member who wants your attention becomes a distraction from your destiny.
But here’s what that attitude actually reveals: insecurity masked as confidence. When you’re truly secure in your work and your trajectory, you don’t need to diminish others to feel elevated. The greatest achievers throughout history have understood that disrespecting people on your way up is not just morally questionable, it’s strategically foolish.
Consider the practical reality first. The person you’re dismissive toward today might be the investor, collaborator, or connection you need tomorrow. Industries are smaller than they appear, and reputations travel faster than success stories. That junior employee you belittle could become a senior executive at a company you want to partner with. That mentor you outgrow and discard could have opened doors you didn’t even know existed. Burning bridges when you’re on the rise often means watching opportunities go up in smoke.
Beyond the transactional, there’s something deeper at stake: your character under pressure reveals who you actually are, not who you think you’re becoming. Anyone can be gracious when things are easy. The real test comes when you’re exhausted, when you’re so close to the finish line that every interruption feels like sabotage, when you genuinely believe you’ve moved beyond needing to be kind to people who aren’t directly advancing your goals.That’s precisely when you need to check yourself. The grind doesn’t excuse rudeness. Your ambition doesn’t justify arrogance. Your intelligence doesn’t permit condescension. If achieving your goals requires you to treat people as obstacles rather than human beings, you’re not building something great. You’re constructing a house of cards held together by fear and resentment.
There’s also a strange irony in becoming insolent when you’re on the verge of success: the qualities that got you close to greatness are often the exact ones you abandon in pursuit of it. The curiosity that made you ask questions becomes impatience with others who are still learning. The collaboration that accelerated your growth becomes isolation because no one else seems to measure up. The humility that made people want to help you becomes arrogance that pushes them away.
Some of the most successful people I’ve observed share a common trait: they remain remarkably accessible and respectful even as their achievements compound. They remember names, follow up on conversations, express genuine interest in others’ work. Not because they’re saints, but because they understand that sustained excellence requires building a ecosystem of goodwill, not a monument to yourself.
Your success will be sweeter if the people around you are genuinely happy for you rather than secretly hoping you stumble. The difference between those two outcomes often comes down to how you treated people during the difficult middle period, when you were tired and stressed and starting to believe your own hype.
Stay hungry, stay focused, stay disciplined. But also stay kind. The grind is temporary, but your reputation is permanent. And the person you become while chasing your goals matters just as much as whether you reach them.