Several years ago, I joined a well-known global IT company. It was an exciting time for me. The team I joined was diverse, with people from different countries, backgrounds, and technical specializations. Everyone had their own strengths, and I was proud of mine—skills that I had honed over the years and was excited to share with the team.
I was only a few weeks into the job when something unexpected happened.
One of the senior team members asked me if I could join him for a quick chat. No meeting invite. No office room. He asked to meet at a food court just beside our building, tucked inside a parking area. A bit unusual, but I obliged.
We sat down at one of the tables, and without any small talk, he looked straight at me and said:
“You are not technical.”
He said it so plainly, as if it were a fact that needed no further discussion. Then, without pause, he started a long speech about all the tools he knew, certifications he had earned, complex systems he’d built—his entire professional résumé, basically.
To be honest, I didn’t hear much of it. My brain just kind of stopped after that first sentence. I was stunned. Caught completely off guard. I didn’t respond. I didn’t defend myself. Not because I agreed, but because I was still processing what had just happened.
In my mind, I kept thinking, Why would I need to explain myself? You didn’t even ask what I do or what I know.
When he was done talking, he said, “That’s all I have to say.” Then he stayed behind, sipping his afternoon tea, while I was dismissed to go back to the office.
I walked away in silence, but his words followed me for weeks.
“You are not technical.”
I won’t sugarcoat it—those words stung. They hit a part of me that was already trying to find its footing in a new company, with a new team, in an unfamiliar environment. I felt dismissed, underestimated, and belittled. I started second-guessing myself.
But here’s what I’ve come to understand, and what I hope resonates with someone out there: it’s okay to feel hurt by something someone said. But don’t let it stop you. Feel it. Process it. Then keep going.
That moment pushed me to grow, not out of spite, but out of a deeper desire to discover and define my own value in tech. I started learning more about frontend and backend development. I took on new challenges. I began blogging, sharing my learnings with others. I picked up skills I didn’t even think I’d need—and I loved it.
A year later, I left that company and joined a workplace where I felt genuinely valued and respected—one of the best teams I’ve had the privilege of working with.
And here’s the thing: I was hired in the first place because of my skill set. My contributions mattered. Just because they didn’t look the same as someone else’s doesn’t make them any less technical or valuable.
What Does “Technical” Really Mean?
The term “technical” can be very elusive. Often, it’s defined by certain skills, tools, or knowledge areas—like coding, system architecture, or problem-solving in complex environments. But let’s face it: technical means different things to different people.
In fact, your level of technicality is unique to you—just like any other skill set. What I might consider technical could be different from what someone else values as “technical.” This is why technicality is a spectrum. It’s not about being the best at everything. It’s about what you bring to the table with your unique abilities and perspective.
I think of technicality like a jigsaw puzzle. Each piece represents a different skill set. Some pieces might be large and highly visible—think coding, designing, or architecting systems. Other pieces might be smaller, but no less important—like problem-solving, communication, and project management. They all fit together to create a bigger picture.
And here’s the thing: every piece is essential. Without each piece, the puzzle isn’t complete. So, whether you’re good at one thing or many things, your unique contribution is important.
Tips for Handling Feedback Like This
Tough feedback, especially when it’s dismissive or belittling, can be difficult to handle. Here are a few strategies that helped me bounce back—and I hope they help you too:
- Don’t take it personally.
Easier said than done, I know. But remember: Feedback reflects the person giving it, not necessarily your worth. It’s not about you—it’s about their perception, and sometimes, their perception is just wrong. - Ask for clarity.
If someone gives you vague feedback, ask for specifics. What exactly do they mean by “technical”? What do you think you can do to improve? Opening up the conversation can help you understand where they’re coming from, and it gives you an opportunity to clarify what you bring to the table. - Own your growth.
Yes, you can feel hurt. Yes, it might sting. But take that feedback as a challenge. If you feel like there’s something you can learn or improve on, take the time to grow. Learning new things will help you feel more confident, and it will ultimately show those who doubted you what you’re truly capable of. - Stay true to your own journey.
You don’t need to meet anyone else’s definition of success. You don’t need to fit into someone else’s mold of what it means to be “technical.” Define your own success. Keep learning, and most importantly, keep being yourself.
The Lesson
The lesson I learned from that moment is simple, but powerful: Don’t let someone else define your worth.
Just because you don’t fit into their definition of “technical” doesn’t mean you aren’t. Just like in a jigsaw puzzle, every piece has its place, and every skill has its value.
So to anyone who’s ever been told “You’re not technical,” I want you to know:
You are technical in your own way. Own that. Keep learning. Keep growing. And most importantly, keep being you.
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