I’m writing from an open space full of people who’ve collected more certifications than the number of zebra crossings on my way to work.

You’re everywhere - on banners, LinkedIn profiles, Instagram slideshows in PowerPoint gray with bold fonts - as nauseating as the last time I stumbled across you. You’re the modern idol convincing students, juniors, and the unemployed that the world would stop spinning if you didn’t post something “inspiring” today. Spoiler alert: nah, we'd be all fine.

Dear Lean Six Sigma, I remember you five years ago on this Monday - the way you were shaking on your way to work, praying you’d make it through another quarter. The way you recalled on a smoking break that life was unfair, and that your bosses didn’t see your worth. You filled that hole in your soul with acronyms prepended to your name and dreamed of being a role model for the new generations of specialists, a mom/dad they’d look up to.

Lean, can I just call you that? The only thing you managed to accomplish is turning mediocre people into badge collectors. Folks who think a “Green Belt” certificate is more valuable than a day spent actually creating something meaningful or living life without dreading every moment of it.

This whole personal-branding thing, Lean Six Sigma, is more or less modern self-harm. The more photos you post from conferences, the less of you there is left in your real life. You’ve worked so hard to build a personal brand, but there is no actual person under that empty shell. You run around trying to convince strangers you’re “inspiring,” “impactful,” “visionary” - words that would collapse instantly in a real conversation with your kid or anyone who knows you without filters. You’re always “on,” always in airports, always wearing your badge like a rosary. You’ve got branding, but no life. Maybe an audience, but no one who actually cares.

And I’ve also seen your disciples. The ones who look up to you because they’ve got no one else to look at. They don’t understand “process,” “pipeline,” or “synergy,” but they think you’ve made it because you stand in front of a projector and wield a clicker like it’s Excalibur.

And the saddest part is that the louder you scream on LinkedIn about being “driven” and “innovative,” the more insecure and provincial you seem. It’s the paradox of shiny incompetence - you’ve got the diploma and the buzzwords, but not the substance. You’ve got the badge, but still no respect. You look at yourself as an MVP, but your kid still doesn’t know his dad. You’ve got “Certified Manager” in your bio, but you’ve never actually led a team before - and now that you do, your subordinates are bailing out faster than popcorn pops at a weekend matinee.

You feed on all this, Lean Six Sigma. On people’s desperate need to prove they’re “aligned with best practices” instead of just being good at what they do. You’ve bred a generation taking selfies on flights and in coworking spaces under hashtag-conference, while their kids post on TikTok that “mom’s always busy making money so we can survive the city.”

It’s not entirely your fault. You’re just a tool - one your corporate handlers never learned to use properly. But like them, you’ve started to believe you run the workshop. Truth is, you’re two quarters away from being promoted from “current-job-title” to “customer.”

Kind regards (and a minor KPI of disgust),
Someone who knows value isn’t measured in badges, but in silent excellence.