Every friend group has one. The unofficial CEO of Common Sense Inc. , nobody applied for the job, nobody interviewed you, but somehow, you woke up appointed. Maybe it was the 6am hiking trip nobody trained for that you tried to talk everyone out of.
Maybe it was the business idea that folded in three months, right after you asked, “are we sure about this?” Whatever it was, that was the moment, Sentence passed, no appeal.
Now this is your life: you’re the one asking, “does anyone have change?” before the Uber even arrives, because you’re also the group’s unofficial treasurer and logistics manager, unpaid, unappreciated, permanently under-slept.
You text “meeting by 7, not Nigerian 7” and still show up to find everyone strolling in at 8:45.
You’re the designated voice of reason, which really just means the professional buzzkill. Somebody wants Dubai with zero savings? You’re the “and the money now?” person.
Somebody wants to quit their job for content creation with no followers and no plan? You’re the one asking if they’ve thought it through. Nobody thanks you.
They just sigh, do it anyway, and call you when it collapses.
The exhausting part isn’t the responsibility, it’s that “sensible” has become your entire personality in that group. Nobody asks how your day was.
They ask, “so what do you think we should do?” And the one time you do something reckless, the betrayal is unmatched. “Wait, YOU?” As if sense is a uniform, you’re contractually obligated to wear, even to the club.
So, to every sensible one out there, still splitting Uber fares and cancelling bad ideas: you’re not boring.
You’re load-bearing, Just, every once in a while, let one bad idea slide.
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