What if the title you chase is the very thing holding you back? We often think leadership comes with a corner office, a fancy designation, or a badge of authority. But what if true leadership has nothing to do with a title? What if it’s about the quiet choices you make when no one’s watching, the problems you solve with heart, and the purpose that drives you to act, even when the odds are stacked against you? This is the question I wrestled with early in my career, and it’s a lesson that’s shaped me as a husband, a father, and someone who is a strong believer in servant leadership.

Let me take you back to a time when I learned this the hard way. A story of naivety, passion, and an RM300 budget that changed how I see leadership forever.

A Fresh Grad with a Camera

When I landed my first job as an accounting lecturer, I was like a kid in a candy store. Everything was new, exciting, and full of possibility. I threw myself into the work. Teaching, mentoring, and soaking up every moment at the college. My students were my world, and I wanted to give them everything I had. I didn’t care about the paycheck or the long hours. I just wanted to make a difference.

One day, some students noticed me wandering the campus with my camera. I’m a photographer at heart. They asked me to advise their photography club. I said yes without hesitation. Soon, I had an idea: let’s organize a college-wide event, a photography competition and fashion show to unite students across departments. It sounded simple, but it was anything but. The college was fragmented, with departments operating like mini kingdoms, each guarding its own territory. I was a nobody, a fresh grad with no title, no clout, just a burning desire to make this event happen for my students.

The RM300 Challenge

The college gave me a budget of RM300. Barely enough for a few snacks, let alone a stage, lighting, or sound system for a night event. I needed sponsors, judges, and a way to pull this off. So, I hit the ground running, approaching local businesses. Camera shops, restaurants, even a manicure salon. I spent lunch breaks chasing leads, often returning late and, honestly, hungry. The college’s punch-card system, an outdated relic, didn’t care that I was out securing sponsors for their benefit. If I was late, I got a warning letter. One day, after missing lunch entirely to meet a potential sponsor, I got called into my boss’s office.

“Daniel, you know the rules,” she said, handing me a warning letter.

I was stunned. “But I was out for the college, not for myself,” I said, trying to keep my cool.

She just nodded. “Rules are rules.”

I remember looking at her and feeling no anger towards her at all. I respected her deeply and I’m still grateful for her unwavering support for my growth. It wasn’t her. It was the system. A system that valued compliance over contribution. Fear over trust. It was a system I knew I would have to break, one choice at a time. And the only way to break it was to anchor every action in purpose. To keep solving problems when it would have been easier to settle. To obsess over impact, not just job scope.

Breaking Through the Noise

The event was a long shot, but we pulled it off. Students from every department came together. Photography club members, entrepreneurship students selling food, fashion design hopefuls strutting their stuff. We got media attention, and for one night, the college felt like a community, not a collection of silos. It was messy, imperfect, and beautiful. But even after the success, the departmental heads couldn’t let go of their territories. “Which department gets credit for this?” they asked, trying to box the event into their org chart.

I couldn’t believe it. This was a college-wide win, not a departmental trophy. When I resigned a year later, I told them, “My job here is done. You figure out how to classify it.” I walked away with no title, no big paycheck, but a track record of impact. And here’s the kicker. After I left, they abolished the punch-card system. A small victory, but it showed me something profound: you don’t need a title to change things. You just need a purpose.

Leadership Is a Muscle, Not a Medal

That experience taught me what John Maxwell calls the Law of Influence: the true measure of leadership is influence, nothing more, nothing less. No fancy badge required. Leadership is about taking responsibility when it matters, even when it’s not your fault. It’s about solving problems with heart and wisdom, not waiting for permission. Simon Sinek calls this the Golden Circle. It’s not about the What or the How. It’s the Why that moves people to act. That day, my Why was clear. Unite a divided college. Give my students a moment of pride. Serve something bigger than the system.

Purpose anchors you when you have no title. Purpose gives you permission to act when no one tells you to. Purpose lets you obsess over impact, to push past what your job description says you can and can’t do. Think of leadership like a tree. A title might be the shiny fruit everyone sees, but the real strength lies in the roots. Your purpose. Your identity. Your willingness to act when it’s inconvenient. A tree doesn’t grow tall by chasing fruit. It grows by sinking its roots deep into the soil, drawing strength from what’s unseen.

Dismantling the Myths

There are 3 myths about leadership that keep people stuck, and I want to tear them down.

Myth 1: Leadership Is Only for Business People

Leadership isn’t a suit-and-tie exclusive. It’s not just for CEOs or corporate hotshots. Whether you’re a preschool teacher, a parent, or a student, leadership is about solving problems with clarity and care. Sun Tzu’s Art of War wasn’t written by a motivational speaker. It came from a strategist who understood purpose. Leadership is interdisciplinary wisdom, a way to navigate life’s chaos, whether you’re in a classroom or a boardroom.

Myth 2: I’m Not in a High Position, So Leadership Doesn’t Apply

You don’t need a corner office to lead. I was a junior lecturer with no authority, yet I united a fractured college. Leadership isn’t about position. It’s about responsibility. Maxwell says it clearly: your leadership ability is the lid on your potential. If you don’t raise the lid, your impact stays small.

Myth 3: I’m Not Ambitious, So Leadership Isn’t for Me

Leadership isn’t about climbing ladders or chasing glory. It’s about stepping into problems with grace, making hard decisions for the right reasons, and serving others when no one’s watching. My son Aden once asked me, “Papa, why do you work so hard?” I told him, “It’s not about being the boss. It’s about making things better for others.” That’s leadership. Solving problems with heart.

The Sacred Trust of Leadership

Leadership is a sacred trust. It’s permission you grant yourself to serve something bigger than your comfort zone. It’s permission to pursue purpose when the system tells you to stay small. It’s permission to obsess over impact when nobody claps. As a Christian, I see this as serving others as an act of faith, but the idea resonates across beliefs. Whether you’re Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, or anything at all, leadership is about carrying the weight of responsibility with humility and courage. It’s about asking, “What’s my purpose?” and letting that guide you when the path gets tough.

At Stellar, we’ve built our leadership framework on this trust. Culture before strategy. Responsibility before rank. Leaders go first. The moment you blame others, you’ve forfeited leadership.

A Call to Lead Where You Are

Looking back, I’m grateful for that RM300 challenge. It taught me that leadership isn’t about waiting for the perfect title or moment. It’s about acting when it’s necessary, even when it’s messy or inconvenient. Wenny reminds me of this. So do Aden, Eann, and Evan, who are learning to solve problems with courage, not titles. They remind me that leadership is a muscle we all can build, no matter where we start.

So, what’s your RM300 challenge? What system needs breaking? What problem is calling you to step up, even if you feel unqualified? You don’t need a title to pursue purpose. You don’t need permission to obsess over impact. You already have it.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

The real trap isn’t chasing titles. It’s the comfort that stops you from solving problems that matter. Lose the title. Grow the muscle.

Lead where you are, with what you have, for those you serve.