Every once in a while, someone gets it twisted. They stand at the crossroads of power and ego, puff out their chest, and start acting like they were born in charge. Like they own the place. Like the pot of gold is theirs, and the rest of us should be grateful just to catch a glimpse of the rainbow.
Let me be the first to remind them:
You are not the keeper of our pot of gold.
You are a temporary leprechaun.
That’s right. Temporary.
As in: borrowed time, short lease, just passing through.
Whether you’re a manager at a job, a chair of a committee, the self-appointed boss of a band, or just someone who stumbled into a position of influence—this isn’t your kingdom. The treasure you’re guarding? It wasn’t yours to begin with, and it won’t be yours for long.
Leadership isn’t ownership
Real leadership isn’t about hoarding power or gatekeeping ideas. It’s not about dangling opportunities like shiny coins just out of reach. It’s about stewardship. About understanding that the “gold”—the mission, the values, the people—is bigger than you. It existed before you got here, and it’ll still be here after you move on.
So maybe cool it with the dragon routine.
This isn’t Game of Thrones.
It’s community. It’s collaboration. It’s shared purpose. You’re not guarding treasure—you’re supposed to be helping us find it.
The illusion of permanence
One of the greatest lies we tell ourselves is that the roles we hold somehow define who we are forever. But roles are costumes. They come with a hat and maybe a bit of authority—but eventually, the show ends, and you have to hang it all back up.
That’s the moment when we find out who you really are. Not when you’re calling the shots, but when you’re no longer in charge. Did you leave the space better than you found it? Did you lift others up, or hold them back? Were you a wise guide—or just another loud, self-important trickster hoarding the map?
Temporary leprechauns, eternal lessons
The truth is, we’ve all played the part at some point. Maybe you didn’t mean to. Maybe you got carried away. Maybe the shiny hat and the attention got to your head. That’s okay. We’re all learning. The important thing is to recognize the role for what it is: temporary.
Your job isn’t to guard the pot of gold.
Your job is to help others get there, too.
And if you’re lucky—really lucky—you might get invited along for the journey.
Final Thought:
To all the temporary leprechauns out there: thanks for your service. But don’t get too comfortable on that rainbow. The rest of us know where the gold really is—and we’re not afraid to find a new guide if we have to.
