There’s a guy I used to work with who never gave me a single piece of advice. We weren’t close—just colleagues who overlapped for about a year on a project. We’d exchange pleasantries in the hallway, sit in the same meetings, occasionally collaborate on documents. That was it.

But I think about him constantly. Because watching the way he worked changed how I work.

He never rushed. Even when everyone else was panicking about deadlines, he’d just steadily move through his tasks with this calm focus. He never complained, even when things were genuinely frustrating. He never got defensive when someone questioned his work—he’d just listen, consider it, and either explain his thinking or adjust his approach. He made everyone around him feel competent, even when they were struggling.

The most impactful people in your development aren’t the ones who tried to teach you—they’re the ones who just lived their values in front of you.

Tomer Rozenberg

I found myself unconsciously copying him. The calm under pressure. The lack of defensiveness. The way he’d let other people finish their thoughts before responding. Not because he sat me down and explained these principles, but because I watched him live them every day and thought: “That’s how I want to be.”

Years later, I don’t remember his advice because he never gave me any. But his influence is everywhere in how I show up to work.

That’s when I started noticing this pattern: The people who shaped me most didn’t try to teach me anything. They just lived in a way that made me want to be better.

The Quiet Influence

We have this idea that development happens through instruction. Someone more experienced explains how to do things, gives you feedback, shares their wisdom, mentors you through challenges. And sometimes that’s helpful—I’m not dismissing the value of good advice or intentional mentorship.

But the deepest influence I’ve experienced has been quieter than that. It’s come from people who probably don’t even know they influenced me. People who never sat me down for a conversation about growth or excellence. People who just consistently showed up as themselves, and in watching them, I learned what’s possible.

I learned about handling conflict from someone who never seemed rattled by disagreement. Not because they taught me their techniques, but because I watched them stay present and kind even when conversations got heated. I absorbed it through observation, the way you pick up an accent from living somewhere rather than studying it in a book.

I learned about creative work from someone who treated every project, no matter how small, with genuine care and attention. They never pontificated about craftsmanship or excellence. They just didn’t seem capable of doing mediocre work, even when mediocre would have been fine. Watching that standard in action taught me more than any workshop on quality ever could.

I learned about treating people with dignity from someone who showed the same respect to everyone—the interns, the security guards, the senior executives. It wasn’t performative or conscious. It was just who they were. And being around them made me more aware of my own behavior, my own unconscious hierarchies about whose time and attention mattered.

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Why Example Beats Instruction

There’s something about lived example that penetrates deeper than words. When someone tells you about their values, you can agree intellectually while remaining fundamentally unchanged. But when you watch someone embody those values consistently, especially when it’s difficult, something shifts in you.

Maybe it’s because example makes abstract principles concrete. “Stay calm under pressure” is nice advice, but watching someone actually do it—seeing what that looks like in practice, in real situations with real stakes—makes it believable and achievable in a way that advice never does.

Or maybe it’s because example demonstrates that something is actually possible, not just theoretically good. When you watch someone navigate a difficult situation with grace, some part of you thinks: “Oh, so that’s actually doable. Not just something people say you should do—something a real person can actually do.”

I’ve also noticed that the people who influenced me most through example weren’t perfect. They had flaws and struggles and bad days like anyone else. But they had a few qualities they lived so consistently that those qualities became part of how I understood what was possible for a person to be.

The colleague I mentioned earlier? He definitely had weaknesses. His presentations weren’t particularly compelling. He wasn’t especially social or good at office politics. But that steady calm, that lack of defensiveness, that respect for others—those were so consistent that they shaped my sense of what professional excellence could look like.

The People You Copy Without Realizing

If you pay attention, you’ll notice that you’ve absorbed behaviors and attitudes from people who never tried to teach you anything. You’ll catch yourself responding to a situation the way someone else would have responded. You’ll realize you’ve adopted someone’s standards without consciously deciding to.

I found myself in a conversation recently where someone was being unfairly critical, and I had this moment of recognizing that my response—staying curious instead of getting defensive, asking questions instead of justifying—was directly copied from that former colleague. I’d watched him do it dozens of times, and somewhere along the way, it became part of my own repertoire.

I’ve also noticed I’ve picked up writing habits from authors I’ve read extensively. Not their specific techniques or advice—just their sensibility, their way of thinking about ideas, their standards for what’s worth saying and what should be left unsaid. You can’t really teach sensibility. You can only develop it through sustained exposure to someone who has it.

The same thing happens with how we treat others, how we handle stress, how we think about our work, how we show up in relationships. We’re constantly absorbing patterns from the people around us, especially the people we respect or spend significant time with.

This is why the “be the change you want to see” advice is actually more profound than it sounds. Not because it’s about being a good example in some abstract moral sense, but because example is the most effective form of influence. If you want the people around you to be more thoughtful, be thoughtful. If you want more kindness in your environment, be kind. Not as a teaching strategy, but as a way of being—and watch how it quietly spreads.

The Difference Between Trying to Inspire and Just Being Excellent

There’s a particular quality that the most influential people share: they’re not trying to be inspiring. They’re not performing excellence or modeling behavior. They’re just consistently being who they are, with standards they hold themselves to regardless of who’s watching.

I’ve met people who clearly want to be seen as mentors or role models. They’re always ready with advice, always positioning themselves as the wise one with lessons to share. And sometimes their advice is good. But there’s something about the performance of wisdom that undermines its impact. You can sense that they’re more invested in being seen as impressive than in actually helping you grow.

The people who influenced me most would probably be surprised to learn they influenced me at all. They weren’t trying to be anyone’s example. They were just doing their work, treating people well, maintaining their standards. The influence was a side effect of who they were, not the goal.

I think about someone I know who does exceptional work but never talks about how they do it. They don’t share their process or explain their philosophy. They just consistently produce things that are thoughtful and well-crafted. And people who work with them gradually raise their own standards, not because of any explicit teaching, but because they’ve seen what’s possible and can’t unsee it.

That’s different from someone who’s always talking about excellence and high standards while their actual work is inconsistent. The talking creates resistance—it feels like performance, like someone who’s more invested in the identity of being excellent than in actually being excellent. The quiet example creates pull—it makes you want to be better because you’ve seen something worth aspiring to.

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What Makes Someone Worth Copying

Not everyone influences us positively through example. We’re surrounded by people living their values, and not all of those values are worth absorbing. So what makes certain people’s example worth following?

One thing I’ve noticed: the people who influenced me most had alignment between what they said and what they did. Not perfect alignment—nobody has that. But substantial enough that you trusted their example. They weren’t telling you to do one thing while consistently doing another.

Another pattern: they made things look easier by actually being better at them, not by pretending they were easy. There’s a difference between someone who struggles visibly with something and someone who’s developed enough skill that it genuinely is easier for them. The second kind of person is worth watching closely, because you can learn actual capability, not just performance.

I’ve also been most influenced by people who seemed genuinely uninterested in being impressive. They cared about doing good work, treating people well, maintaining their standards—but they weren’t checking to see if anyone noticed. That lack of performance made their example more trustworthy. You knew you were seeing who they actually were, not who they wanted you to think they were.

And perhaps most importantly: the people who shaped me most had clear priorities. They weren’t trying to be exceptional at everything. They had a few things they consistently did well, and they were okay with being average or even below average at other things. That selectivity made their example more useful—you could see what they actually valued and built their lives around, rather than trying to decode a performance of universal excellence.

The Responsibility You Don’t Realize You Have

Here’s something that’s both humbling and a little scary: you’re probably influencing people right now without realizing it.

There are people watching how you handle frustration, how you treat others, what standards you hold yourself to, how you show up when things are difficult. They’re not necessarily people you’re close to or who’ve asked for your guidance. They might be colleagues, acquaintances, people who just happen to be around you regularly. And they’re absorbing patterns from you the way you’ve absorbed patterns from others.

This isn’t about performing for an audience or trying to be inspirational. That would just make you one of those people who’s more invested in being seen as impressive than in actually being excellent. It’s about recognizing that your lived example is teaching something, whether you intend it to or not.

I find this both motivating and grounding. Motivating because it means the way I show up matters beyond just my own experience. Grounding because it means I can’t fake it—people pick up on what you actually are, not what you perform being.

If you want to positively influence the people around you, the path isn’t to give more advice or try to be more inspirational. It’s to consistently live your actual values, especially when it’s difficult. To maintain your standards even when nobody’s watching. To treat people well not as a technique but as a practice. To be the kind of person whose example makes others think: “That’s how I want to be.”

The Long Game of Influence

Real influence through example is slow. It happens over time, through consistency and repetition. You watch someone do the same thing the same way dozens or hundreds of times, and gradually that pattern becomes part of your sense of what’s possible or normal or worth aspiring to.

This is why trying to have immediate impact through advice or inspiration often fails. You can give someone a powerful piece of wisdom, and it might resonate in the moment, but if they don’t see you living it consistently, it fades. But when they watch you live something over and over, even if you never explicitly name what you’re doing, it changes their sense of possibility.

I think about the people who shaped me most, and in every case, it was sustained exposure rather than single moments. Not because they said something profound once, but because they showed up consistently in ways that gradually changed how I understood what was possible.

This means the most important influence you’ll have probably won’t feel dramatic or significant in the moment. It’ll be the accumulation of ordinary days where you maintained your standards, treated people well, stayed true to your values. The person watching might not even realize they’re learning from you. But years later, they’ll catch themselves responding to a situation the way you would have, and they’ll understand: you shaped them without trying to.

Learning to See the Influence

Once you start noticing this pattern—how people shape you through example rather than instruction—you can become more intentional about who you spend time around.

Not in a transactional “I’ll only be around people who can help me” way. More like paying attention to who you become when you’re around different people. Some people bring out your best self just through their presence and example. Others, even if they’re nice or successful, don’t affect you the same way.

I’ve started paying attention to this. After spending time with certain people, I notice I’m calmer, more thoughtful, more generous. Not because they told me to be those things, but because something about their presence pulls that out of me. Those are the people I try to spend more time around, not because I’m using them for development, but because being around them makes me who I want to be.

I’ve also noticed that the people whose example influences me most are often people I respect but don’t necessarily want to be. They’re not role models in the “I want your life” sense. They’re people who embody specific qualities I admire and want to develop, even if other aspects of their lives are totally different from what I want for myself.

The Quiet Thank You

I’ll probably never tell that former colleague how much he influenced me. It would be strange to reach out years later and say “Hey, remember when we worked together? You never gave me advice, but watching you work changed how I work.”

But I think about him sometimes. And I think about the other people who shaped me without trying—the ones who made me better just by being around them, by living their values where I could see them, by maintaining standards that expanded my sense of what’s possible.

And I hope that somewhere, someone is thinking the same thing about me. Not because I tried to teach them or because I positioned myself as an example, but because on ordinary days, in unremarkable moments, I lived my values clearly enough that they absorbed something worth keeping.

That’s the real work. Not trying to inspire or mentor or teach. Just consistently being someone whose example is worth following, even when nobody’s watching, even when it’s difficult, even when the influence is invisible.

Because the most meaningful influence is usually the quietest. And the people who make you better without trying are often the ones who never knew they did.

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