Red Pill, Blue Pill: When Neither Option Was Designed for You

I caught up with a friend recently who I haven't seen for about 8 years - definitely pre-COVID. He's a really interesting person; a trained strategist is how I would describe him to others. I met him during a period where he was consulting for an agency I was working for . We entered each other's orbit and for some reason, he decided to befriend me. Not as a "Hey, how you going?" kind of friend. But more a "What are you doing with your life?" kind of friend.

For those of you that know me, you know that's the kind of kōrero I'm about. I very rarely talk about the weather. After about 2 minutes, I can figure out whether you're a person I'll ask my favourite question to: "What are you doing with your one precious life?" And yes, it's kind of intense, but I'm all good if you're not up for that.

This person was like that from day one with me – intense, straight up, honest, sometimes brutally so. He asked me questions that back then, as a 30-something-year-old, I didn't know how to answer. Such as: "Are you doing the right things with your career?" "How do you want to be perceived?" "How will you value-up time and time again?" Really strategic questions about me as the client, me as the brand. Things I hadn't really thought about as a public servant back then. Of course, in the private consulting world, how you position your brand in the eyes of partners and clients is part of the game. But back then in the public service, that wasn't a language I had really encountered.

Fast forward – my friend and I had regular contact for a few years, then as you do when you move on in life and to different parts of your career, our paths stopped crossing and we fell out of touch. So, we spent the first wee while of our coffee just catching each other up on our lives – professionally and personally. We talked about everything: midlife existential crises and reawakenings – straight into it.

And this kōrero led to the title of this blog post. My friend reflected back to me that looking back 10 years to when we started orbiting each other's worlds, knowing what he knew of me back then, had I been given the choice of a blue pill to stay in The Matrix and pursue the leadership journey that was ahead of me in the public service, he totally thought that was the pill I was going to take. So, he was happily surprised that actually, I hadn't taken the blue pill, and instead I'm now out here doing a whole bunch of other things – trying to start my own business, build a portfolio career, become a writer, all the things.

But here's the thing that's been sitting with me since that coffee. I'm not sure I actually agree with whether I made the choice not to take the blue pill. I think I was all up for taking the pill, it’s just that it wasn't even on offer for me. I'd say, it was more that the system spat me out – like I was incompatible with how things operated. Every agency found a way of rejecting what I brought to the table.

Like many people I know in the public service, to survive and thrive, I had to change jobs every 2-3 years. I would come in all fresh eyed and curious about why this and why that. At first my team would find me really interesting and refreshing. But then, over time, I became another hōhā. My questions were inconvenient and slowed down the process. My patience and diplomacy would wear thin when the impact I felt I was there to achieve would come at too great a cost. So, onto the next role.

Looking back, I can see what was really happening. It wasn't that I was difficult – it was that I was asking questions the system couldn't answer without admitting its own limitations. Questions that came from a different worldview, different values, a different way of seeing what was possible. I was operating from tikanga that didn't align with how these institutions were designed to function.

But here's what I'm realising: What happens when neither the blue or red pill is designed for people like you?

When the system itself actively protects itself from your ways of thinking, your authentic self? When the "safe" path requires you to shrink parts of yourself that you're not willing to shrink anymore?

My friend saw someone back then who would choose safety over authenticity. But what he missed was that I was never actually offered that choice. The blue pill – the safe corporate ascension – comes with conditions. And those conditions weren't written for someone like me.

So here I am – did I take the red pill, or maybe the purple pill? Whatever the colour, it's not about pills. It's not about The Matrix. It's not about the system rejecting me.

It's about power. It's about coming home to yourself.

It's about refusing to accept the options on offer and building my own instead. It's about becoming so awake and present to my own journey that I'm not just the surfer on the wave – I am the wave.

And here's the kicker: I may still choose to go back to that system in the end. If I find the right opening, if I can enter on my terms with all the strength and pūkenga I've built on the outside. Because now it would be a choice, not a default. Now I'd be bringing everything I've learned about building from scratch, about authenticity, about creating value outside traditional structures.

That's not defeat – that's rangatiratanga.

I'm not modelling escape for my mokopuna. I'm modelling something more powerful: Build yourself up until you can engage with any system from a position of strength. Don't just take the options they offer you – create options they never imagined.

The lesson isn't about which pill to choose. It's about realising you have the power to create your own.

So here's my pātai for you: What system are you trying to fit into that was never designed for you? And what would you build instead if you knew you had the power and strength to do it?

Because the most radical thing you can do isn't rejecting their game or playing by their rules.

It's changing what's possible. And once you know you can create your own options, every choice becomes an act of rangatiratanga.