From Exceptional to “You’re Okay”

You can have precisely the same CV, the same years of study, the same sleepless nights… and then discover, after moving to another country, that you’ve gone from “outstanding profile” to… “perfectly adequate profile”. Apparently, the value of the work travels a bit faster than the people who produce it. (And honestly, what does “perfectly adequate” even mean?)

We often talk about “elitism” as a dirty word and “mediocrity” as a final verdict on a person. In practice, these are mostly labels stuck on people according to criteria that shift with cultures, school systems and professional environments. Being “average” can feel like a disaster in one place and a very respectable position in another, especially when the main goal is to stay afloat, pay the rent, and keep a bit of mental health intact.

In some contexts, a 14 out of 20 is almost a veiled threat. The diploma itself is barely celebrated, and perseverance even less so. What really counts is your rank, the prestige of the institution, and the “brilliant” nature of your trajectory. Elitism is not something to call out; it is simply the default setting. Anything that doesn’t flirt with “excellent” is filed under “could do better”. A moment of hesitation, a change of discipline, a career shift is enough to push you into the category of people who “don’t know what they want”. Someone who has lived several lives, in several countries and several languages, is very often seen as scattered rather than experienced. Versatility is far less impressive than the name of the school printed at the top of the diploma.

Elsewhere, the scene is almost reversed. Introducing yourself as “excellent”, detailing your achievements, and stating your ambitions clearly very quickly makes people uncomfortable. Reassuring profiles are preferred: those who repeatedly say they still have a lot to learn, who insist on how lucky they are to be there, and who emphasize the importance of teamwork. In these environments, you can be highly competent, but it is considered good manners to say it quietly. The person who shows up with very elitist reflexes, performance-based language and a habit of demanding a lot is soon given charming labels like “intense”, “perfectionist”, or simply “a bit too much”. Mediocrity, meanwhile, still exists, but when it is calm, polite and smiling, it moves quite freely.

Language adds another layer to this shadow play. Saying that a piece of work is “fine” can be a discreet compliment or a polite way of saying you’re disappointed. “Average” can mean “pretty good, given the context” or “really below what was expected”. The word “excellent” itself doesn’t carry the same weight depending on whether it is used sparingly or handed out every time something is submitted on time. It is not just a matter of vocabulary: behind each adjective there is a whole story of norms, thresholds and habits.

And of course, not all sectors have the same margin for error. In some professional fields, a degree of elitism is directly linked to responsibility: no one wants a surgery that is “more or less satisfactory”, a court interpretation that is “roughly accurate”, or a bridge that is “pretty well built”. In other contexts, however, a vague organisation, loose deadlines or incomplete information seem to be part of the landscape. People talk about “adjustments”, “on-the-ground realities” or “logistical constraints”. Behind these euphemisms, there is sometimes a very stable, almost comfortable mediocrity.

Instead of asking whether people are “too elitist” or “not demanding enough”, it becomes more interesting to look at where the criteria themselves come from. Who decided that this specific level of language, rigour, availability or productivity would count as the minimum acceptable standard here? When were these norms set? Who do they really serve? There is often much less objectivity than we like to claim… and far more history, power relations and imported traditions that no one has ever really questioned.

Behind every accusation of “mediocrity”, there is a particular idea of what a good trajectory, a good service, a good performance should look like. Behind every denunciation of “elitism”, there is often the fear of being kept at arm’s length because you come from somewhere else, you have a different accent, an unknown diploma or a trajectory that doesn’t fit the boxes. Laying these standards out on the table, naming them, and explaining them is not an abstract luxury. It’s what makes evaluations a little fairer, feedback a little less destructive, and what sometimes allows us to recognise genuine skill where we had lazily seen a “cultural exception”. In the end, the real question may not be whether we live in a society that is too elitist or too forgiving. It might be this one instead: “Who set the bar where it is, and who actually benefits from this way of measuring excellence and mediocrity?”