It is that time of year again. The time when the air in Nairobi thickens with the scent of auditors combing through a year’s worth of shaky numbers and the collective, desperate rustle of job application letters in weary anticipation of a negative 2025 performance rating.

As the CEO of a top tier manufacturing company, I am frequently asked what my “New Year Resolutions” are. My Board asks because they want to see “growth mindsets.” My HR Director asks because she’s trying to build a “culture of wellness.” Even my personal assistant asked, but I suspect she’s getting tired of wiping the crumbs off my desk from the Danish pastry that I secretly eat every day since I went on this confounded doctor-imposed diet.

Let me be clear: I do not do resolutions. Resolutions are for middle management. They are for people who believe that a calendar flip can magically fix a monumental personality deficit. As the captain of this corporate ship, I’ve decided that for 2026, my resolution is to stay exactly as I am. So here is my non-resolution list for the coming year.

1. Radically Reducing My “Listening” Footprint

In January last year, the head of HR gave me my 360-degree feedback from my direct reports. I was told I needed to be a “better listener.” I tried it for forty-five minutes during a town hall in Q3. It was exhausting. I heard things about “work-life balance” and “the rising cost of ugali.”

This year, I am pivoting to Active Ignoring. I’ve realized that if I listen to everyone, I might accidentally empathize, and empathy is a notorious drag on EBITDA. My goal is to achieve a state of “Uninterrupted Monologue.” If you see me nodding while you speak, please don’t be fooled, I am simply timing my next interruption to the beat of my own genius.

2. Strategic Hibernation of the “Open Door Policy”

I’ve noticed that my “open door policy” has led to people actually walking through the door. This is a massive breach of my personal efficiency. In 2026, the door remains open, but I’ve instructed the facilities team to install a small, decorative moat just inside the threshold. Or perhaps a very confusing bead curtain. I want to remain “accessible” in the same way a mountain peak is accessible: technically possible to reach, but you’ll likely lose a toe to frostbite on the way up.

3. Mastering the Art of “Vague-Tech” Jargon

I realized recently that I still understand some of the words I use. This is a failure of leadership. To truly inspire awe (and fear) in the boardroom, I must become entirely incomprehensible.

I will no longer “sell products.” We will “leverage synergistic ecosystemic touchpoints to facilitate value-crusted frictionless transitions.” If a Board member asks for a profit margin, I will simply stare into the distance and whisper, “The blockchain knows no hunger.” They won’t understand it, but they’ll be too embarrassed to ask for clarification.

4. Fitness (For Others)

People keep talking about “health is wealth.” As a CEO, I prefer “Wealth is Wealth.” However, I will support the fitness movement by being more demanding. I’ve found that screaming into a speakerphone provides an excellent cardio workout for my subordinates. My resolution is to ensure my team hits their 10,000 steps a day—mostly by running back and forth to the printer because I refuse to read anything on a screen.

5. Sustainability (of Self)

There is a lot of talk about ESG what-not. Thank God for that Trump fellow completely trash talking all these 21st century high falutin theorems like diversity, inclusion and climate change. Personally, I am fully committed to the “E” for Ego, where mine must be stroked constantly by those beneath me. I stroked my predecessor’s ego long enough to ensure I was his only succession plan, while wanting to vomit in the back of my throat every time I had to lie to him that he was a brilliant strategist.  I am committed to the “S” for Self-Preservation. I will sustain my current lifestyle by ensuring that any “tightening of belts” happens at least three pay grades below mine. I am also committed to the “G” for Gubernatorial aspirations. Our raw material source markets in certain counties, including my own home county, have significantly elevated my profile when I make the compulsory annual stakeholder engagement tours. What better way to launch a governor career than to ensure that my next 2 years before retirement is spent with the farmers as this company “supports” their initiatives?

In conclusion, to my fellow C-suite residents: stop trying to be “better.” Being “better” implies you weren’t already perfect when you received your last bonus check. Let the plebeians drink their sugarless black tea and wake up at 4:00 AM to meditate. Us guys at the top, we roll different!

X: @carolmusyoka

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