So You Wanna Be a CEO?

Published May 25, 2025

Congratulations! You’ve decided to aim for the C-suite, specifically the glittering, golden throne of the Chief Executive Officer. The CEO: the corporate equivalent of a rock star, minus the talent, the stage, or the adoring fans who actually care about what you produce. But who needs fans when you have a corner office, a private jet, and a LinkedIn profile that screams “visionary leader”? Let’s dive into the real skills, strategies, and sheer audacity it takes to become a CEO in today’s world of buzzwords, PowerPoint decks, and absolutely zero accountability. Buckle up—this is going to be a sarcastic, soul-crushing ride through the land of executive privilege.

Step 1: Master the Art of Saying Nothing Profusely

To be a CEO, you must perfect the ability to speak for hours without conveying a single meaningful idea. This is the cornerstone of executive communication. Your job is to fill boardroom air with phrases like “synergy,” “disruptive innovation,” “core competencies,” and “leveraging our verticals.” If someone asks you what any of these mean, just pivot to “it’s about creating shareholder value.” No one will dare challenge you, because admitting they don’t understand would expose them as less-than-visionary.

Practice this by attending meetings and contributing vague platitudes like, “Let’s circle back to ensure alignment on our strategic imperatives.” Pro tip: always carry a laser pointer. It distracts from the fact that your presentation has no substance. If you’re feeling fancy, throw in a 3D pie chart. No one knows why it’s 3D, but it looks expensive, and that’s the point.

Step 2: Dress Like You’re Auditioning for a Yacht Catalog

Appearance is everything. You’re not just a person; you’re a brand. Invest in tailored suits that cost more than your employees’ annual salaries. If you’re a tech CEO, swap the suit for a $200 black t-shirt, $500 jeans, and sneakers that look like they were designed by a toddler with a crayon obsession. The goal is to signal that you’re above the rules of normal human attire. Bonus points if you wear a smartwatch that tracks your steps but never leave your office chair.

Your grooming routine should take longer than your average employee’s commute. Perfect that “I just rolled out of a private jet but also care about the environment” look. A touch of gray in your hair helps—nothing screams “I’ve seen things” like premature aging from stress you’ve outsourced to your underlings.

Step 3: Build a Cult of Personality

CEOs don’t have colleagues; they have worshippers. Your job is to inspire blind devotion without ever doing anything tangible. Start by crafting a personal narrative that’s one part rags-to-riches, one part “I’m just like you, but better.” Did you grow up middle class? Perfect—call it “humble beginnings.” Did you once make your own coffee? That’s a “bootstrap story.” Spin it like you’re one hardship away from a Hollywood biopic.

Next, dominate social media. Post cryptic X updates like, “Big things coming. Stay tuned. #Leadership.” Share photos of yourself speaking at conferences with captions about “redefining the future.” Never specify what you’re redefining—it keeps the mystique alive. If anyone questions your vision, block them. You don’t have time for dissent when you’re busy being iconic.

Step 4: Delegate Everything, Take Credit for Everything

The beauty of being a CEO is that you’re never actually responsible for anything. Your team does the work; you do the TED Talk. Hire smart people, preferably ones desperate for your approval, and let them handle the pesky details like product development, customer service, or basic math. Your role is to swoop in at the last minute, tweak a font on the pitch deck, and claim you “steered the ship.”

If something goes wrong, blame the market, the economy, or “unforeseen headwinds.” If something goes right, it’s because of your “strategic foresight.” Never admit to mistakes—CEOs don’t make them. They “pivot.” Spilled coffee on your laptop? That’s a pivot to a paperless workflow. Company tanking? Pivot to a new industry. It’s not failure; it’s “exploring new opportunities.”

Step 5: Attend Endless Conferences

Conferences are the CEO’s natural habitat. These are the places where you can network with other CEOs, exchange meaningless jargon, and collect awards for things like “Thought Leadership in Disruptive Ecosystems.” Never miss a panel discussion—it’s your chance to pontificate about AI, blockchain, or whatever buzzword is trending on X that week. You don’t need to understand the technology; just say it’s “game-changing” and move on.

Pro tip: always have a keynote speech ready. It should be 20 minutes long, include at least one Steve Jobs quote, and end with a vague call to “change the world.” If you’re feeling bold, throw in a slide about sustainability. It doesn’t matter if your company produces single-use plastic straws—greenwashing is a CEO’s best friend.

Step 6: Obsess Over Your Personal Brand

Your company might be bleeding cash, but your personal brand must remain untarnished. Hire a PR team to ensure your name appears in Forbes’ “30 Under 30” (or “50 Over 50,” depending on your age). Get featured in puff pieces about your morning routine—make it sound like you meditate for two hours, run a marathon, and read War and Peace before breakfast. In reality, you’re scrolling X and yelling at your assistant for getting your latte order wrong, but the public doesn’t need to know that.

If scandal strikes, don’t worry. A well-timed apology video (shot in soft lighting with a puppy in the background) can fix anything. Cry if you must, but make sure it’s a single, photogenic tear. Then pivot to a new venture, preferably something involving “AI-powered wellness” or “decentralized finance.” No one will remember the scandal by the time you’re on your next podcast.

Step 7: Ignore the Actual Business

Here’s the dirty little secret of being a CEO: the business is secondary. Your real job is to keep investors happy, not customers. Spend your days wooing venture capitalists with promises of “10x growth” and “first-mover advantage.” If they ask for actual numbers, distract them with a flashy demo or a catered lunch. Numbers are for accountants; you’re a visionary.

Your product? Doesn’t matter. It could be a revolutionary app, a new kind of widget, or just a vague concept like “community-driven solutions.” The key is to keep the hype train moving. Announce partnerships with big names, even if they’re just exploratory talks. Issue press releases about “milestones” like hiring a new CFO or moving to a fancier office. If anyone asks about revenue, say you’re “pre-revenue” and pivot to talking about your company’s culture.

Step 8: Master the Exit Strategy

Every CEO knows the endgame isn’t running a successful business—it’s cashing out. Your goal is to inflate your company’s valuation to absurd levels, then sell it to a bigger, dumber company before anyone notices there’s no substance behind the hype. Alternatively, take it public via an IPO, watch the stock soar for a week, then quietly sell your shares before the inevitable crash.

If the company tanks, don’t worry—you’re untouchable. Golden parachutes ensure you walk away with millions, while your employees scramble for new jobs. Write a memoir about your “journey,” land a teaching gig at a business school, and start advising startups on how to “scale.” Rinse and repeat.

The Grand Finale: No Product, No Problem

At the end of the day, after all the meetings, keynotes, and X posts, you’ll realize something profound: you didn’t actually produce anything. No groundbreaking product, no life-changing service, not even a halfway decent cup of coffee. Your company might have a sleek logo and a mission statement about “empowering the future,” but the shelves are empty. You spent your days strategizing, synergizing, and self-aggrandizing, while the actual work—building something useful—was left to the minions who don’t get invited to Davos.

But that’s the beauty of being a CEO. You don’t need a product to be successful. You just need a story, a suit, and the unshakeable belief that you’re the smartest person in the room. So go forth, aspiring CEO. Book that private jet, slap your name on a building, and revel in the glory of doing absolutely nothing while convincing the world you’re everything.

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