Why Humility Matters in Leadership

Looking back, I feel like a completely different person now – and I’m sure my teachers and classmates would agree. I had a great time at De La Salle, wasn’t massively academic, and if I’m honest, I didn’t apply myself in my studies as much as I should or could have. I was very much a B–C grade student, doing just enough, and like many teenagers, my attention was pulled more towards friends, sport and social interests.

One of the most enduring things De La Salle gave me was manners and humility. I have vivid memories of being expected to open doors for teachers and always say please and thank you. Those habits sound small, but they’ve stayed with me and genuinely shape how I behave now. From a leadership perspective, I think manners cost nothing – and they really do matter.

Sport was the other big influence. I represented the Island at football at every age group possible, often playing three or four years above my age, and I went off island on trial at professional clubs. That taught me to be comfortable in environments that could otherwise feel intimidating, where you’re surrounded by people who seem better, older, faster, stronger. That’s been invaluable in business and leadership – being able to walk into a room, stay calm, and hold your own.

It also taught me resilience. You take knocks, you doubt yourself, you don’t always get picked, you don’t always win – but you keep going. That same resilience is essential in start-ups.

And lastly – I probably showed my entrepreneurial streak early. I once ran an illegal tuck shop out of my locker with a mate, buying sweets in bulk after school and selling them at break time until we were eventually “raided” by the teachers. It didn’t last long, but it showed I liked making things happen and earning money – even if the execution needed refining!

In a way, yes – although not directly or in a neat line.

Harry and I were in a few of the same classes and mostly just had a laugh together at school in between lessons with our close friendship group. We weren’t the most academic or the most well-behaved, but we had strong relationships and a shared sense of where we came from.

What De La Salle did give us was a shared foundation and trust. Years later, we were able to reconnect naturally and work together without any drama. That’s actually been true of many De La Salle friendships – you might not see someone for 10 years, bump into them back in Jersey, and it feels seamless, as if no time has passed.

I’ve recently reconnected with another school friend who’s returned to the island after years away, and it’s exactly the same. I think that says a lot about the culture and values the school instilled. Those bonds last – and when you’re starting a business, trust and shared values matter more than people realise.

Three things stand out.

First, values and principles – specifically manners and humility. De La Salle was excellent at teaching basic respect: say please and thank you, open doors, treat people properly, and don’t act like you’re better than anyone else. As I’ve grown into leadership roles, I’ve found humility is a real strength. People (be it customers or employees, etc.) respond far better when you treat them well and genuinely want to do the right thing.

Second, having fun. I had a lot of fun at school (maybe too much in my parents’ eyes!), and I still think that matters. Leadership doesn’t mean being stiff or unapproachable. You can be professional and still be a normal person, have a laugh, and show personality – as long as there’s a clear line and respect is maintained.

Third, relationships. De La Salle exposed me to a wide group of people who shared similar values, and those relationships have stayed with me. In business – and especially in Jersey - relationships matter. Trust matters. And often those foundations are laid long before you realise how valuable they’ll become.

It was very unintentional. I finished my sports course at Highlands earlier than expected and at that point I mainly wanted to earn some money. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do once it became clear professional sport wasn’t going to happen for me. I found temporary work supporting the JFSC processing annual returns – back when they arrived in boxes by the thousands. My job was very mundane: date-stamping forms, checking they were completed and signed, processing cheques and reconciling them at the end of the day. It wasn’t glamorous.

What I did have, though, was reliability. I turned up on time every day and worked hard, and I was the only one offered a permanent role as a trainee Registry Officer. I still didn’t really understand regulation at that point, but over time I attended briefings and listened to senior speakers across the organisation. I remember being genuinely impressed and thinking they must be incredibly clever – and, if I’m being completely honest, I assumed they must also be well paid. That combination appealed to me.

One early mentor asked me a question I’ve never forgotten: did I want to be known as Charlie Petulla – the cheeky footballer – or Charlie Petulla – the hard-working professional, who earns respect? That was the moment I reflected properly and decided to up my game.

From there, I sought opportunities, built relationships and applied for a role in supervision. I knew learning was the only way to grow because I didn’t have the experience. I also had a couple of subject matter experts I really looked up to, and the structured development at the JFSC played a big role in shaping my work ethic and career direction.

The biggest challenge was adjusting my mindset from purely regulatory thinking to commercial decision-making.

The JFSC gave me a solid foundation, but I realised that to really progress I needed industry experience – you can’t just rely on theoretical regulatory knowledge. I remember having a candid conversation with the now Director General, who said the most effective way for me to move forward was likely to go into industry. It was difficult to hear, but I knew she was right.

Moving to Standard Bank Offshore was a game changer. I was suddenly around people with a very different mindset – people who were business focused, solution orientated and thinking “how do we move things forward, safely?” rather than “what’s the issue, and could it have been done differently?”. I had to adapt quickly.

That challenge has also been the most rewarding part. I’ve learned a huge amount about business acumen, leadership, and resilience from working in a fast-paced environment with high expectations. Our Chief Executive, Charles Molteno, is someone I really admire from a leadership standpoint: calm presence, clear judgement, empowering people while staying strategic. The biggest reward for me has been being surrounded by and learning from very capable people.

I only really understood the power of learning after school.

Once I started to see where I wanted to go, I became a big believer in working backwards to achieve those goals. I knew that if I wanted to hold senior roles like MLCO with line management responsibility, it made sense to build experience and credibility through the MLRO role first. To do that properly, I needed qualifications.

The Diploma in AML gave me the technical grounding that helped me step into the MLRO role when it became available. Later, the Diploma in Governance, Risk and Compliance supported the next goal of being MLCO. I wasn’t doing these for the sake of collecting certificates – I was doing them strategically to build capability and confidence for my future self.

And I’ve also learned that certain skills, like governance and risk skills translate well beyond finance, which has been invaluable as I’ve stepped into entrepreneurship and community roles.

The spark came from my wife, Alicia, on holiday in Greece in April 2021 – so she deserves the credit. We were talking about the future, and she identified that Jersey lacked a modern Uber-like service. It was one of those moments where you think “that sounds too simple”… but actually, it’s not a bad idea. The question is where do you start?

I spent the rest of that holiday researching from the sun lounger. When I got home, I virtually met tech providers and learned how booking and dispatch systems worked in the UK and elsewhere. It became clear there was a gap in Jersey.

With a full-time job, I could only take it so far, so I asked my co-founder to help progress it because he was already in that industry. My finance background also made me very conscious of ESG and net zero direction of travel, so from early on we decided to build Ryde as a fully electric service.

Things evolved quickly. We ordered our first vehicle and employed our first driver while we were still configuring the system – which in hindsight was brave, maybe slightly mad, but it forced momentum. One of the smartest things we did early was invest in branding and marketing, and also ESG consultants. That meant we started properly, with values and standards embedded from day one.

We also avoided a big “all systems go” launch because Jersey is unforgiving on customer service. If you disappoint people early, you don’t get many second chances. Building Ryde has been exhausting at times but genuinely rewarding. It’s taught me more about leadership than any textbook could.

Education is important to me because I’ve seen how much it can change someone’s trajectory – and I do sometimes regret not investing more in myself when I was younger.

Highlands felt like a natural way to give back. It’s a voluntary role, but one where I can support the community while developing my own governance and leadership capability. As an ex-Highlands student, I’m particularly keen on bridging the gap between the board and the student experience.

I’ve been genuinely blown away by the achievements of students and the calibre of expertise across the senior leadership team. Attending the University College Jersey awards and seeing the talent coming through was a highlight. Looking ahead, supporting the delivery of a new, modern campus is exciting because it will genuinely impact the island’s future skills base.

I personally feel strongly about keeping strategic opportunities on-island – giving more major contracts and opportunities to local talent, rather than defaulting to off-island providers, as an easy route.

This was a genuine passion of mine – I absolutely loved working closely with my Dad as the manager. We had an unbelievable squad, and I knew instantly we had an opportunity to do things that hadn’t been done before based on the pure talent available.

There were inevitably differences of opinion with my Dad on team selection, but I always respected his role as manager while still trying to put my perspective across and influence decisions constructively. That dynamic taught me a lot about leadership – you don’t always agree, but you align on standards, trust the role each person plays, and stay focused on the bigger goal.

I was always pushing for ideas on how we could be better. Before the 2015 Island Games, I remember asking G4S for some big green bins and a fishmonger for access to their ice machine. I went down early morning to Springfield and filled the makeshift “ice bins” ready for the afternoon match. It sounds small, but the girls felt professional – and it gave us a psychological edge over other teams.

My Dad has a old school style of management – desire and commitment can beat talent. But we had both. I played recently at a high level, so I could help technically, while my Dad instilled the mindset of leaving everything on the pitch.

We also expanded the management team to bring in other skill sets. We had a top class goalkeeping coach in Jason Carpenter and a sports performance coach in Jimmy Kelly (although I had to convince my Dad on that one – if Jimmy’s reading this, he’ll know exactly what I mean!). That taught me the importance of surrounding yourself with trusted people who complement you and bring fresh perspectives.

The lessons translate directly into business: embed principles and values, invest in preparation, build resilience, and get the right people around you. Looking back, what we achieved was incredible – we won the Muratti 9–0 (the highest scoreline in women’s Muratti history) and were the first Jersey women’s team to win gold at the Island Games on home soil, with record crowds. For many people, it was one of the highlights of the Jersey Island Games – and it still makes me proud.

In the words of Del Boy: “He who dares, wins… and he who hesitates, don’t”. I’ve always loved Only Fools and Horses, and Del Boy’s “will do” attitude. He wasn’t the most polished businessman, but he always saw opportunity and was willing to have a go.

That’s the biggest advice I’d give: try things. Put yourself into uncomfortable situations. Have conversations that feel slightly out of reach. Take strategic risks – ask yourself “what’s the worst that can happen?” and then work out how to manage and avoid those things from materialising.

Work backwards from a big goal. Have a rough plan of where you want to go, then take actions aligned to that path. If the plan changes, that’s fine – it still changes often for me too. The key is to keep learning, stay resilient, and don’t let fear of looking stupid stop you from progressing.