It is one of those strange quirks of life that behaviour we consider to be unique to us and a source of embarrassment is often perfectly normal, whereas things we think are common to all of us turn out to be seriously weird. As an example of the former, I used to be deeply ashamed that, on going to the bathroom in someone else’s house, I could never resist taking a peek in their bathroom cabinet. When I blushingly confessed this to a friend, she snorted and said, ‘Oh, we all do that.’

I mention this because I have a recurring dream concerning latent talent. This is that, having never previously so much as picked up a flute, I give it a go one day to discover I’m a virtuoso. There is another dream involving charcoal and realising I’m Dürer. As in, you never know if you possess a talent until you try. So nuts to Malcolm Gladwell and his 10,000-hours theory of practice. In real life, alas, you wake up. In truth, the only things I have ever shown even a modicum of natural ability in doing are archery and water skiing, neither of which have helped my career.

The fact is that talent comes in many forms – and in many different degrees of usefulness. Many years ago, I had a colleague who was famous for always getting amazing jobs, only to lose them a few months later. It turned out that her real talent was doing interviews. Unfortunately, she had absolutely no talent for actually doing the work once in place. It’s much like the suspicion that our education system rewards people who are good at doing exams rather than being any good.

I was pondering this recently having binge-watched WeCrashed, the dramatisation of the rise and fall of WeWork. What was fascinating about the miniseries was that, underneath it all, it made the tale appear very much like an old-fashioned hustle. Jared Leto as founder Adam Neumann came over as being a lot better at bullshit than business. Nevertheless, this is a talent that has made him a billionaire so perhaps we shouldn’t mock.

In contrast, in The Dropout, the Disney Plus biographical drama miniseries of the Theranos blood-testing scandal, it appeared that Elizabeth Holmes’s great talent was buttering up elderly investors rather than an ability to deliver world-changing biotech. This ended up with a conviction for criminal fraud.

Of course, these are extreme examples. But the truth is that, for better or worse, we all have talents. It’s just a question of recognising them and – hopefully – that the world will recognise them, too. Another person I once worked with was, to all intents and purposes (and to be kind), eccentric. But, among all the mad suggestions, once in a blue moon – and arguably simply by the law of averages – he would come up with a cracking idea that was worth having to wade through all the nonsense to get to. He had a very successful career on the back of this.

Likewise, my father was famously lousy at giving advice – his worst-ever observation was ‘enjoyment is compulsory’ – but he did come up with one gem. In short, you can’t fake hunger. So discover your hidden talent and work on it. You may never play the flute like Sir James Galway, but an ability to chat up accountants can take you far. Though hopefully not to prison.