That is a surprisingly difficult question to answer.
If you asked me during an interview, I would probably give you the professional version. I am a Software Engineering graduate from FPT University, currently working as a Business Analyst. I spend most of my time discussing requirements, analyzing business processes, refining user flows, creating Figma prototypes, and helping turn ideas into software that people can actually use.
That is all true, but it also feels incomplete.
Titles are only part of the story
The older I get, the more I realize that most people are not defined by a job title. A title explains what someone does. It rarely explains how they became that person in the first place.
I grew up in the countryside in Vietnam, and both of my parents are teachers. Looking back, there seemed to be three different worlds that children grew up in. There were the market kids, whose families owned businesses and seemed to have access to everything first. There were the countryside kids, who grew up around farms, rice fields, and football matches played on uneven ground. Then there were kids like me: the children of teachers. We were not necessarily richer or smarter than anyone else, but our lives were more structured. Education mattered, our parents knew each other, and our friend groups were relatively stable.
For a long time, I lived comfortably inside that bubble. Then secondary school happened, and suddenly all of those worlds were pushed together under the same roof. Looking back, I was not always easy to get along with. I was one of those academically focused kids who knew how to solve problems but did not always know how to read a room.
Learning to notice people
Around fifteen, things started changing. Like many teenagers, I got my first serious crush. It sounds insignificant, but it forced me to develop a skill that academics never taught me: paying attention to other people. For the first time, I started caring about how I was perceived. I became more aware of my appearance, my communication, and my place within a social group.
Around the same time, I picked up the guitar, became increasingly interested in English, and slowly started growing out of the version of myself that only knew how to succeed inside a classroom.
High school was probably where I accumulated the most achievements on paper. I performed well academically, won several competitions, and eventually received national-level recognition through the Hoc Sinh 3 Tot program. At the time, I mostly saw certificates and ceremonies. Only years later did I realize that some younger students actually looked up to me.
University changed the game
University changed the game completely. For the first time, I was not automatically one of the strongest students in the room. Ironically, while I became less defined by academics, I became much more active socially. I joined events, participated in volunteer campaigns, met people from completely different backgrounds, and spent less time trying to be impressive and more time trying to be useful.
One volunteer campaign in particular left a lasting impression on me. For a week, we traveled to another province to organize activities for children, distribute gifts, paint schools, and support local communities. The work was not glamorous. We carried supplies, stayed up late, and dealt with whatever needed to be done.
At one point, I took over a night watch shift for another volunteer and ended up functioning on only a couple of hours of sleep before returning to work the next day. I do not mention that because it was heroic. I mention it because it revealed something about myself. I have never been the smartest person in every room, and I have certainly never been the most talented. But I have always been willing to show up, do the work, and keep going when things become inconvenient.
Why BA work feels natural
That trait has followed me into adulthood. Eventually, I graduated with a degree in Software Engineering, but the role I enjoy today is not purely technical. Business Analysis sits between different worlds: business, technology, design, users, developers, and stakeholders. You rarely succeed by having all the answers. You succeed by asking better questions.
That is probably why the role feels natural to me. I have spent most of my life moving between different groups of people and trying to understand how they think.
Outside of work, things are a little less structured. I love football and can spend an unreasonable amount of time discussing tactics, formations, and why midfielders never get enough credit. I play bass guitar, which feels strangely fitting because bass players usually are not the center of attention, but everyone notices when they are missing. I build side projects that nobody asked for, mostly because I find them interesting.
Curiosity is probably the real answer
For a long time, I thought being interested in too many things was a weakness. People admire specialists. The athlete who spent ten years perfecting one position. The musician who dedicated every waking hour to their instrument. The programmer who knew exactly what they wanted to do from the age of twelve.
Meanwhile, I was always bouncing between different interests. It took me a while to realize that curiosity is probably my defining trait. I am interested in technology, but I am also interested in people. I am interested in football, music, design, communication, and understanding how different systems work. Looking back, curiosity has opened more doors for me than specialization ever did.
As for the future, I do not have a grand master plan. I do not dream about becoming a billionaire founder or building the next revolutionary startup. My goals are surprisingly simple: keep learning, keep building useful things, meet interesting people, and become a little better than I was yesterday.
So who is Son Ngo, actually?
A Software Engineering graduate. A Business Analyst. A volunteer. A football fan. A bass player. A curious kid from the countryside who somehow keeps finding himself in new situations and collecting stories along the way.
And honestly, I think I am okay with that.