Review of The Unfakeable Code®
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Nancy Gesake
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Review of The Unfakeable Code®
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Unfakeable Code®" by Tony Jeton Selimi.]
There’s a certain point in *The Unfakeable Code®* where Tony Jeton Selimi takes a sharp turn into the world of high-achievers—executives, CEOs, thought leaders—and instead of celebrating them in the usual polished way, he breaks them down. Not in a cynical or mean-spirited tone, but in a way that’s deeply human. He shows how success, especially the high-profile kind, often masks emotional chaos and quiet desperation. I wasn’t expecting to relate to that part so much, but I did. It turns out that chasing external validation—whether through status, productivity, or the next online milestone—works really well until it doesn’t. And Selimi doesn’t just point that out, he coaches through it, using a mix of value alignment, deep questioning, and emotional decoding to help his clients (and by extension, us) stop performing and start living.
He doesn’t offer a quick-fix mindset shift. Instead, he builds a case for returning to who we were before we learned to trade authenticity for acceptance. For high performers, especially, his approach can feel like being told, “You’ve done everything right—and still ended up feeling wrong. Let’s talk about that.” And that tone, I think, is what makes the coaching segments in the book so compelling. You get to see real stories of people who’ve built empires yet feel disconnected from themselves. One of them, I remember, spoke about achieving global recognition only to realize he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. That kind of honesty is rare in coaching narratives, and it adds depth to Selimi’s framework. He doesn’t separate emotional healing from professional growth—they feed each other. And for readers who operate in high-pressure spaces, that message is powerful.
Now, I’ll admit, there were places where his critique of digital culture and fame felt a bit sharp-edged. Selimi’s honest take on how social media personas corrode self-esteem is, in my opinion, spot-on. But his tone when describing influencers, celebrities, or “lifestyle curators” can lean into judgment, and I wonder if that might turn some readers off—especially those who are genuinely trying to do meaningful work in public spaces. Not everyone curates their life online for hollow validation, and at times the generalization felt a little too broad. That said, I don’t think it comes from a place of arrogance, more like frustration. Frustration with how easy it is to fake being fulfilled and how hard it is to tell when someone’s suffering behind a filtered life.
Still, for me, those moments didn’t take away from the overall experience. Selimi’s message is clear and hard-earned: success without self-awareness is hollow, and leadership without emotional depth is performative at best. His ability to blend that message with real client stories, reflective questions, and a clear coaching model makes the book more than just a personal development read—it feels like a recalibration. One that’s overdue for a lot of us. And I can say, with some certainty, it made me think twice about what I call “goals” and why I’ve been chasing them in the first place. The unfakeable approach? It’s not always comfortable, but it’s probably necessary.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
There’s a certain point in *The Unfakeable Code®* where Tony Jeton Selimi takes a sharp turn into the world of high-achievers—executives, CEOs, thought leaders—and instead of celebrating them in the usual polished way, he breaks them down. Not in a cynical or mean-spirited tone, but in a way that’s deeply human. He shows how success, especially the high-profile kind, often masks emotional chaos and quiet desperation. I wasn’t expecting to relate to that part so much, but I did. It turns out that chasing external validation—whether through status, productivity, or the next online milestone—works really well until it doesn’t. And Selimi doesn’t just point that out, he coaches through it, using a mix of value alignment, deep questioning, and emotional decoding to help his clients (and by extension, us) stop performing and start living.
He doesn’t offer a quick-fix mindset shift. Instead, he builds a case for returning to who we were before we learned to trade authenticity for acceptance. For high performers, especially, his approach can feel like being told, “You’ve done everything right—and still ended up feeling wrong. Let’s talk about that.” And that tone, I think, is what makes the coaching segments in the book so compelling. You get to see real stories of people who’ve built empires yet feel disconnected from themselves. One of them, I remember, spoke about achieving global recognition only to realize he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. That kind of honesty is rare in coaching narratives, and it adds depth to Selimi’s framework. He doesn’t separate emotional healing from professional growth—they feed each other. And for readers who operate in high-pressure spaces, that message is powerful.
Now, I’ll admit, there were places where his critique of digital culture and fame felt a bit sharp-edged. Selimi’s honest take on how social media personas corrode self-esteem is, in my opinion, spot-on. But his tone when describing influencers, celebrities, or “lifestyle curators” can lean into judgment, and I wonder if that might turn some readers off—especially those who are genuinely trying to do meaningful work in public spaces. Not everyone curates their life online for hollow validation, and at times the generalization felt a little too broad. That said, I don’t think it comes from a place of arrogance, more like frustration. Frustration with how easy it is to fake being fulfilled and how hard it is to tell when someone’s suffering behind a filtered life.
Still, for me, those moments didn’t take away from the overall experience. Selimi’s message is clear and hard-earned: success without self-awareness is hollow, and leadership without emotional depth is performative at best. His ability to blend that message with real client stories, reflective questions, and a clear coaching model makes the book more than just a personal development read—it feels like a recalibration. One that’s overdue for a lot of us. And I can say, with some certainty, it made me think twice about what I call “goals” and why I’ve been chasing them in the first place. The unfakeable approach? It’s not always comfortable, but it’s probably necessary.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
