I like to think that I'm good at what I do for a living. It's a niche living in a small but essential industry surrounding software of the B2B variety. But for the past few years, the work has been enjoyable, but the lack of progress has not, and it's that lack of progress that has been brought into focus lately and forced me to confront some things about the nature of work, and myself.
People look upon life in many ways. From my particular perspective, life is more or less a struggle people engage in to reach points in their life where they find happiness and consider themselves a success. Invariably, they focus on particular avenues in which success seems to them to be the most likely. For most people, this means parenthood. People want to have kids, to some extent, because they think they can be good parents, or better than their parents, at least, and produce a positive result of which they can be proud, the crowning achievement of their life's work. Either parenthood or the startup of your own business come with the largest internal locus of control opportunities, and those are the ones people seize most often.
Some of us either have no opportunity or desire to be parents. Or, we try and be parents, recognize we aren't very good at it and just put that on auto pilot, or disappear altogether, and focus on something else. Sometimes, it's a hobby. Sometimes, it's a spouse, but, most often, it's work.
There are social scientists and labor analysts that will tell you that this desire to be good at what we do, rather than seeing work as a means to an end, will fade as workforces become more contingent and Millenials become a larger portion of the labor market. I'm not so sure. I think businesses want that to happen so they can artificially depress wages.
But I digress.
One of the realizations that I've had recently is that I've tied a great deal of identity into my work. In my mid 20s I fell backward into the industry I am in now, working in an environment that was go-go (all late 90s tech environments were go-go). As that particular business, headed by a CEO that couldn't match his belt with his shoes, always a bad sign, was collapsing, I had the good fortune to land on my feet with the predominant player in this particular industry.
After a few years, I became very good at what I did. After a few more years, I was still really good at what I did. After even more years, I was still really good at what I did. I was told it, my results showed it, consistently. My peers respected me. My contemporaries requested me.
But one day, you wake up and realize that all the good work you're doing isn't getting you anywhere within the confines of your employer. That, ultimately, all your hard work and dedication is going to get you is a paycheck. A nice paycheck, but a paycheck. Where is there to go, one must ask, once you top out the career path established for you?
To someone who has invested their identity in their hobbies, their relationships or other external pursuits, this doesn't really matter. The truth is, you just suck it up and focus on other things that fulfill your identity and bring you joy in life. Work becomes a means to an end.
There comes a point, then, where you have to acknowledge that the opportunities you are looking for to grow professionally are simply not going to come from where you are, and make a change. So, I did.
The problem with making a change, however, is not simply a matter of "is the grass greener on the other side." There is no "other side". There are many sides. Some sides are built on shakier ground than others. For a time, the next yard had grass that was very green. There was the fulfillment of being listened to and the latitude to create an organization in the way I had always asked for. Unfortunately, it was built on top of the sinkhole of poor managerial foundation. Did I get recognized for the skill set I brought to this employer? Absolutely. Did I accomplish great things? You bet. Did what I built last? Nope.
The next two stops have proven no better. They have all been filled with nice people. Well intended. Most of whom, with some notable exceptions, were making the best of the skill sets they had and the situations they were in. And they looked at my skill set, and my resume, and said "My God, you're brilliant. We have to have you. We have no idea what to do with you, or who we are, or how we're organized, but we must have you." And by and large, I've had opportunities to expand my skill set and be a backseat leader at both. But the limitations of backseat leadership are evident. You don't grow into a front seat leader when you walk in the door a backseat leader and, over time, other members of the organization grow to resent your attempts at backseat leadership whether they're valid or not. (Part of backseat leadership involves telling front seat leaders that they suck, and they don't appreciate it.)
One of the misnomers that we are taught when we are young is that our society functions, particularly professionally, as a meritocracy. We learn in the classroom, if we're paying attention, that this isn't even close to true. Every classroom has a teacher's pet that gets preferential treatment. Yet we still think that, to some extent, we advance in life based on our merits. That hard, competent work results in a reward beyond a more than adequate paycheck and whatever self satisfaction we're supposed to receive as a job well done.
And even if we know the meritocratic idea isn't really true at the core, we nonetheless think in our own minds that we can beat the system and be the beneficiary of what little meritocratic decency remains in the corporate world.
But the truth, when it hits you, and it will hit you, is quite harsh. Hard work, dedication and competency do matter. Drive matters. Desire matters. But what seems to matter most of all is being in the right place at the right time, and getting the attention of not just the right person, but the right person who, in turn, has the right skill set and the right set of people around him or her to make the business around you thrive.
I happened across the LinkedIn profile of someone with a similar number of years of experience in the field to me. For four years, he had the same job as I did. For the next three years, he managed people one level above me. For two years, he was Vice President, and for two years, he has been the President of the Company. His educational background was the same, essentially, as mine. It is a smaller vendor in the same space within which I operate. Is he smarter and more talented than I am? Probably not. Does he have different strengths and weaknesses than I do? Most likely. Some of those are inherit, some are addressed through opportunity. These are things I see when I examine my contemporaries and peers in the managerial structure at my current position as well.
This is not a woe-is-me tale. I'm not writing to you to tell you I've been screwed over by anyone, because I haven't. There are very few people I've worked with professionally that I dislike. On the whole, I don't have many regrets. I'm still very good at what I do and generally well respected. The core of my work is still kind of fun. I get along with a great set of equal level co-workers. My direct report boss is great. My workplace is stable.
I'd love to hit you with a well cemented conclusion. But I don't really have one. Other than to suggest that many of us are confronted with the idea of what getting somewhere in business really means. For every person that rises to by President of the Company, there are two, or three, or four who are equally talented, either internally or externally, that don't get the job. And where do they go? What do they do? How do they adjust to the realization that, in the eyes of someone else, they aren't good enough to go beyond where they are right now? No matter how good they are at what it is they're doing.
Are we best suited simply doing what we are best at, getting even better at it and serving out our days being the best we can be at something? For some of us, should we just be happy that the journey is the destination, rather than constantly striving for more? Is it just time to face that morning, look around, say to ourselves "this is all there is," and make the best of it?
On July 12th, the movie 20 Feet From Stardom will hit theaters. It is a documentary about life as a backup singer. Perhaps some answers are there.
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There's a flip side to this discussion, and it's on organizational inertia. It's worth examining, and we'll do so. In fewer than four months from now. I promise.
