I was recently passed over for a promotion that I thought was in the bag.
When I got word that I wouldn’t get it, I felt angry and disillusioned, my default rejection script running through my head: They don’t appreciate me. They don’t see me. I am overworked. I try so hard. I make this company good money, so why won’t they recognize me? Why wasn’t I chosen?
My manager could sense my blazing disappointment through Slack and put a meeting on my calendar an hour before I was supposed to sign off for Christmas break. I didn’t really want to talk and was late to the meeting. Still, he was skillful and compassionate in how he directed the conversation.
He started with curiosity, asking me questions about my perspective.
My manager only recently became my manager. Before he was a manager, he was simply my more senior work buddy and an elite meme exchanger. So, I’ve always been totally frank with him, even after he became my supervisor.
When he asked me what my five year goals were, I laughed.
“I don’t have any. Why bother with forecasting five years out? Life has been too wild and unpredictable to make that a worthwhile exercise, and the most unpredictable part is me.”
“Ha, okay, well what about one year goals then?” he asked.
“Hmmm, I can’t name anything specific. I realize that is not an impressive answer. I just know I want to see progress. I want to grow and move forward. And be recognized for it.”
He asked me more questions specific to the company, and my role within it. How did I see my future there, did I like the clients, did I even like the work. He seemed to see something I didn’t.
I couldn’t wholeheartedly say yes, I like it, yes, I see the future. All I could squeak out was a meager uncertainty, “I’m not really sure right now.”
Finally, he let me down easy.
“I have seen a tremendous amount of growth in you this year, and I think you are ready, or close to, but some of the leadership team doesn’t think so, and I will cite a specific example: Project X.”
[The project is not called Project X but that’s what we’ll call it here, for obvious reasons.]
He continued, “You were put on Project X to lead, but it seems another, younger designer is leading that project. Many of the leadership team have pointed to this project as evidence you may not be ready for advancement. You say you want to move up, but you didn’t take the chance to lead. Do you think that is true, that you passed on leading this project?”
This example punched me in the gut. I caught my breath before blurting out, “Yes, that is 100% true.”
I couldn’t try to spin it. I avoided that project like the plague, putting in the bare minimum. I tend to put all my energy toward projects I really believe in. And I don’t believe in this one. I just didn’t realize until that very moment how much I unconsciously ran from it.
We spoke for a few more minutes.
“Thank you for talking with me,” I said, suddenly in a rush to get off the call, “I really appreciate it. You’ve given me a lot to think about and I will think about it. Merry Christmas, see you in the new year!”
I hung up and let my eager tears flow. The deep frustration and embarrassment felt hot on my cheeks. I still feel little pangs of shame as I write this. I asked myself why I had turned away from opportunity. Why did I not jump on the chance to lead?
And the truth hit me again, like another punch in the gut: I simply don’t want to.
I don’t want to.
I feel like our new 80 pound guard dog named Chuck. When Chuck the Great Pyrenees refuses to move, he sinks into the ground with all of his might and all of his will until you realize your own futility and give up.
Chuck! Move, you dingleberry! I yell, tugging on his collar. He is committed to his piece of earth. Stone-footed.
I don’t want to.
In my tears, all became clear: my current role is at odds with many parts of me. The role doesn’t capitalize on my natural strengths. I am a firm believer in doubling down on what comes easily to me instead of trying to fix what doesn’t.
Agency pace is grueling and I prefer for more time for creative reflection and experimentation.. I described to Matt that I felt like a charioteer over her strained horses, lording over my precious creativity with a whip, urging it to go faster, faster, faster, and bigger, and better while she’s at it.
That is not how the muse works and now she is on strike. Professionals call it burnout.
Plus, I am still breastfeeding. My baby and I miss each other when I’m camped out in my office for most of the day. Doesn’t seem right to be so close yet so distant.
I wanted the promotion so badly for my own ego’s sake. In the months previous, I compared my career to former classmates, to colleagues, to some imaginary timeline and some imaginary status game. I wanted to feel more legitimate, more accomplished, more special. Instead, I felt miserable, jealous, and tired.
My goal to obtain a senior title was not made mindfully, it was default mode. Old programming from the mode of a past self, the childhood overachiever eager to please.
I wanted the recognition, not out of love for the work, but because I wanted to say, I have been chosen.
I stumbled upon the book The Pathless Path by Paul Millerd, which floated down from a digital cloud at the exact moment I needed it, offering solidity to the fragmented truth I was trying to piece together.
He says, “On the pathless path, the goal is not to find a job, make money, build a business, or achieve any other metric. [The goal] is to actively and consciously search for the work that you want to keep doing… With this approach, it doesn’t make sense to chase any financial opportunity if you can’t be sure you will like the work. What does make sense is the experimenting with different kinds of work, and once you find something worth doing, working backward to build a life around being able to keep doing it.”
The pathless path resonates: find something worth doing and build towards being able to keep doing it. Build around the expression that intrinsically pours forth, instead of scaffolding toward an outcome that may or may not feel fulfilling.
I won’t quit my job this very moment, as I consider my familial and financial obligations. We feed many critters and stewarding our little chunk of land requires cashflow. I will return to the Slack channel on January 3rd, like everyone else with a laptop job.
But this year, I choose to do things a little differently. I am not orienting around “building a business” or “an audience.” I instead see myself exploring work and purpose for the sake of it.
I envision experiments of all sorts, driven by a mounting curiosity, not a marketing plan.
I see myself overcoming my fear of changing in public, creating with ease and iterating as needed.
I hope to document these learnings and observations here, to see what unfurls, and to show my growing baby what it means to labor with love and purpose and self-expression.
I choose this path and in doing so, I choose myself.
Thanks for reading. I hope your 2023 is prosperous and full of love. May you compost your failures and redirections of last year into fertile ground for growth and transformation this year. What are your visions for the upcoming year?
Beautifully written. June will be so proud of her mother’s words some day when she is old enough to understand. ❤️