#32 Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter

One thing is theory, and another is the real world. We hear that in school and learn it (usually) when we start to work, and our books, credits, grades, and hours spent in the library matter no more. Once you work, you are expected to do what you are told because that’s what matters, right?

If you are lucky, you work in something you love. Eventually, you knew what you wanted to do when you were young, pursued your goals, studied, and managed to secure your dream job. If that’s the case, good for you, but…. you might be one of the few, according to my experience. The most realistic scenario is that you had an idea of what you wanted, studied something more or less related to your plan, and landed a job that helped you pay the bills. If you were lucky, you even learned to enjoy what to do, meet nice colleagues, and find a reasonable balance between your job and personal life. If that’s it, I’m happy for you too. I did not know what I wanted to do when I was younger, and when I finally realized what I’d love to study, my life turned like a car in a drifting competition. I did not like most of my University time, but I cannot deny that my penitence helped me to get a job I learned to like, and that springboarded my career in ways I never imagined.

I always took my job seriously; I tried my best, even when some colleagues told me it would not take me anywhere. “Working harder will not give you what you want,” someone said, and he was right, although it took me some time to absorb it because I refused to accept it. Maybe that’s why, for many years, I kept on thriving, climbing the Corporate Ladder, and finally, I found myself in the rooms where things happened— though not always, not all of them, and not how I had imagined. “Never meet your heroes,” someone said, and I would add, “and don’t work with them.” People and jobs can disappoint, no matter how much energy you have spent preparing yourself for the day you finally cross paths.

I have many examples of “too much work for nothing.” I remember some of them with a smile, and others … well, others suck, no matter how much time has passed.

A few years ago, I attended a meeting where I presented a summary of actions to improve some KPIs (Key Performance Indicators). I had one slide—as requested by management to me and the rest of my peers— and I was the last to present it. It felt weird that I was the only one giving details of my improvement plan ( the rest of my colleagues said they had prioritized other parts of the assignment), but when I returned to my seat, I was sure about my good delivery. My good feeling lasted one full minute.

Our manager, concerned about too many things at that point, criticized my presentation because he wanted more details, said nothing about the lack of information from others, and I was sent back to the drawing board to produce something “he could trust.” But, hey, I always loved a good challenge, so that’s exactly what I did: I created the mother of all overviews, easy to read, tweak and replicate in case my colleagues wanted to. I sent it around. Do you know how many people replied? Zero.

I used my overview file to document actions and the impact of those in KPIs for months, and when the yearly results arrived, I could pinpoint not only the improvements but also the reasons that had led to those new promising numbers. I was ecstatic, so I sent (again) another email, asking if anyone had done something similar and if they would like to talk about the possibility of standardizing my approach. Do you know how many people replied? Once more, zero.

Do I regret the time I spent on this? No, because it worked and helped me achieve the necessary results in my job.

Was it recognized by the organization? No, because no one but me cared about that way of working.

What did I learn? If you want to be recognized for your job, make sure it’s wanted, do the Personal Marketing part, sell your job, and make sure it is bought.

No one else worked on that assignment because everyone understood our manager was upset with something else and would forget about that request as soon as he left the room.

So here I am, so many years later, telling you exactly what someone else said many years ago: don’t bother… unless it matters.