Oracle recently fired 30,000 people, or 20% of their staff. The layoffs came after billionaire Larry Ellison, posted a 95% net income increase last qtr, nearly a $6 billion gain.

Every tech firm says the cuts are necessary because of their investment in AI. Oracle signed a $300 billion 10-year deal deal with Altman last year. Let’s do the math. Assume that each person averages $150K, then they’ve just cut $4.5 billion in expenses. So. Oracle is spending 30 billion in AI. To fire people, which is known to cut innovation rates because people shut down when under threat. All to supposedly “save” a few billion. Even as they have the money to do both.

That math aint mathing, as my niece would say.

Here’s the tension: If AI can write our emails, analyze data, and generate code, then machines outperform humans on nearly everything we currently measure: speed, productivity, and task completion.

Based on these measures, humans lose. Their jobs. Their dignity. Their worth.

A recent management study shows that AI can help people do 12% more work, 25% faster — but it gets the answers wrong 19% of the time. That’s a telling number. And helps us to understand what we’re all experiencing. We’re optimizing for output instead of what matters.

If businesses value motion and not direction, they’re all acting like Wile E. Coyote, sprinting forward ever faster towards the cliff— only to realize, a beat too late, there’s no ground beneath them.

So if I were in charge of Oracle, you know what I’d do?

I’d value my people. By changing what I measure.

Speed/productivity/and task completion are not accurate measures of how well my people are performing.

But curiosity, competence, and generative thinking are. That’s because they’re tied to the 3 levers of innovation:: access to new and novel ideas, whether those ideas are joined together into real and robust solutions, and whether we’re solving the problems that matter.

I’ve researched and named the 24 intangibles that matter in the AI age. Exactly because of this dilemma that Oracle faced. The wrong measures force the wrong decisions. To fire people rather than invest in them.

Oh, you know what else I’d do? I’d stop giving Altman all my money because it’s a house of cards over there. Altman has never kept any promise he’s ever made, as the New Yorker has reported. And so he’s the one guy I would fire.

3 BY 2

Recommended listens:

1. The Shift Forward with Dr. Cindy Pace: unpacking the trust megaSHIFT from institutional promises to earned trust, credibility, and transparency.

2. Coaching for Leaders with Dave Stachowiak: Why Talent Never Begs.

3. Meg and Amy Show: Why “hiring A-players” limits us.

Recommended books:

1. Our Best Work by Nilofer Merchant

2. Uncompete by Ruchika T. Malhotra

3. How Not to Use AI by Abi Awomosu

May Norm:

CHANGE THE METRICS

Limiting norm: SUCCESS

Leading Indicator: FREEDOM

What Oracle is doing is driven by the metrics it already uses to define success. By those measures, success means faster and more.

Those metrics are rooted in the cost of capital, where people are treated primarily as a cost to be managed rather than as a source of value creation.

If we want this to change, we need new metrics—ones that recognize and reward the intangibles: human insight, creativity, trust, and collaboration. These are the true drivers of our best work.

Events:

5/31 Los Gatos.

I’m speaking on Leadership and specifically chapter 13 of OUR BEST WORK, the harm of servant leadership. While it’s at my home church, the community is invited to attend.

Lunch is going to be provided which is why we need you to RSVP here: https://forms.gle/k94Gh4HdSdJTGM5C9

So many of us are. Young adults who couldn’t step into a career after college. Workers told to use AI or else. People who wished for the raise could have kept a colleague instead.

It feels more than a little crazy to be introducing a book into this context. When most of us are so overwhelmed that we can’t take in anything new. …But this moment of challenge is exactly why I wrote it.

It’s called Our Best Work.

It’s about the invisible norms that make work feel crazy — and what happens when you can finally see them. Not fixing individuals. Shifting context. Not alone, but together.

Caring about work right now can feel like setting yourself up for a world of hurt. But deciding NOT to care, wanting numbness… it costs us more. The antidote isn’t more advice — it’s aliveness. And that aliveness? It’s not only possible, but waiting for us. Through what we can create together.

The book is out now wherever books are sold. I recorded it myself, if you’re an Audible person

And thank you. Some of the stories are ones first shared/discussed here on this Substack when was my editor.

We already know how to measure the rate of return on capital. Profits, efficiency, etc.
What we don’t know is how to measure the rate of return on creativity, connection, or contribution — the very things that define human value in the age of AI.

That’s the mission of Intangible Labs (co-founded with Tim Kastelle): to make the intangible drivers of modern work visible and measurable. So we can all be fully alive at work.

The personal isn’t separate from the economic model; it is the innovation model.

We’ve built a 7–10 minute survey to test our 2nd (beta) research prototype — and we’d love (LOVE LOVE) your help to shape this next step. Please take it, and if you have a team, please ask them to take it too.

👉 Take the survey here.

If we fail to understand what truly matters in modern work, we’ll end up designing a future that rewards all the wrong things.

Let’s not do that.

And while we cannot give you back reporting in this phase of the research, we will be able to do so soon, so please help us get through this phase and we’ll be able to hand you something insightful in return. Promise.

Nilofer

I’ve stayed silent here, taking a longer than anticipated break on this Substack. The last I wrote was a year ago. About surviving the wilderness on a day that ended with a Search & Rescue Helicopter ride. And I thought I would write to you again as soon as I resettled. But wildernesses, it turns out, don’t always involve forests. 

For those who want the short story in TLDR fashion, here it is: I’m suspending/freezing subscriptions until…whenever. I’ll leave my Fully Alive @ Work previously Substack columns to read, but I don’t know when (or if) I’ll publish here again.

And for those who want to know more*, I will share what I know now, even though I’m not sure what exactly I “know.” 


INTO THE WILDERNESS
I thought I’d write again after I wrap up the proceedings of dissolving my 20-year-long marriage. In doing so,  the pain of what I was experiencing wouldn’t show up in my work with you all. Like any good content, an experience must be metabolized before it can be useful to others. 

You didn’t need to know that my separation wilderness involved the soon-to-be ex canceling Thanksgiving plans with my son without telling me. Or how I experienced the first Christmas—a time of family that has meant the world to me—without my kids or grandkids. Even though I believe that partners can part ways, but families don’t have to, it turns out that I am alone in that belief—an isolating wilderness. 

After the holidays, I thought I’d write to share when I know what’s next and how we can go there together. Ways we can operationalize Onlyness at work. And why it’s exciting. There were so many twists and turns, but the path forward was clearer… 

But before I could do that, I faced yet another wilderness—a traumatic brain injury. I fell. And blacked out. That was months ago. Now I can walk without using a wall. Though, I still can’t drive. After eight weeks of being unable to do so, I can finally focus my eyes enough to read. And my cognitive function has returned sufficiently, so I now remember what I read a few minutes prior. But the “multi-trajectory” concussion is still very much an issue. What is a thinker who cannot think? A writer who cannot write? An advisor who cannot meet? It’s been and still is a harrowing wilderness. 

AWKWARD SILENCE
So now I’ve come to accept what is. I don’t know when I’ll be writing here again. 

Now, for the awkward part: the paid subscription aspect of Substack. A deep thank you to those who have treated this like a Patreon account and are not worried about the transaction aspect but wanted to support this work of being Fully Alive. For those who resent it, please tell me if you'd like a financial (or emotional?) restitution. 

To collaborate is to co-labor. And, indeed, in this work of being Fully Alive @ work…we did that together. You asked questions that got me thinking and applying the Onlyness construct in ever-fresh ways. We engaged, exploring topics as we joined calls, created communities, and came to meetings in faraway cities to explore what it means to build workplaces where we can do our best work. Together, we leaned towards better questions and sought out collective flourishing. You have energized, stretched, and activated this work. Whether you were a question-asker, reader, sharer, commentator, lurker, long-time tracker of this body of work, or a curious observer, I’m wildly grateful for each of you. Thank you. 

I never imagined a year would pass like this. I never imagined this many wilderness moments. Let alone the back-to-back nature of them. 

THE NEW ALIVENESS
A dear friend recently described this “wilderness” experience to me this way: 

You are in the thick of things right now, she told me. Lost, bewildered, questioning which path is the next right thing—this is the wilderness. And you will emerge from all of this with freedom and fulfillment that one cannot yet see from within this experience. She wants me to hold onto the idea that all “wilderness” experiences hold: Until we have lost our moorings and faced the intense experience, we cannot find the new aliveness that awaits us on the other side.

One day, I hope to know more. To answer, “What the hell was this year about?” And even more practically, “How can we continue what we started—creating workplaces where we can each be fully alive?” But for right now? I know nothing. I’m being present and inching towards what’s next. 

Even though this newsletter is not ongoing, there are still ways we can stay connected. I’m here at the other end of this note. Concussed, yes. But here for you, always. 

*If you signed up during the last year and wondered wtf this note is about, I hope you got it from reference. And one of my favorite pieces about the role of community and someone’s voice is probably a good reference here. This is the sound of my soul.

People hate change, we’re told. And, yet, have you noticed how much people love new shoes, new jobs, and new romance? It’s not “change” that we humans hate; it’s the uncertainty that change brings. 

Uncertainty is why so many companies insist it’s time to “come back” to work; they think it’ll return us to “normal.” Uncertainty is why some stay in sucky situations; They’d rather live with the known awful thing than risk the hurt of trying and not finding something awesome. Uncertainty is also why leaders struggle to create the needed culture change; they can’t figure out how to do the dance of co-creation, so they either lead too little or too much. 

I do a lot of work with leaders to help them navigate change. Strategy, after all, is building the plan to get from “here” to “there.” So in coaching teams or leaders, I help them shift away from “this” and towards “that” to build what’s next.

Then, I had this experience of literally getting lost in the wilderness. It shook me. But as I described the experience to a friend/coach, she said, THIS is what you do, who you are. And she encouraged me to share the experience with you, given how many of us are navigating uncertainty these days. 

SO, SO YOU MADE A LOT OF MISTAKES

I started from camp on the cloud-covered morning around 10 am, expecting to do a six-mile round trip hike to Mitchell Peak. I followed an upward trail to the rocky scramble at the peak to admire the 360-degree vista. I wore shorts and a t-shirt and felt chilly on the mountain despite the noon sun. At 12:30, I started my return. The trail I was following, it turns out, was not a trail but water runoff. (It had rained the two nights prior.) 

Around 1 pm, I knew I was lost. (Not only lost but off trail, in the wilderness.) 

At 2 pm, I realized I was f**ked. 

I had run out of water. I had no compass, no map. I had no food. I had no warmth nor shelter. My inner dialogue about this was loud. I berated myself for walking out of camp without essentials. I judged myself for not fitting into my pre-pandemic hiking clothes, which is why I didn’t have the right gear with me. I thought of why I was alone in the backcountry in the first place, that I was—yet again—divorcing.  

YOU'RE THE NORTH STAR AND THE COMPASS

To find my way out, I had to get fully present. 

The weird part about uncertainty is how much we humans want to control, analyze, or feel wrong about what’s passed, as if that could change any part of the present. When one is ashamed, one is frozen in time. Shame not only freezes us, but it also leaves us unable or reluctant, unwilling to be in the moment. So I spoke aloud to ground myself. To the shame I felt at that moment, I said, I have to let you go. I took breaths to calm my nervous system. If you listen to the noise of the past (or invalidating people), you’re not centered. Just as a physical compass lets you know where you are relative to the Earth’s magnetic poles, grounding oneself —Onlyness— is a compass to orient in life.

Then, I decided which way to head based on what I “knew.”

I figured that my biggest problem was water. I had already run out of the 30 ounces of water I had brought with me hours before. People can live for long periods in exposure, cold, and without food. But dehydration causes a fast set of problems. 

If I went back up the mountain, I would guarantee there would be no water. I studied where the sun was in the sky and the topology to get a sense of where I was. I figured out that, while I ascended the western slope, I was likely now on the eastern side. I thought back to the topo map I had looked at three days prior. I recalled that the ridge I was following would descend—if memory served, which was a big-ass if— towards a lake. I imagined that if I could follow the eastern ridge cross-country, I might find that lake and get to the established trail, which I could then follow to a meadow, where I recalled a cut-through to Marvin Pass and, from there, navigate back to camp.

That became my “strategy.” 

PULL YOU DOWN FASTER THAN A SUNSET

I was relieved when I found the lake and the maintained trail I had “planned” to seek. Well, relieved doesn’t quite capture it. There are no words. 

Yet, I was still miles from where I needed to be.

I hadn’t had water for six hours, which I was feeling. So I searched for a stream, found one, and drank just 20 ounces, hurrying. The coming sunset meant a new danger. 

By the time I reached the meadow I was aiming for—Rowell Meadows—I had gone another four to five miles uphill (the descent on the mountain's eastern slope meant an unrelenting rise). I was hustling and soaked from the effort. 

I was shivering even before the sun moved into the shadows. 

My Apple watch stopped tracking around 12 miles, but by the time I reached Rowell Meadows, I had probably hiked 17 miles with 4,000 feet of altitude gain. With just 70 ounces of water. I was wearing the wrong (wet) clothes and certainly not enough clothes. I was shaking hard, a possible early sign of hypothermia. 

And yet, I was just 2.3 miles from camp. And I wanted—needed—to get there.

AND YOU CAN'T SEE YOUR WAY OUT OF IT

While I “knew” there was a trail junction in Rowell Meadows to Marvin Pass, I couldn’t find it. I searched one direction of the meadow and then the other. 

Frustrated, I considered going off-trail—cross-country between the two mountain peaks where I expected the pass—even though I had spent the better part of the day navigating toward established trails. 

I was just so used to going as the strategy.

People do this in times of uncertainty: barrelling through by doing what they’ve always done instead of reevaluating if the strategy that got them here is the same strategy that will get them where they need to go. 

But it explains why I started to follow a new trail going away from the meadow I had spent the entire day trying to reach. Soon, that trail turned into a narrow path with a steep drop on one side. And that part of me that understands danger turned me around and got me to pause.

I returned to the meadow. And hunkered down for the night.

I shivered, waiting. Waited for what? I have no idea. 

In the same way that our bodies need food and water (knowing that without them, we die), we look for signs of certainty when ambiguity threatens our emotional psyche. But uncertainty is not a threat, as much as it is a discomfort. And discomfort is neither bad nor wrong. It’s not always a sign or a signal to stop. Discomfort is not just a necessary step in change; getting uncomfortable is at the root of all growth. 

Change and comfort don’t coexist, but development and discomfort do. 

IT'S A HELPING HAND WHEN YOU NEED IT MOST

When I first heard the helicopter in the air, I was inclined to ignore it. By this point, I had figured out a plan for what I would do in the morning (circle the full meadow) to find the trail junction towards camp.

But then I thought, wait, what. And I unburied myself from the bed of pine needles I had made and ran into Rowell Meadows on that moonlit night. Thinking, wow, this is a pretty good landing spot. And the helicopter came right to the meadow, right over my head, only to keep flying. (It turns out they weren’t using visual sighting but heat sensors, and my body temperature didn’t register.)

Oh well, I thought. That’s fine. I’ll be fine. I even thought of going back to my bed of pine needles. But then I thought, hey, it’s not like I have anything else to do out here. And so I watched the helicopter while doing jumping jacks to stay warm. It circled Mitchell Peak. Then, broader. And then back to Mitchell Peak. The search pattern was predictable. But, every now and again, it would stop its pattern to hover. At one point, it did so at the edge of the meadow. Right, where I was. Well, not that close; the field was immense. 

But observing it got me thinking. They must be hovering for a reason.

This is how I found some backpackers. It’s what I’ve always loved about backcountry backpacking. The people you meet. They’ll share tips to discover an unmapped lake or, in this case, a puffer, a quilt, a wool hat, food, and their campfire to warm me up. Using their satellite phone, I sent word to a bestie. I had no idea she knew I was lost; that search and rescue had already reached out to her. But we got back a “yes” to my ask that she tell the police team that I was okay.

So it was a surprise that a few hours later, the helicopter returned and gently landed in the meadow. It turns out that when you are "missing," the team doesn’t stop, not even if they put their eyes on you or when you tell them your plan to get back to camp at dawn. I tried to convince them, but Officers Ty and Mike kindly said, “Hey, we don’t want to force you, but we need you to come with us.” 

Hence, the midnight helicopter ride to Fresno. 

IT'LL COME AND MAKE YOU WHOLE AGAIN

Not long after I returned from the backcountry, a new client hired me via my website to help him spot his Onlyness as his birthday present for himself. He asked me a few times how my coaching process worked. I’ve always felt bad that I don’t have a “standard routine approach.” But I realize now this was not a happenstance. How I found my way is how I navigate change work; I coach someone so they have the skills to orient and navigate the world. 

There are obvious lessons from what I’ve shared so far.

• Get present. Notice what is. Not what we want to be or “should be” but reality. 

• Figure out where “there” is for any specific situation. 

• Design a plan to get from here to there.

• Start, but stop as soon as that strategy has played out. Reevaluate.

• When uncertain, face the discomfort. 

But the less obvious one is what I think most matters.

• How do you act (relentlessly) to advocate for your own life? Most of us can’t create the life we want, changing whatever needs to be changed because we don’t know how to center on that one thing we’re responsible for.

The key to handling change isn’t to defy uncertainty but to locate and lean on what helps navigate that change and remain steady in ourselves.

LOVE IS UNSTOPPABLE

When I returned to camp, a fellow camper Kathy said, "You didn't need to be rescued; you rescued yourself."  Another person turned out to have called in a favor to get the choppers in the air and not wait the standard 24 hours to launch a search and rescue. She and I had talked the day before. She wanted me to know it wasn’t because she didn’t have faith in my abilities, but she knew that if I saw the helicopters in the air, I’d know that they knew I was missing. She said she got the chopper in the air “so I wouldn’t feel alone.”

And this is the thing that is so mysterious about how we navigate new terrain.  I started the day thinking I was all alone because of the soon-to-be divorce and ended that 24-hour day surrounded by people who cared. 

Five years ago this month, the Power of Onlyness was published. I wrote in it that when “we pull on that thread that only one sees, we find ourselves connected to the fabric of the world.” I live by it. Literally. 

Dear Guilty, 

So, if you don’t work all out, you’re not doing enough?

<Girl.>

Like Years Later, you’re listening to ideas that don’t serve you. 

As you describe what you’ve done, I can see your creativity in envisioning the team design. I can see your charisma to enroll people and set the organization up for success by hiring well. And I know it takes something special to align people to work, so they become more than the sum of their parts. You’ve done what every great leader aims: enabling a high-performance culture. 

Yet, you ask if you should do more and work harder. As if what you’ve done already is not enough, and ease isn’t permissible. 

That voice you’re listening to? It’s asking, are you giving it your absolute all? 

I GO OUT OF MY HEAD
” Giving your all,” some would say, is not just a good thing; it is the only thing — it’s the only way to live a full life. It’s you showing up in the arena of your life. On the other hand, how many of us “give it all” to people and places as we deny (or are denied) our own needs?

The difference? It lies in how we define all. Are you giving all of yourself, what only you have to give? Or do we define “all” as nearly 24x7?

ALL THE THINGS YOU DO TO ME
You might already know that my husband and I started a trial separation in January? And it might be too soon, and I might be too raw to write about it. But because it’s relevant to this topic, I’ll share that last week, and we made it official. We’re no longer working on reconciliation; we’re working on parting-in-grace.  

Like you, I feel guilty that I did not do more, despite ten years of therapy and resourcing. To this day, I still picture us having a recommitment service on our 20th wedding anniversary this fall. This, even though he has told me repeatedly that what I’m asking for is “too much,” that I am “too needy,” and that what I want is asking for a “personality transplant.” But since I was the person who had grown and healed and therefore changed what I wanted from us, I felt like I should do more or try harder or … something. 

However wrong an idea it is, I felt I should “fix it” since my growth had “broken it.” 

Like you, I questioned myself a lot. A lot, lot.

Maybe I should accept that my life partner’s face doesn’t light up when he sees me and just get that need met elsewhere? Maybe I should stop caring that his first response to everything I say is to negate or refute my perspective; if I believe in something, I should be willing to argue for it, right? Maybe it’s okay to keep getting hurt since I was getting stronger every time I had to get back off the ground?

So, I kept trying to “give it my all”? 

But do you know what I didn’t ask?

If, in this relationship, my Onlyness was valued.

I had grown so proficient at coping and centering the tree of “us” that I wasn’t paying attention to my fruition. Or lack of fruition in this case. Even though I “know” that for any relationship to work, it has to honor one’s Onlyness, I struggled to center it correctly. 

And that’s why I share this tender news with you.

I get what you’re asking.

Though you didn’t say it that way, you’re asking….Is it okay to choose yourself?

And so let me answer emphatically that yes, you must. You don’t want to be doing the most work you can; you want to be being you the most. Giving it your all is good when it is for your purpose when it taps Onlyness. Leadership involves caring for others, but it can never mean abdicating oneself. Yes, we show up to do our best. But that doesn’t—cannot—mean we drain or deplete the very source of that best work. 

Do what only you are here to do, and enable others to do the same.

AND I JUST CAN’T GET ENOUGH

This is counter to what we’re taught. We’re taught to hustle, to prove, and all that.

Business “leaders” talk about giving as a universal good. Certain people talk about “give and take” without addressing the fact that there are some who are expected to give until it hurts, while some are allowed to take without question. 

How many of us have worked in institutions, loyally, only to find ourselves “outsourced,” “reorg’d,” or “streamlined.”? Where we learned that, despite giving it “our all,” we were as easily replaceable as a cog. Or working harder than anyone only to see the boss’s boss get the meatiest part of the reward while we got the chance to “prove ourselves.” As the ever-brilliant sociologist Tressie McMillan Cottom says, the institution cannot love you. The same can be said about marriage. It’s not the institution that guarantees love or being loved; marriages work when it is a vehicle for each person to keep becoming the person they are meant to be. 

And the spin, the spin around this, can take us down.

About valuing hard work, which translates to being over-worked. Maybe even you are thinking of counter-examples. How some places totally take care of their people, and those places deserve our all. You might point to benefits like free dinners. I’ll just remind you that the work cultures that serve hot dinners at 6 pm don’t do it out of the goodness of their heart, lovebugs. They do it because it benefits them. Ten bucks for dinner in exchange for one to two more hours of labor meant they got that last whatever energy you had in your tank before you left the building. In turn, family or friends got the limpest and wilted version of you. Withered (albeit fed) people happen by neglecting oneself, the hobbies, sunshine, and rest one needs. 

JUST LIKE A RAINBOW
Now, I want to plant an idea to displace yours, Guilty. 

Instead of thinking, should I be working harder or doing more or something… 

I want you to ask: Are you creating the spaciousness for your Onlyness to shine? 

I ask because you need at least 5% reserve capacity to have enough room for that next big idea. Andre Delbecq, my former Management Sciences professor at Santa Clara University, taught me that. (I highlight “at least” because it can also mean you reserve—I know it’ll sound crazy to you, but still—40% of your capacity to create, it’s okay!)

I think of this often because research will be published every few years about how leaders spend their time. And it’ll be something like senior managers spend less than 3% of their time on the long-term view of the future. And we’ll do the math and see how that amounts to about two hours of a 60-hour week. And if we look around, we’ll see that’s being generous because that time is counted as a meeting. It’s not the time that allows for ideas to come from a good run or after a restful weekend.

As we’re all “giving it our all,” we’re becoming myopic.

One obvious result: we don’t understand our market needs or what’s blocking progress. We don’t give ourselves the space to be creative. Or energized. Or alive at work. But if we can create spaciousness, we’ll be more present, listen to what is needed, and see what the situation calls for—not going from thing to thing, exhausted, limping as you try to run faster—but calmly centered in Onlyness. 

Consider that new question, will you?

YOU KNOW YOU SET ME FREE
A friend was recently submitting input for his annual performance review. And one question the review process asked was, “How have you gone above and beyond?” This friend thought, “Listen, I’m paid this combination of wages, salaries, bonuses, benefits, and perks, in exchange for how I do my job and do it well.” The question assumed that he should be doing more and working harder.

“Why are you asking this question?” he asked.

Why exactly? 

Our “in practice” column is a way for us to act on our Onlyness. After all, we can’t just think our way to a new approach; we must put our ideas into action. This is why these are some of my favorite columns here at Fully Alive@Work.

And so, I wanted to share a successful practice from my coaching work. 

You read about it last week in the piece entitled What Are You Listening To. I talked about how I have built an inner circle of people who have my back. 

But I hadn’t named what to do as explicitly as I want to do for you now. 

It’s the noticing game. 

Noticing. To be aware of. To take note. From the original Latin, notitia ‘being known,’

And here’s how you do it. 

AND AS EACH MOMENT HAS UNFURLED
Step back from any exchange's specific context to notice the person's approach.  

When I do this work with clients, I ask them to email me after conversing with their boss. 

And here’s what I ask them to capture. 

• Specifically, what did they say or do? 

  • Did they acknowledge or validate your needs/wants or brush you aside? 

  • Did they jump straight to problem-solving instead of asking you what you’ve already considered? 

  • Did they talk in generalities or address your specific question? 

• Then, what does their approach tell you about them? 

  • If they brushed aside a significant concern, are they even seeing you? 

  • If they jump straight to “solving the problem,” are they trying to be ‘right’? 

  • If they talk about something different than what you raised, are they even interested in helping you? 

• What data do you now have? 

  • What do you want to learn from this exchange? 

  • What would you want to notice next time (is this a pattern or a one-time thing)

  • What do you need from people around you for your Onlyness to shine? 

TO SEE THE EVIL AND THE GOOD WITHOUT HIDING
Most of my clients struggle with it as “straight-forward” as this exercise sounds. 

For one thing, most folks listen for the content of the conversation rather than the approach. They are too focused on getting a raise or a new job, or increased scope of responsibilities. They are listening for whether their piece on the board is blocked or moving forward. This focus on content vs. approach means they are not seeing the people playing on their side. Not noticing means you’re playing solo, making each move independent and limiting your impact. 

It’s also hard because we think if someone solves our problem, they are being helpful and supportive. But I ask people to reevaluate that. If someone is interested in solving the problem for you, they could just as easily be saying they don’t believe in your ability to solve the problem or that you’re not as important to them as to whether or how the problem is solved. Either way, you’re negated or deemed less necessary, the opposite of Onlyness. 

And then there’s the implication of all this noticing. If someone routinely does unacceptable shit, and you now notice, you’ll need to do something at some point. And sometimes, we’re just not ready to make that call. So we’d instead not notice that our supposed partners at work or in life are not standing by us and with us. But if we can relax enough to see data for data’s sake, we can be clear about what we want and need from the people around us. We can make that list and then discuss it with them. And in doing so, we might be surprised at people stepping up. But we can’t get to that stage if we’re unwilling to look at the data. 

TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE
There’s a meme around this. It’s a dad who gifts his daughter a car. He asks her to take it to a dealership, pawnshop, and then a car club. The meme’s point is the right place values you the right way. And he teaches this by asking her to notice.

So let’s do this noticing work?

And it doesn’t have to be your situation. You could observe how a colleague or boss, or partner interacts with people. Notice what they say/do and what data it provides you—sharing your noticing here? 

I control you.
I decide if you get to step outside of your narrowly defined job role.
L&D adds little value to me, but if it keeps you happy, go ahead and play.
Know I can f@@k your worldview up at will.

This is just one example of messages I’ve had shape me, and it’s only years later that I see how much it caused me to move in one direction, to accommodate his point of view over my own. It shows the tremendous power of words. 

Dear Years Later, 

Not everyone’s words deserve to be valued. Not if they don’t value you. 

And as easy as that sounds, or how easily one can write it, it’s hard to process at the moment. 

I learned this lesson when I was talking to a famous author who had offered to help me title what would be my second book, the one Harvard published. 

In response to my question about the best book title, this is what he said (and notice how it has nothing at all to do with the question). He answered, “As a brown woman, your chances of being seen and heard in the world are next to NOTHING. For your ideas to be seen, they need to be edgier.” He paused as if to resolve this tension as he stared over and perhaps through stained glass windows in the church where we were sitting. Instead, he affirmed why it was futile. “But if you are edgy, you will be too scary to be heard.” 

It was a sleight of hand far too many people experience. 

He flattened the many reasons that I had a distinct point of view into a two-dimensional rationale for why I was predestined to fail. My point of view, formed by working my way up from the bottom vs. getting an Ivy League education, for example, was eliminated, and I was reduced to my skin color and gender. 

By uttering a few words, he performed a disappearing trick—poof, my value vanished while his value remained high because he was the “good guy” who offered help. 

He had the nicest of tones. And I let that tone fool me. But those kind words and tone were for him, not for me. He used polished and polite language, even as he was limiting me so he could have the moral identity of “I’m a good person, damnit” regardless of his harmful words. 

As you said, it’s words that have power.


TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW A GOOD THING GOES BAD

When someone’s words tell you that your voice and new ideas don’t belong, they should automatically lose the right to be heard. Because when people do this, they advocate for the status quo and not you. They are blocking the door to newness. 

So the question is how to decide what words we listen to.

NOW I’M WONDERING

Years Later, you were able to unpack the messages to understand how they devalued you, but it took time. 

Why is that? 

When I got advice that my ideas would never be heard? I walked straight from Mr. Author-Guru-Dude into a group of friends. They all said nothing to question or challenge his ideas. My husband, equally, couldn’t or wouldn’t counter the argument when I talked to him. A week later, I shared it with a friend that Guru-Dude and I had in common. She spent time telling me why he said what he said, justifying him while advising me to “move past it.” 

But as you said, words have power. 

I shared the story with the Harvard book team. And the editor there latched onto the “you’ll never be seen if you’re too edgy” words. Even though I had come up with a sizzling title by then, it got dismissed. Why? Because the Editor dude agreed with the Guru Dude. So Harvard-Editor-Guy insisted that I needed a book title that was an “easy-to-understand” one. This logic was keeping me relatively unknown by packaging my future-forward ideas badly. 

It took another year (!) before someone overheard me tell Guru Dude’s story that my “ideas would never be heard.” I was sharing how I should stop trying on my behalf and focus on the next generation. And this person interrupted me mid-sentence to say, um, NOOOOOO. 

“What he told you? That is BULLSHIT,” she thundered so that everyone around us suddenly stopped talking. 

I was alone until I had her advocacy. 

I wonder if that’s the same for you. Did it take years because you did it alone? I say that even if you talked it through with someone. Because when you’re talking with someone who can’t or won’t advocate for you and with you, you might as well be alone. 

And that’s the lesson for all of us being told bullshit: FIND YOUR PEOPLE. 

SOMETHING TO GET YOU THROUGH?
Find those who can help you see your value. 

Without a social construct of belonging, your voice is so tiny or isolated that it can never enable your full value, Onlyness. 

It’s taken me many years to know who those people are for me and what to look for. 

And so, let me share my five criteria in case it helps you? 

• The ones who can see and center someone in their own story. 

If I called them today with a story of what just happened, these people would hear Old Guru Guy or Your Old Boss and call bullshit on whatever they said.  I found them by sharing stories over time and seeing who stood up for me and with me. I excluded the people who would take the “devil’s advocate” role to justify or explore why the asshat said what he said. (The devil, by the by, doesn’t need an advocate, you do). 

• The ones that celebrate everything, not just the perfect parts. 

These are the people who hear the stories of what has shaped my life and love me not despite those stories but because of those stories. I found them by sharing my wounds and vulnerabilities and seeing who treated those tenderly. I excluded the people who, when they hear about my injuries, pity me or want me to be “fixed”. My people are proud of me; they can see who I am and what has formed me. 

• The ones who inspire. 

Because those who surround us affect us. Many people are inspirational, but the ones who can inspire me are those who are willing to share how they are thinking, even when it isn’t going well. I exclude people who tell me a different story the next time we talked about it as if spinning tales, facade mean they’re not letting me see them. Which is the opposte of inspiring, which in the original latin is to ‘impart a truth or idea to someone’. Having them in my inner circle illuminates more possibilities for my own life and work. 

• The ones that hold you accountable. 

I found those who critique constructively. The ones who don’t tell me “the” answer but can help me see where I’m stuck so I can find “my” answer. I exclude people who want to be right or “know”; People who have a strong desire to be correct aren’t creating accountability; they're creating inequality or shame. Now I have people who ask me hard questions but always believe in my ability to ultimately figure out the answers, and by helping me see my own question more clearly. 

• Those who can co-build the relationship.

I choose parties who are emotionally mature and willing to address things when they come up. This lets us be close. I have three rules for if someone is a good at co-building our relationship: 1) can they name it (x is a problem), 2) can they claim it (here’s why it bothers me), and 3) can they connect you to the solution (here’s what I need from you). I reject the people who can’t hold these conversations because either it means problems don’t get addressed or it means any problems that arise become all mine to solve, which isn’t a way to relate as equals, it’s a dependency.

IS IT A LOVE SONG?

Yes, Words have power. The key is how do you decide what words have value? Just because someone should have your interests at heart doesn’t mean they do. (Or ever will.) We should value those who value us. 

It’s James Baldwin’s quote, “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” So we can be free.

This matters deeply. We do a BIG thing by building our inner circle. It’s how we dismantle the structures and people who only value certain voices and ideas. It lets us deny their space in our heads. It stops giving them the power to tell us who we are. And it provides us with the strength to not shape-shift, to not accommodate their point of view over our own. Which is how we reclaim ourselves, our Onlyness.

And only as we do that can we shape and build what comes next. 

After Clarity Seeker wrote his question and we explored “the land of confusion,” I reached out to Tim Kastelle to ask him to teach us how to get thru confusion.

The reason I asked him? It’s what he’s recently taught me.

(For those of you that don’t already know of Tim, he’s an innovation professor at the University of Queensland. Not just any professor, mind you. He’s their poster child. And in 2021, he won the award that his peers gave for singling out excellence in teaching. We started as research colleagues and are now, luckily, friends.)

And here’s what he wrote:

The most common source of confusion around strategy is an unwillingness to make trade-offs, which is its heart – making choices and being clear about things you won’t do. If you can’t identify and resolve the conflicts inherent to your choice, you don’t have a strategy; you have hope.

One tool I’ve used to help reduce confusion is called “even/over” statements. This is a great way to frame trade-offs between two desirable objectives. An even/over structure looks like this:

*one good thing* even/over *another good thing*

(not as some like to do *my good idea* even/over *their shitty idea*)

Here’s an example from my work at the University of Queensland Business School. Much of higher education is experiencing confusion around what to do with micro-credentials, particularly online ones. Many people take online courses that include a micro-credential once they’ve completed it (this is one I made: https://www.edx.org/course/design-thinking-and-creativity-for-innovation ).

A university can have a few different goals when making a short course that includes a micro-credential. One common one is: that we want to use micro-credentials to give students an easy path to our complete degree programs. This takes advantage of our key value propositions: we offer credentials that employers and others recognize. If you build a micro-credential that articulates into a degree program, it needs to meet several criteria. There needs to be rigorous assessment so that the learner’s work in the micro-credential can be credited into the bigger program, and the pricing often needs to be consistent with the price of the whole program. We measure success here by how many students take the micro-credential to go on to enroll in a degree program.

But this strategy isn’t the only way you can succeed with a micro-credential program.

While UQ is an elite university, we don’t have much brand recognition outside of the Asia-Pacific region. So, another way we can use micro-credentials is to make trendy ones so that many people who haven’t heard of us before learn about what we’re doing. The criteria for this kind of micro-credential are different: they need to be accessible, they need to be pretty inexpensive, and the assessment can’t be so challenging that it becomes an obstacle. We can measure success here by how many people enroll, how many put their completion certificate in their LinkedIn profile, etc.

These objectives, leading to degrees or increased brand recognition, are highly desirable. But you can’t build one micro-credential that does both. You have to choose between:

Articulation (high quality) even/over brand recognition (high volume) or

Brand recognition even/over articulation.

Once you make this choice, cascading design and operational decisions follow to meet one objective over the other.

This is how confusion, or working at cross-purposes, etc., gets reduced.

The problem for many universities right now (including my own) is not seeing this issue – one bunch of people building micro-credentials thinks their target is brand recognition. In contrast, another thinks they’re recruiting articulation students. Because they’re not naming the invisible thing, they can’t solve or resolve the conflict between the two. As a result, they fight, often building something “in the middle.”

And the problem with this is probably obvious. But it’s worth spelling out. It creates something that no one wants.  The educational institution neither builds a brand nor attracts new students.

Even though many good people tried to do “the right thing,” they effectively worked at cross-purposes because they couldn’t name the issue at hand.

Nilofer and I have run into another example on a project we’re working on that you’ll hear a lot about very soon. Many people in the business world advocate creating organizational cultures where “people matter.” This is a very admirable goal. Of course, people matter.

You can say “people matter,” while the only leadership style you value is a combative one.

You can say “people matter” while only listening to those with a certain profile.

You can say “people matter” while asking people to speak up, and not fixing why they’re not heard.

You get the point.

You can believe “people matter,” and your organization can still perpetuate harm against the vast majority of your people. It can still lack psychological safety, so people can’t bring their whole selves to work. It can still value the comfort and success of particular groups of people over that of others.

What if, instead, we build organizations where each of us is valued? That’s different. We must develop equality, psychological safety, and equity when we value each person. You design for Onlyness.

So: “Value Each Person” even/over “people matter.”

That’s the case for even/over statements. They’re a great way to increase your strategy's clarity and reduce confusion. If you have a clear set of them, it can guide in-the-moment decisions for your front-line people. If you want more detail on this idea, all of the organizations that spun out from Undercurrent do this well:

NOBL: https://academy.nobl.io/how-to-write-a-strategy-your-team-will-remember/

TheReady: https://medium.com/the-ready/even-overs-the-prioritization-tool-that-brings-your-strategy-to-life-e4f28f2949ac

Parabol: https://www.parabol.co/blog/strategic-prioritization-even-over-statements/

But the environment is confusing and chaotic. 

Execution doesn't match the vision; the executive ranks have shifted more than six times in three months. The different teams are working in different directions. This is not conflict - we are not working at cross-purposes. This is either a lack of leadership or a lack of communication of leadership, or—most likely—a lack of clarity. 

My biggest challenge is sorting out how to bring my unique set of insights and abilities— my Onlyness—to this team to help create clarity and direction and keep the proverbial ship on course. How can I learn to bring my Onlyness to the efforts to influence decisions and practices as they are getting clarified?

Dear Clarity Seeker, 

While there are many ways to create value, there are just a few ways to destroy it. 

Confusion surely tops the shortlist of destructive ways.  

I once joined a promising team, and the Head of Finance Howard, was my co-conspirator. From day one of working together, we respected each other and got each other. Laughed, even. 

But within weeks, we weren’t connecting. 

Was it me? Was I not communicating well, or did I do something wrong, like overstepping my scope? Was it him? He kept taking longer and longer to respond to my requests, even though his office was next door. 

This ickiness spread, infecting the extended team. People started checking with him and with me, but separately. Most wrote emails to document critical decisions for fear something would bite them in the butt. And many looped the bosses into CYA conversations, creating more and often unnecessary work for everyone. 

The confusion seems interpersonal, inconsequential at first. But it takes down teams.   

CAN'T YOU SEE THIS IS A LAND OF CONFUSION?
It’s a lack of understanding, yes. Uncertainty, surely. But confusion cuts deeper than that. Confusion blunts one’s sense of purpose and spins one around enough that they don’t know what they should do next. 

This is why the confusion in the firm is not unrelated to the firm's prospects. It’s a sign and signal that the needed conversations and debates—the things that create a shared understanding among people to create an executable strategy—are missing. I’ve previously described this as an organizational “Air Sandwich,” like a PB&J sandwich without any of the PB&J. 

Blech. 

One does not have a great strategy if one also has confusion. One cannot execute well when there is confusion. One does not have great teamwork if there is confusion. If you have this disorder, you have a dysfunction.

MAKING TOO MANY PROBLEMS
So, I’m sorry to break this news to you since you asked the question the way you did. But there is a conflict. It’s just invisible right now. 

The dynamic between Howard and me? It turned out that we were being told slightly different stories about priorities. And each of us wanted to do our best, so we adjusted our approaches accordingly. We didn’t check with each other because we assumed our bosses were aligned. But they weren’t. The CFO had been cynical about a recent company acquisition, and because he didn’t feel heard or valued in that process, he was now asking hard questions about whether the right things were in place. He was adding pressure to “prove his point.” The Head of Product was now in charge of the new big thing, so he felt frustrated that not enough was being done to make that work successful. His career was on the line, too. 

But our team couldn’t see all that. 

It looked like so-and-so wasn’t being supportive. Or that we were not doing enough. 

None of us asked, “what is that’s dividing us, and how do we solve it?” 

And I readily admit that I would have been uncomfortable asking this question way back. 

Like nearly every one of you who writes to me, I had an internalized sense that leaders should know where they’re going and be mature enough to talk with each other. I also questioned if I knew “enough” to ask a valid question. I wasn’t raised to believe in my voice.  Combine these beliefs—and we know what kept me from asking relevant questions. 

These beliefs are more common than we’d like to admit. The preponderance of these beliefs means that the “call is coming from inside the house.” The same beliefs that keep us from upsetting the apple cart are the same beliefs that keep us from adding value that only one can. 

If no one asks, what is putting us at cross purposes? Nothing has a chance to be solved. 

You see this everywhere. 

The person who reports to one person, but has a dotted-line relationship with another, is often told they need to be a “better communicator.” But the issue is rarely words. When executives aren’t aligned on priorities, a junior person is put in the middle.

Or how we ask middle managers to “just navigate the ambiguity” vs. fixing the darn ambiguity. 

Or when we are asked to do work against two competing goals when there’s only enough energy and resources to do one thing well. Instead of deciding which one, teams are asked to “figure it out.”

These “solutions” make people the Band-Aids instead of stitching the open wound of an organizational conflict. It’s how we fail: depleting energy and slowing the business.

THESE ARE THE NAMES WE'RE GIVEN 

Innovative, alive work is about how a group gathers together to turn nascent ideas into new realities. The keyword in the last sentence is how. 

But most of us are operating in a different how. One so well known I’d bet that if I write just one word of the three, you’ll be able to fill in the entire phrase. 

Ready. ___. ____. 

This beloved sequence of operations is often used to lead a team towards hitting an objective. 

The logic of the adage is linear. That one thing follows the other. First, you prepare, then decide, and finally, execute what has been resolved. The “ready-aim-fire” logic is a tried-and-true operational maxim that many people still value. It gives people a (false) sense of predictability.  

But I’d like for you to reevaluate it for two reasons:

First, if you accept this premise, it’s easy to think of your job as one of the three. We’re either the planners and resource folks (readiness), the strategizers (aim), or execution folks (fire). So let’s say you show up at a firm where the strategy is already “decided”; you can think your job is to execute what others have determined, even if you think it’s off by some measure. Which, by definition, denies Onlyness where each has a perspective to offer, regardless of role.  

The second reason is more abstract but relevant. Just ask yourself: Is anything this linear? How exactly does one prepare for something before you decide what it is? What if one finds new information while executing? Wouldn’t you need to reevaluate the decision? It sounds so appealing to think of work as predictable, but nothing I’ve ever experienced works this way in real life. Have you? 

In the Social Era, we create (or rather, co-create) value via relationships. Modern work is interrelated, instead of isolated handoffs that the “ready-aim-fire” construct suggests. How we ask what the issues are, how we stay curious, and how we learn together. Business results, including revenue, are not tied to isolated or individual efforts but to how connected we are. 

Not naming the conflict for what it is ….denies you all a way to connect and solve it.

THE SOUND OF YOUR LAUGHTER AS I HELD YOU TIGHT
If the company keeps overturning its leadership team, it’s a sign that they think new players will fix a broken strategy. So, as the newbie, you can be the one to ask that. “Sometimes, people hire new teams because they think the issue has been execution. Before we become the (next) team that must be replaced, let’s take the ten days to ensure we’re aligned on the strategy.”

Or, if the execution doesn’t match the vision, someone is signaling that it’s okay to change the playbook. So you’ve gotta learn to ask questions that get at that. Ask, “Hey, this is hard for me to ask because it seems like I’m challenging someone. But I see that execution doesn’t match the vision, and I worry that we’ll never get on the same page if I don't ask.”

And even more specifically, to get the team to address what they want MORE THAN other things. This is the conflict that Howard and I faced but never named. And based on my 20 years of experience since then, it’s nearly always the issue. We want different things simultaneously but don’t want to name the inherent conflicts. We don’t want to disagree, which leaves us in a check-mate situation. Unable to move forward, unable to win. Confused.

To be clear, you’re not raising conflict to create discomfort—yours or theirs. 

The reality is if we don’t ask and author those meaningful questions, the company won’t have a chance. You’re raising the issues because you want the very thing it wants for itself: success. 

As Phillip Roth once put it, “Life is, and.” He meant that we don’t live in a linear world. We live with many things at once. Everything is connected to everything. And that’s your work, too. Connect your voice to the thing causing everyone to suffer. Connect with your peers to name what drives a wedge between all of you and winning. Connect them to the work you all need to do, together.  

I am rooting for you as much as this drummer is pounding away. 

A: Dear Identity, 

Can you say you’re doing strategic value-creating work if no one notices? 

It’s a question I’ve long struggled with. So much so that I wanted to pass along a vignette a coach shared when I was grappling. 

Some monks, she told me, lived in a hermitage and wove baskets every day as they prayed. Once a year, they descend into the village to sell their hand-woven baskets, using what they earn to resupply and return to their monastic life. One monk was sick and couldn’t join to sell the baskets he had made. As a result, he couldn’t get new supplies to make more baskets. Instead, he took apart the baskets he had already made so he’d have the needed materials to weave and pray. 

When I first heard this story, my skin started to crawl. Is all the work just undone? Nothing to show for the whole year he spent creating? No one would see the fruits of his labor? I felt like I was going to break out in hives. 

Your question reminded me of the story. If no one sees, does it even matter?

And there’s a good reason why this happens. Creating outcomes is far more easily measured than how we’re fully alive.  

Shoulda' Learned To Play The Guitar
It’s why we can look at a new job opportunity to work at a more prestigious institution (measurable) and take a while to ask if our Onlyness can shine there (immeasurable).

It’s why we can get drawn to a “big job” opportunity and its total comp package (measurable) and not notice how the situation ensures we never do our best work (incalculable).

Or why, Identity, we value feedback (validation), instead of our good work (invaluable). 

Outcomes are just clearer. And “the way” is intangible, immeasurable, and mostly invisible. And oddly enough, if you’re manifesting yourself using what comes naturally, it can even look like you’re earning “money for nothing,” as the song lyrics suggest. 

But just because we can measure something doesn’t mean it’s the right measure.  

You Play The Guitar On The Mtv
I read a piece a few years ago that addressed what to do when you don’t feel valued. The author wrote: 

“We all have a human need to be appreciated for our efforts, and so when your colleagues don’t notice [your contributions], it makes you feel as though you don’t belong.” You might also start to worry—justifiably—about your potential professional advancement. “Self-doubt starts to creep in, and you think, ‘If no one notices what I’m doing, how am I going to get ahead?’”

Why does getting noticed matter? So that you can get ahead. Ahead of whom? Ahead how? None of this is explained. It’s just assumed that getting ahead is what matters. This is what we’ve been taught and conditioned to believe is most important. Get ahead at all costs. But this keeps us focused on the next job level or the pay bump, but not on whether we get to be fully alive. 

I hate how this redirects our energy. The bragging. The jockeying for position. People start to brand themselves “Strategic Value Creator.” But if you're creating a persona, it’s also a pedestal someone can knock you off. 

If you reframe adding value as a way of being, it’s something you do. You embody it. No one can take that away from you. Actions are never false. What is, is.

It’s near heresy to say it, but there is no competition. There is only contribution. It’s about you adding the value that only you can. Onlyness. 

That Ain't Workin', That's The Way You Do It
So, Identity, what is your identity? Is your work to “make and sell baskets,” or is creating the basket “the way” you do the thing you are called to do.

You say you love adding strategic value. That should mean that it was enough to know what you know, that you added 20% to the topline. But when you and your team didn’t get feedback for it, you started doing lower-value-add work. I suspect you wanted to see a point (any point!) on the board. 

It’s a pain we can all feel. 

It’s why my friend told me the monk story in the first place. I had become so obsessed with whether I scored the point that I wasn’t playing the game I needed to play. 

When we lose sight of the way, we also lose our way. 

Look At That, Look At That
Maybe your boss and bosses’ boss stopped doing regular check-ins after your onboarding process had gone well. They could see you got it. Perhaps it’s time for you to believe in yourself as much as they do. 

Editor’s Pick: “Everything is Everything” by Lauryn Hill 
Unabashedly herself, Hill challenged norms, combining styles of music, singing, rapping, and breaking barriers for female rappers. She added value in her unique way and is still considered one of the greatest rappers. “Everything is everything” means it is what it is. It reminds her of Onlyness, which is something that just IS.

oh, and p.s reminder that you’re always invited to join our Fully Alive@Work Column Club, where we discuss our takeaways from the most recent columns and how to embody these ideas in our daily work.  If you'd like to join us for our next one? It’s at 9 am PT/5 pm GMT on Wednesday, April 20th. Garry Turner and I will be co-hosting and would LOVE to have you.  Email back if you want to join, and one of us will make sure you get the link.

A poem by Alice Walker

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A: What’s the pithy phrase? We teach best what we most need to learn? 

Your question, Greater Than, comes when I am actively working to change this very cycle. 

But before I share that story, let me acknowledge the challenge. 

Most of us have been told and taught that our needs are not valid. 

It’s how our parents told us that what we wanted to do didn’t matter enough and that we should get a “safe” degree. Parental desires trumped our own. The teachers who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach us what we were curious about but instead taught what was needed to pass a particular standardized test. The test is prioritized vs. personal development. It’s the way our bosses will say, “there is no budget” when we ask for a  well-deserved raise; We might have done everything the business asked of us, but other things mattered more than our needs being met.

There is always someone saying their needs matter > our own, in stereo. 

DON’T GO FOR SECOND BEST
When we accept the idea of someone’s needs as “greater” than someone else’s, we have bought into and reinforced the illusion of human hierarchy. Because if we buy the idea that someone’s needs are higher than, better than, greater than, we’ve also accepted that someone else is worse than, lesser than, or lower than. 

Yet,  any construct that makes someone “small” and others “on top” limits Onlyness.

When you stand in the spot where only one stands, you realize that you can’t live into your fullness, your Onlyness, and disregard your own needs at the same time. 

PUT YOUR LOVE TO THE TEST
Today, I can see how my research and study of Onlyness since I first coined the term in 2012 has led me to where I am today. 

Just as the calendar year flipped into 2022, my hubster and I said to one another words that had been years in the making: “let’s start a trial separation.” 

And ever since, I’ve been asking how something that started so good changed.

And I think it comes down to this: It didn’t change, I did. 

I used to think that love was about me taking care of someone, and they, in turn, would take care of me. That was how I understood mutuality back when. 

And that’s why, during a recent joint counseling session, we learned how I know his entire life story minus one detail he had never shared before. I know, too, his related coping tools and how they affect our relationship dynamic. After we were done with our session, he remarked on my degree of observation. He said it was amazing to see how much his interior life I knew, yet he barely knew mine. 

I had, by my actions, taught him that his interior life was more important than mine. 

We both cared about his interior life. So, two votes. 

But who was advocating for my life to be understood? Not me, not him. No votes. 

And gosh darn it if now, many years later, I find myself in second place and wondering how I got here. I had not picked myself. I was hoping to be picked. 

My earlier understanding of mutuality was flawed: it doesn’t come through what I do for you or you for me, but what we can do with one another.  

With one another. I can see now how we could have voted for ourselves and each other—growing what we can do because we’re doing it together.

Four votes. 

(And if this is too personal and not enough about work stuff, that last hyperlink is to a previous column where we cover this exact topic. In it, we pierce the veil of servant leadership to see how it fails us.)

YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW YOU’VE GOT TO
So how do you change that, you ask? 

You simply do. 

Change is not actually simple. But it is about the doing. 

That which animates each of us, our Onlyness, is to be honored. That is your job, a job that can never be delegated and never outsourced. Therefore, it’s your job to advocate for your needs, see yourself, and name what you want in the world. Because this is how you manifest your Onlyness into the world. Again, you cannot ask someone else to do that. Well, you can, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t happen. It’s not their job. It’s yours. (which is not to say you do it alone).

And the old me trying to get him to take care of me by caring for him? That’s not right, it’s co-dependency or well, something, but it’s not honoring my Onlyness. Nor was it honoring his Onlyness, so he chooses if he cares about my interior life. 

TO LIFT YOU TO YOUR HIGHER GROUND
There’s a great book title that captures how hard this is:

The Truth Will Set You Free, But First It Will Piss You Off!

And that’s kinda how I feel about the Onlyness journey some days. When I see how I have been complicit in believing in anything other than the fullness, wholeness of Onlyness. Our value is not earned; it just is. It is never in comparison to another, it is always true. But it does require us to occupy our own space.

Today, I wouldn’t ask someone to love me by taking care of me. I’d want emotional support as I care for myself. As Liz Plank and her crew call it, that would get me off the patriarchal ladder and grounded. 

How about you? Ready for that? 

***

And our Editor is sharing You & I by Local Natives. This pensive-sounding song is about a relationship ending because one person has grown, and the other has not. “In all this light, all I feel is dark.” (Onlyness is accepting both your light darkness.)

- Melissa

That Yeesh.

It makes me think of the stories* women share. How they didn’t manage to say to the very drunk and obnoxious man who is loudly insisting on her doing whatever he wants, “you have to stop.”

And then I remember. Silence is a form of self-protection.

It’s not that we don’t know how to “speak up.” We’re simply doing the active but invisible mental calculus to assess the situation.

And so I wonder, Melissa if we can forgive ourselves and the self-judgment that comes from quietly absorbing the experience to spot how the situation itself is untenable.

I NEVER FIND A PLACE TO STOP
Take, for example, the constant email and Slack channel alerts that are oh-so-subtle invitations to work 24-7, including evenings and weekends? 

What’s a responsible professional person to do? Do we self-advocate by saying this is exhausting and has been for a long time and something has to change? Or is it just easier to be “nice” and work most Sundays, so we’re not overwhelmed on Mondays? 

That’s a big bind. But it’s not a simple issue of boundaries, but a sign of work culture. 

The culture asks us to accept the norm of working every weekend, so we don’t risk our jobs. (Or, a more likely scenario, risk that the boss or our teammates thinking we’re not committed to our careers, or equally hardworking as them, or whatever). 

We manage the bind by doing what we could call a “survival dance.” We know all the moves: deference, silence, apologizing even though we have nothing to be sorry for. We know those moves without having to think about them.

We just groove. 

In doing the survival dance, we don’t even notice how it keeps us from doing our “fully alive dance,” so we can add the value of our onlyness at work. 

BUT I NEVER WANTED ALL THESE THINGS
Is it even solvable to break these binds? 

For that, I think of Mary Parker Follett (again). 

She would have had us ask, “Now, what is our problem here?” Which is the start of Follett’s Law of the Situation. She says we often think of tensions at work as extremes. (or, as I describe, binds). 

The boss needs to give orders, but most employees don’t like receiving orders.  

Follett says the solution is to depersonalize the giving of orders, unite all concerned in a study of the situation, discover the law of the situation, and obey that. 

Her example is that the head of sales does not give orders to the head of the production, or vice versa. Each studies the market, and the final decision is made to what the market demands. One person should not give orders to another person, but both should agree to take orders from the situation. If orders are simply part of the situation, the question of someone giving and someone receiving does not come up. Both accept the orders given by the situation. 

(It’s language from the 1920s, not 2022, so forgive that.)

But the idea, 100 years old now, and one of the first management insights for change is this: it’s about the situation. In modern vernacular: fix the game, not the player. 

(a TikTok about situations) 

IT WAS SO FINE, FINE, FINE
At work, how might we apply this?

Maybe we could start a conversation on Monday and, on some Slack channel, ask, “Hey, how many people are having to work Sundays just not to feel overwhelmed on Monday mornings?” And ask why. Is it related to emails that come over the weekend? If that turns out to be accurate, you could ask on behalf of the whole group, “How about we make our work culture better by insisting that no one send emails on the weekends and holidays? If needed, they can write and schedule messages to arrive during the workweek.” 

Does that seem a bit too visionary? 

Or does it help to fight about who we want to be instead of just fending for ourselves? 

A way to shape and share the situation in which we work. 

And live. 

So we have each other’s backs. 

BORN, BORN TO BE ALIVE
The next time we see something that isn’t working, we may argue for a better situation. So that none of us feels the burden of just fending for ourselves. 

Or maybe we need to find better situations? That, I don’t know. 

What I do know is that the Latin for “being alive” is interhominemesse which means “to be amongst men,” whereas to be dead was interhominemesse desinere or “to cease being amongst men.” 

If we’re fully alive at work, it’s not enough to leave it to anyone to demand respect, but the work we do together, so we respect one another.

And then, like in this dance hall, we start grooving together. 

*(And men, if you don’t already know of these stories, ask any woman you know to share. My most recent experience was a drunk guy in my house demanding that I curate art for his new house even after I said no. Thank goodness that his wife finally got involved after three tries on my part to get him to stop. )

It’s the challenge of being clear and resolute in my Onlyness (my understanding of it) while ensuring I’m not appropriating someone else’s Onlyness and passing it off as my own. Or taking up space that might not be mine to own. For example, when I share a bunch of ideas resulting from the teams I work with. I use the word “we” to give credit to and quote people. But, sometimes, I get credited for those ideas. As if they were all my own. What do I do then? Not speak?

Similarly, I find myself in rooms where I advocate for things that serve an indigenous, less-wealthy community of people. I feel weird doing so because I’d rather those less powerful people be in the room and speak for themselves. I want to “pass the microphone” to those voices.  

So how do I use my voice without taking what isn’t mine? 

Dear Healthy Tension,

Someone I love is having problems with a colleague. For many years, her colleague has been angry. Slowly but surely, he started yelling in meetings. Over time, the yelling got directed at her, someone he supposedly respected. And when she raised a concern with how this made her feel? He says, “the criticism hurts him,” much like that podcaster asshat in A Matter of Trust.

Unsurprisingly, all of this created a lack of safety, affecting her voice. 

She started to walk on eggshells, parsing every word, so it was neat and just small enough to be heard. (If he could hear her at all.) 

That, lovebug, is taking what isn’t yours; when one voice is so loud that it drowns out anothers’.

This is not what I hear you describing, healthy tension. Not at all. 

THE SOUND OF ONE WHO MAKES A CHOICE
I hear you paying attention to who is in the room and who is left out. I see you becoming self-aware (probably good) but maybe overly self-conscious (perhaps less helpful). 

You remind me of someone else, I advise. 

In her leadership role, she wanted to give credit and help her team (and their Onlyness!) shine. But she neglected to notice that she had a seat at the table for a reason. Her annual review came with unexpected feedback from her bosses: they hadn’t heard enough of her distinct ideas.  

In wanting to share the microphone with her team, she had surrendered her voice. 

This is an overcorrection and misunderstanding about how one’s voice works. 

Advocating for each of us to be heard cannot and does not mean a smaller voice for you. 

It’s not pie, as the quote goes. 

HELPING EACH OTHER TO MAKE IT THROUGH
Voice is vital. 

But thinking of voice without context would be like saying flowers bloom to show off their colors. As if the beauty of those colors is in itself the fullness of expression.  

The Onlyness construct is so much more than that. It needs to be. 

So let me ask you this: Why DO flowering plants bloom?

Flowers bloom so they can perpetuate themselves. 

Perpetuate. From the Latin perpetuus, or continuing. As in to make something continue. 

Colorful flowers are not the point. They serve a purpose so that pollination can occur. 

Which is how voice matters, too. Voice matters because it’s how we hear those ideas and perspectives that come from that spot in the world only you stand. And so those ideas find their home, become real and robust, and make an impact.

As we wrote in This Is The Sound Of My Soul, voice is not a private act but a social one. And, as Lisa Feldman-Barrett just wrote, you can affect what goes on in another if you raise your voice or just your eyebrow. Belonging changes what voice does.

This is why voice alone isn’t Onlyness and why belonging is central. (grid, below). 

Belonging and voice are both needed for one’s Onlyness to shine. That person who is being yelled at? She’s been shown repeatedly how she is not valued, not respected. The lack of belonging in that relationship means she can’t be herself. Voice without belonging is isolating. Belonging without voice is a compromise of fitting in. But voice and belonging together cause a flourishing. Like wildflowers filling up a hillside in beauty, dancing in the wind. Like ideas making a dent in the universe. 

You ask, how do I use my voice without taking what isn’t mine?

It’s a helpful question, but I want to give you another one: How do I use my voice to perpetuate our work? 

Your voice, then, is of use when it is service to what matters. So when you speak and your team is not in the room, you perpetuate your team’s work. And when you talk about the topics you care about wrt indigenous folks, you perpetuate your shared agenda. (And build new tables, rooms where those voices are integrated by design.)

THE SOUND OF ME SINGING WITH YOU
You’re not the first one who has shared with me this challenge of “passing the microphone.” 

I get it. It’s problematic to hire Robin DeAngelo, the white woman who wrote White Fragility, so she earns money to speak on issues instead of hiring a Black thinker on the same topics. Pass the microphone.

But, I’ve heard this term, “passing the microphone,” come out of people’s mouths as they back away. A leader says he didn’t want to step on toes in his advocacy of Black people, so he stopped advocating altogether. Another said they don’t know if they should say uncomfortable things or defer to people with more skin in the game. Or like the leader who wants so much to be a good advocate for her team that she doesn’t advocate for herself as the leader of that team. 

And that’s when, Honest To Gawd, I feel like we’ve lost the thread.

Abandonment is not the point of “passing the microphone.” Passing the microphone is asking you to engage with stakeholders. As we’ve already explored, far too many people talk of people and for people rather than find ways to do things with people (and get them paid). The keyword is “with.” 

The future is not created; the future is co-created.

THIS IS THE SOUND OF ALL OF US

I love that you want to avoid taking what isn’t yours. You have named the tension about voice. It’s not about any singular voice counting, but how each of us needs to be heard. 

You want to learn how to set the volume of your voice so it’s clear but not loud.

What I want you to see is that when you start walking on eggshells using your voice, the very best part of you is being diminished. Instead, ask, as I am using my voice, and making it safe for others to use theirs. Make both things true. 

My goal is two-fold.

I want to be myself in this new role. I know from experience that my success in any job —and the value the organization gets from my work— is strongly and directly correlated with how open I am and the extent to which I bring my Onlyness to work. 

And, I want to create an environment where every person on the team (and everyone else I work with!) can feel free and safe to bring their Onlyness to work. I know this means believing in people building trust and empathy, but I don't know what all this means and what I still need to learn and practice. 

To distill this into a question, how can I build a team and an environment where Onlyness thrives as a leader who is new to an organization? I will be building a significant function in a newly formed subsidiary of a large corporation. I will have one team member in place on day one, so I will build my team mostly from scratch.

Hey there, Builder: 

What is the opposite of Onlyness? 

What is it that decenters one’s own ability to add value, so we’re not ourselves at work? 

The answer? Conformity. 

Read more

It seemed everyone shared fully. I wonder if that’s true because I knew I was holding back. What if my candid comments were used against me by corporate HR? There's no evidence that it is safe. (To be fair, there's no concrete evidence to the contrary.)

I feel really grateful to have been picked for the program. As I meet with my peers to discuss our varied experiences, I feel myself growing and learning. So much so that I could picture myself staying at this company for a long, long time.

But by withholding, am I not showing up, as you say, fully alive?”

Dear Withholding. 

You say that there’s no objective evidence that it’s safe to be yourself, one way or the other. 

But I wonder about that. 

I’d bet anything that you have data. Or, at least a part of you has it. 

Not the grateful part that feels lucky to be on the team at this good company. Not the growing and learning part that wants so very much to contribute your ideas. But the part that wants your Onlyness to be valued? That part f-ing knows.

YOU’RE GONNA FACE A MOMENT OF TRUTH
How—or, if—we reveal ourselves at work is a big question. 

It comes down to this: Can we trust that if we make ourselves known (to reveal is to make known), people will want to know us. If we open ourselves up to BE SEEN, will people SEE us? 

Or will they look right past us as if we didn’t matter? 

The worry is that if we reveal ourselves, some can’t or won’t see us. 

And that hurt? It’s a BIG hurt. 

Indeed, we each want to find our place in the world, connected in a community. And, of course, we want to contribute our value where we can. But what we wish for more deeply than anything is to be seen for our true selves. 

And when it doesn’t happen, it makes us feel invisible. Like we don’t exist. As if we’re not worthy. And, this is why any of us might “withhold.”  

Not because we’re trying to hide or deny others an opportunity to be more honest with each other. And it’s not, as you suggest, because we’re not showing up fully. 

No, we’re entrusted to protect that light. And, to keep it lit. 

So it seems smart to wait and learn who can be trusted to see us. 

COLD REMAINS OF WHAT BEGAN WITH A PASSIONATE START
And even then, even if we’ve vetted the room, we can end up deeply disappointed. 

Take, for example, a recent room I joined to do a management podcast. 

The person who invited me was someone that I’d met through a lovely group in London (the one that runs the “Academy Awards” for management, Thinkers50.) So I was looking forward to it. 

But as soon as I joined the Zoom session, I was surprised. 

Instead of greeting me, it’s so good to be working together, or something similar, the host, whom I’d met several times in person, said, so nice to meet you. 

I have to admit that I started to reexamine my life choices at that moment. 

I share this now, not for pity, but because the old me would have been so grateful to have been listed alongside a Nobel prize-winning economist that I would have found a way to excuse or dismiss this moment. The old me would have found some excuse, like fatigue or confusion. The old me would have comforted him as if it was no big deal. 

But this is not who I am today.  This time, I took notice. 

I started to realize that the very gracious and well-thought-out request that had gotten me to say yes was probably written by some complete stranger. It was someone’s job to recruit and solicit the best people to make their sponsored podcast successful.

I then realized that his not remembering me probably also meant he didn’t remember exactly how I had helped him with his last big book idea.

As I was processing what I noticed, the second guest for this podcast joined. He was late and, yet, unapologetic. And all the attention went to him, asking if he was comfortable with the format and if he wanted to change the design so that he didn’t have to answer a crucial but challenging question that his peers had upvoted. 

Which, I observed, hadn’t happened for me. I wasn’t given any such choices. 

After that, we were introduced to each other. Well, not quite that. I was asked to inform my fellow panelist of my background and ideas and left to advocate for myself. 

Each observation unto itself?  Small bits of information, 

But in total, a sign and signal about what I meant to them. 

Or evidence, using your word.

BREAK MY HEART IF YOU MUST 

I shared that “backstage” story out here in broad daylight because my former me would have been so focused on being super grateful to be included alongside Daniel Kahneman that I would have ignored all that data that I noticed. 

And, denying all the signs of their unseeing. 

Maybe I would have taken it a step further by second-guessing myself, wondering if it is “egotistical” to want to be remembered. Maybe doubting if I even need to have choices or the same respect as a Nobel prize-winning economist. 

In other words, I would have tried to rationalize their use of me. Not because I have incredibly poor self-esteem (though, like everyone, I have my own set of issues and the related therapy bills to work on them, thankyouverymuch), but because making the issue about me gave me some semblance of control and sanity. So I would say that just being picked is enough, or just being able to help them was goodness. And therefore downplaying my full value. 

But these years of studying Onlyness have taught me something important: We each count. 

So it’s not a question of whether you’re worthy of them, but are they worthy of your truths?

That means it’s not enough to be grateful to be picked.  It’s not even enough to be able to add your value. We can want something more. 

And I think that part of you that writes to me wants that, too. 


SOME LOVE IS JUST A LIE OF THE SOUL

I got a follow-up note from those podcast folks. 

“You were at your brilliant best, charismatic and insightful, and a true joy to work with. The response we received from fellow panelists and Daniel was nothing but positive.

I hope you enjoyed it, as much as we did hosting you.”

And I wrote back that—while I hated to say it—I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t like being forgotten. Or having all the men plug each others’ books without mentioning my three notable books. Or being asked to introduce myself rather than someone vouching for me. 

To which they responded…

“Reading your email really hurt me.”

Le Sigh. Even now, they can’t acknowledge a new point of view, or onlyness.

And so you know what I think? 

I think you’re absolutely brilliant in figuring out the room before deciding if they are worthy of your truths.

Do that more. Trust that part of you that knows you deserve to be seen. 

My mental soundtrack for this essay:

And you lucky ducks, a BONUS song from our Editor of FullyAlive@Work:

P.s. Reminder that you’re always invited to join our Fully Alive@Work Column Club, where we discuss our takeaways from the most recent columns to make them even more actionable.  If you'd like to join us this week at 9 am PT/5 pm GMT on Wednesday, Jan 19th, we'd LOVE to have you.  Please email Katie Hingle (katie.hingle@gmail.com) by 5 pm PT on Tuesday the 18th, and she'll send you the Zoom info and the guidelines we observe for good meetings.

Q: I’ve been watching the Great Resignation with interest, and I think I’m experiencing something different. Is it a Great Reflection? Or maybe a Great Contemplation? Or a Great Reconsideration? I’m a knowledge worker, a professional who did fine during the pandemic by all financial standards. I couldn’t spend any money, and I kept earning a lot. But I am asking myself a question or two that I’ve never asked before. The biggest of which is whether the culture of work—where work is, well, everything—is something I want to belong to. I certainly don’t want to end up like Done. I’m not alone in this, am I?

Q:  Remember back to the toilet paper shortage in early 2020? I remember freaking out and spending hours and hours going from store to store to make sure I had “enough.” (I still have some from that supply run!) And that carried over to other things.  How there are not enough jobs, good work, and caring at work. I’m a leader of a 10-person team, and I’ve been clinging to my job even though it’s deeply unsatisfying. My boss couldn’t care less about me as a person. And though I care, I don’t even want to ask how my team feels because I don’t think I could do anything about it. I found myself reading Done’s note and thinking, this is who I’ll be in 10 years. I feel like I see my not-so-enough future. I know you want us to be better than this, to be fully alive. But what you ask, a Great Reset of sorts, seems like another planet. 

Dear Recognized, Reflecting, and Remembering –

I am connecting your three notes because you seem to be asking the same question. 

Recognized, you’re thinking of how to flip the Great Resignation story, so it centers correctly. Reflecting, you are asking new questions but wondering if doing so will lead you away from your peeps/pack/tribe, which is to say you worry you’ll be alone. And, Remembering, you seem to be reminding us to celebrate what we do have, but you also appear, I dunno, resigned to things staying the same shitty. I take it as a sign that you want an alternative scenario from the not-enough-ness by writing to me. 

You’re each asking—albeit, in different ways—how do we make sense of the shitshow that is this particular moment?

AS THE BATTLE RAGED HIGH
Crisis, however painful, can be productive. Which is to say, a crisis can change us. Or maybe it’s more than that? Crisis does change us. Not all at once, of course. But, as we let it. It can cause us to appreciate what is still good and worth celebrating. It can cause us to ask better questions. And it can cause us to recognize new truths. 

But, in the middle of a crisis, it’s hard to orient. Let alone, navigate. So how do we make sense in the middle of all the crazy?

It’s a big question. 

And what comes to mind is an idea from one of my favorite management thinkers, Mary Parker Follett:

"One test of our organization is not IF you have a conflict for that is the essence of life, but knowing what the nature of the conflict IS."

If a conflict is denied, she’d have said, we lose the friction that causes us to make things better. If conflict is misunderstood, it’s so easy to feel like the choice is limited to one party “winning” at the cost of another party compromising. Name the conflict effectively, though, and you can get people working together to solve that conflict. 

Naming a conflict helps us not just to make sense of it but maybe even to solve it. 

After all, when we know what we’re fighting about, we know who we’re fighting for. 

SO MANY DIFFERENT WORLDS, SO MANY DIFFERENT SUNS
Sounds obvious, right? 

But it’s not. 

Not for me, anyway. I mostly don’t know what I think and what to make of things until I’ve sat with it for a while.

Let’s take the situation of Done in my last column, Cranes in the Sky. You’ll remember how she had worked for 20 years at a law firm? She had slept in the building during the big superstorms. She had worked double-time during the pandemic.  She was fried. Beyond that. Exhausted. Depleted. And no wonder. She kept giving and giving and wasn’t getting the rest, care, or support she needed. 

And so she shared her crisis and asked, how does this nightmare change? 

My first instinct was to say to her, choose yourself here. But that would have said the conflict was within her. Indeed, she wasn’t advocating well for her needs, but it’s probably just as true her social setting wasn’t letting her. 

If I had said she needed to fix the situation herself, it made her the hero of the story. But it also made her the villain, in a way. Saying it was her fault that things suck.

Which felt off to me. When so many others face the same dynamic. 

So I sat with it some more. 

Even thinking maybe the conflict was with her boss, how they’re treating her wrong. That would make the bossman the villain and her the hero by getting outta that job. Voila, triumph.  

Yet, I’ve never found that brand of antagonism very useful. (Fun sometimes, but not useful). As I reread the note, it didn’t seem like the harm was sociopathic or anything. Done's boss/team seemed to be doing the best they could. (Plus, I was convinced that if she did leave, she’d end up in a new place that would treat her much the same!)

So I kept thinking of some way to name the conflict to put everyone on the same side of the table. 

Us facing a problem. Us. Against it. 

And that’s how I ended up naming the management framework of “high-impact players.” Using a checklist from Liz Wiseman’s latest book praising HIP's, we applied it to Done's situation: 

• Taking on challenging assignments? Yep.

• Anticipating and meeting the needs of the business? Absolutely. 

• Delivering for the company? Yep-a-doodle. 

• Doing it over and over again? For 20 years. 

• So the boss man can come to count on you? Check.

Looking at that list, I pointed out how the construct of HIP’s (high-impact players) ENSURES that the business needs are served, yet it leaves to CHANCE that the one delivering that value is equally well-served.  

It denies the measure of respect and worth due to each of us. Onlyness. Because Onlyness is about centering that distinct spot in the world where only one stands.

What I didn’t write in that column but thought about a lot? 

How damaging this mindset of the HIP is. Because what—at first glance—looks like progressive management (anyone can succeed, if they work hard enough!) actually progresses the oppression of many workers. 

(And just so you know, I am not telling you something I didn’t already tell Liz in person.) 

I share all this backstory to show how I came to make sense of Done's question. 

When we name the conflict effectively, we can get people working together to solve that. So it’s not yours or mine, but ours. 

Because for workplaces to be fully alive? The goal is to fix the game, not hate the players. 

DO NOT DESERT ME, MY BROTHERS IN ARMS
Helpful, I hope? 

Whenever I’m trying to make sense of things, I find it helps remember something, how everyone is just doing the best we all can. It’s more often the structures and systems we’re operating in that are making us do crappy things. We have far too many outdated metrics and specific management frameworks that, well, don’t work. 

It’s why memes like this exist all over the web.

It’s why we need to rethink things. To challenge convention. It’s also why I write: to learn as I answer your questions and share what I see with you. So that, if it’s on point, you’ll see it too. So much so that you can’t unsee it. And, maybe, you’ll send the column to a friend or bud at work and be like, I feel this. And then you’ll have that bud with whom you can discuss it and maybe even find the words and courage to create change at work. 

You might say:

• Money is no more the only thing of value, just as yardsticks are not the only thing that measures length. 

• How authenticity is meaningless without actively addressing bias. 

• Servant Leadership (so beloved by so many) doesn’t serve us. 

• Why rewarding individual performance leads to significant failures. 

• Why do we need to stop asking women to “speak up.”

These columns I’m linking to?  They are just part of what has been created in this last year and a half of writing. Nearly every column I’ve come to see is about an existing management framework, metric, or model that limits us, stops us from being fully alive at work. 

I hadn’t put that together until writing this column, so you’ve helped me see anew to make sense of things too. 

I am ever so grateful to be doing this work with you and for you. Thanks for writing your questions. 

I hit what feels like a brick wall of burnout - not the metaphorical kind, but the clinically measurable variety whereby the brain and body start to go on strike to protect themselves, the health-compromising kind where systems start to involuntarily reject work for the sustainability of the vehicle.

After two decades working at a best-in-class corporate law firm with an intense work ethic (during which I have worked frequent weekends and holidays and slept at the HQ building through superstorms and flooding to help keep operations running round the clock), and now after the workload doubled during the past two years to help clients navigate a rapidly evolving pandemic economy. I don't think I have a 97th wind to access for even one more sprint.

I know I am not the only one asking these questions. As evidenced by the statistics and coverage about "the great resignation period" we are seeing and by the stories of shared confusion and collapse that I am hearing from my peers, I think we’re all wondering… how might we come fully alive when we are actually burned out and depleted?

Signed, Done Grinding

Dear Done,

My first response was to say that rest matters, that sleep matters, that you matter. That the way to being fully alive? It’s not by being an empty husk of a person. 

But, when you didn’t write back, I reflected.

Wondering if my first take missed the mark.  

Because, of course, you likely know all that. Maybe you need a reminder, but you probably already know about boundaries and self-worth. And while it’s always worth repeating, I’d bet money that you already know how you must first value yourself if you’re ever going to be fully valued.  With your 20 years of work-life, you’re not so naive or such a noob as to be blindly loyal to a firm that, if you left tomorrow, would be posting to fill your seat the same day. 

So, I’ve stayed curious. Asking, what’s the real challenge here? 

And that’s when I started to feel it. 

How I’ve not only thought that it’s okay to do as you’ve done, Done; I’ve hailed it as a mark of excellence. After all, told from another angle, sleeping at work shows a commitment to making an impact. And saving the firm from near disaster is anticipating the businesses’ needs. All to be the person the team counts on. 

BUILDING UP, UP, UP
I got the work assignment without much warning. I had been off to meet some running buds when I got stopped in the hallway by the president of Apple USA. He had never spoken to me 1:1 before. Jim Buckley knows my name, I had thought delightedly.

As he showed me his spreadsheet, I wanted to understand how one product was profitable and growing while every other product (literally every other Apple product at the time) was declining in operating margin. He asked, could I help?  

And what could I say? That I’d never done anything like what he was asking? That I had no idea where to start? No. I said, absolutely, I’ll help. I’ll learn. I’ll figure it out.

As he walked away, I walked back down the hall and into my bosses’ office, explaining the challenge. And she said, yeah, he [meaning, Buckley] had been trying to find a “sucker” to take that mission on.  

Having just said yes, I felt trapped.  

To make matters worse, my boss said something like, well, if you feel like going on a fool’s errand, go ahead. But, she added, my day job was still my job. I would get no relief from any of my current work.  

(The irony — if that’s the word? — of this completely missed me at the time. How the entire revenue stream of a global 100 company was tanking at a record pace, but boss man was worried about the “optics,” so his attempts to fix it was kept on the down-low. So underresourced that it became the job of a relatively low-leveled program manager …as a side hustle. )

At that time, I did what business experts advise. Say Yes, they implore. Lean in, always. Hustle Hard. Be the one whose leaders can come to count on.

Which is why I thought, “I’ll just show her!”

Which I (and other teammates) did. Product sales grew from 2 to 180 million in just over a year.

But long before the market success, I sat there alone. First, I called in favors and bought dinner out of my own salary to help people understand what I didn’t know about that part of the business. I got up early and missed workouts to make east coast calls until I asked some questions no one had thought to ask thus far. I slept in the office as I taught myself advanced PPT skills to create an excellent clear packaging of the proposed solution. And, I pulled an all-nighter, rehearsing the pitch into the wee morning hours.

The way I saw it then? Adding value was how one got valued. Not so much a choice but just how it is. It never occurred to me to expect leaders to treat me as already worthy. 

RAN AROUND IN CIRCLES
After all, firms hire talented, capable people like you. 

But instead of valuing them at the get-go and asking themselves how to enable EACH person to add their value, firms ask people to hustle to prove one’s worth. It’s like asking a child to prove that they are lovable when, of course, each child is already lovable. Respect at work, like love, is unhealthy if it is conditional. And if you’ve ever been in any relationship where you have to “prove” your worth, you already know how arbitrary approval can be.

If we were to name this culture? It’s the one that values “high-impact players.” 

Are you taking on challenging assignments? Yes! 
Are you anticipating and meeting the needs of the business? Check. Are you delivering for the business? Hell, to the yeah. 
And do it over and over again. 
All so the boss man can come to count on you. 

The construct of high-impact players ENSURES the business needs are served. 
While it leaves to CHANCE that the one delivering ALL that value is equally well-served. 

And wanna know the most egregious part?

The “high-impact players” who can deliver and not get burned out?  They are the ones who can afford to pay for take-out, to have someone walk their dog, and do all the other things that need doing. Like laundry. It's incredibly likely a person whose spouse is a stay-at-home spouse, so the children are cared for while doing their "high impact work.” 

The culture that celebrates high-impact players, in other words, is a culture that supports that some (same) people rise while the rest die trying, much like a meritocracy. 

AWAY, AWAY, AWAY, AWAY, AWAY
And so you ask, how can we come alive at work if we’re all depleted and spent?

I wish it were as simple as having you or I set better boundaries or the like. Because that would mean the answer could be something you and I could control all by ourselves. 

But that would deny the power of social norms and how belonging precedes the ability to do stuff. Which far better explains how work compels us to ignore, even repress, our own needs. It’s not a personal weakness. We, humans, are social animals.

But perhaps you already have part of the answer. You asked, how can we become alive. 

Finding the “we” is the work, the work of us. Find and fill your circle with people who will have your back. The ones who will challenge how much you’re ignoring them and say, hey, you deserve better. The friends who will tell you deserve to rest, you deserve sleep, you deserve respect at work. 

Create social crews, so we create new social norms, Norms that center Onlyness. 

Which by the by isn’t about anti-capitalist, but pro-honoring. Honoring not just a few but inclusive of EACH of us, accounting for those whose humanity is constantly challenged. Immigrants or Black people, or women. EACH of us.

We do the work of being fully alive by being together on this. 

It’s undoubtedly why our column club exists. It’s why I show up to this work. So you can hear yourself ask the question, and how we learn new ways of being. 

And so next time? Well, then you won’t feel alone when you say “Yes of course I want to help you deliver and meet all the demand our firm has. But the answer to that is not for me (or anyone else) to become a human sacrifice at the altar of work. The answer is not to be depleted and exhausted. Instead, let’s allocate some 20% of your time to connect and recruit folks to join up so that, together, it’s designed right.”

DON’T WANNA FEEL THOSE METAL CLOUDS
The social norm of “high impact players” asks us to leave it all on the field. And to smile while doing it. (Or blame ourselves for being exhausted!) 

The business says, look up and see the cranes in the sky creating height and growth for the companies we work for. But this takes our eyes off the prize. If we look at our own lives, at the ground level, and see the catastrophe of feeling hollowed out, we know that even though it’s good for the business,  it’s not good for us. 

Let’s work to change that, shall we? 

p.s. We have our next column club planned to discuss these ideas. Led by Garry Turner and Katie Hingle. It’s Wednesday, Nov 17th at 9 am Pacific time. The first two Column Club discussions have been energetic, enlightening, and community-building. RSVP: Nov 16th, 5 pm Pacific to Katie to receive Zoom dial-in, and ground rules.