I left college thinking I still had a lot to prove. In fact I took a year after university to work, and see what the ‘real world’ looked like, from washing dishes and cleaning toilets, to packing boxes in a warehouse and fielding calls on a customer service (complaints) desk. Even at the end of that year I didn’t feel I knew it all as I began a three year program training as an accountant.
I joined my training firm at a tough time economically. A number of people I had quickly come to like lost their jobs. I was insulated because I was cheap labor. I was given the chance to prove myself.
My principle manager was uncompromising, and I didn’t appreciate her direct style. Perhaps I was too soft. I found evening therapy in a SEGA Mega Drive, playing Mortal Kombat. I may not have enjoyed the relationship but I knew my manager was high quality, and I needed to stick it out, I needed to learn from her, I needed to prove myself.
When I qualified as an accountant I moved into industry, where I found myself managing 16 people who had been doing the same operational job for many years. Their ambition was different from the driven, career-oriented professionals I was used to. A few months into my tenure a small cadre of my team, most of whom were older than me, invited me out for drinks after work. It was a ruse, because they used the opportunity to tell me precisely how I ought to be doing my job. Maybe I should have moved to an organization with a different culture, but I didn’t leave, I had something to prove.
I had to fly to other side of the world to rescue someone who had been unwilling to take my advice, and avoid these circumstances in the first place. Unable to finish the task by the end of the trip I flew back to the UK and then back around to the other side of the world again a few weeks later. It was the first time I recall physically falling asleep as I was typing an email at work. The person who didn’t take my advice proceeded to tell me exactly what I should have done, and how – he didn’t like getting his hands dirty with work; he was a ‘manager.’ I would be rescuing him for some time to come. I raised my voice, a lot, one of only two occasions at work where that has happened. I didn’t leave, because I still had something to prove.
I moved to another country to work on an 18 month project. The project didn’t go well, suffered multiple delays, and was relaunched four years later. To complete the work it was run in an autocratic style. The juxtaposition with the more collaborative culture of the organization was jarring, and attrition in the project team was high. I said farewell to people who had become friends over the years, but I didn’t leave, because I had something to prove to myself.
The project went live, and a friend remarked how I could update my résumé with amazing, in-demand experience for something I never wanted to experience again. I had nothing left to prove. I never had anything to prove, but I still didn’t leave. Maybe I had forgotten how to leave.
