It was an awe-inspiring talk. The scene: the last auditorium-style meeting I’d attend before the pandemic, and then retirement, put an end to such things. My company’s CMO had summoned her 120+ global staff for the yearly All Hands assembly. The guest speaker was Shellye Archambeau, a colleague of hers whose book was about to be published. The title: Unapologetically Ambitious: Take Risks, Break Barriers, and Create Success on Your Own Terms.
Her career advice was insightful and precise. But I found her personal story more compelling. Imagine, as a high school kid, deciding you wanted to be a CEO. And making it happen, despite very long odds. Like not coming from an affluent family. Or being a woman in a predominantly male profession. And being black. And overcoming the tragedy of her husband’s untimely death.
She detailed how, with sheer determination, she worked through her education, sought out opportunities with mentors, worked to continually study and improve her skills, survived setbacks, but kept the vision of her future clearly in focus. And eventually broke barriers, became CEO (and the key to its turnaround) of tech startup, a corporate advisor, and board member for Fortune 500 companies.
In the darkened audience, a colleague and I turned to each other. We both whispered something to the effect: My career looks nothing like this.
And Then, I Felt a Twinge of … Guilt?
I realized it might not be accurate to say I had a “career” at all. I didn’t become a CEO or even a VP, and never intended to. I’ve skipped across the river of work life, from one stepping stone to another. Often for more money and more responsibility, though that was rarely the main motivation. I took each next leap primarily because I found the challenge interesting and something I might even enjoy. Sometimes I stretched and reinvented myself. Sometimes I just went to test out myself at a new level of expertise.
As I’ve slid into retirement, even this blog is not something I imagine will make me visible and famous. I have no special expertise to promote myself as a career adviser. I just want to share what I’ve learned along the way. One key theme will be: you can turn out alright just by following your instincts. It’s OK to be ambitious and driven toward a specific goal. It’s also OK not to be.
As weeks and months roll forward, I’ll update this post with links to stories and observations on this theme of following your interests over following your “best interests.”