You know that thing you do that’s, well, just a bit crazy? Yeah, that. Do you have any clue why you do it? If it’s just your weekend hobby, getting right down to the bones of your why might not be so critical unless you’re the person on the skis in this picture. But if you’re putting in forty hours a week doing something, the more ownership you have for your why, the more agency you’ll feel.
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My first job was as a cashier at a grocery store. When things were slow, they’d send the boys out to get the carts. I didn’t get the memo about pushing carts and gender. Here’s the thing, the guys would go out and make a game of bringing in as many carts as they could, the train of silver and rust wheels stretching further and further. At that store, to get the carts by the door, you had to go up a ramp. The parking lot was gently sloped away from the building, so the closer you got to the door with your long line of carts, the more physically challenging it was to both get the carts up the ramp and to turn them and not crash into the windows.
Looking back, it might have been a slightly irresponsible game.
Never-the-less, the manager was a tough, cigar-smoking old fashioned barrel of a man, and he didn’t seem to mind it. Like I said, no memo. So I started going out and bringing in carts. One day, I had a very long line of carts, the most I’d ever stacked. I was headed for the ramp with a nice head of steam. It was late, there were no shoppers coming out, so I went for it. I got the front cart to the top of the ramp. A man stepped out from the shadows and put his foot on the front wheel of the cart. Of course, the whole chain came to a stop.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. It was the assistant manager. I couldn’t see his face, he was silhouetted against the windows.
He wasn’t a dumb man. He could see I was bringing in carts. So I didn’t offer that explanation. I was nonplussed. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I didn’t know why he stopped me and he never explained. He removed his foot and went back inside.
I can be a prideful thing. I pushed that chain of carts from a dead stop up the ramp, made the turn and put them all in a neat line by the wall outside the door. I never did know why he stopped me. To this day, I don’t know if it was because I was going too fast, if he thought it was a risk for our customers, if he didn’t like women bringing in carts or if he just didn’t like me.
I do know it took me a week to come up with the word that explained what I was doing, and I needed adult help to come up with it. Competent. I thought I was being competent. I was working at something productive at a time when the other cashiers were standing around. I was performing the work as well or better than the other people who brought in carts, meaning I brought in a lot and I brought them in quickly.
That was a pivotal incident for me. Once I found that word, the incident stopped bothering me. At least I knew what the hell I thought I was doing.
I learned a lot from that. I learned that waiting for someone else to explain why I’m working is folly. Nobody other than myself knows what I’m trying to accomplish at the most personal level by the way I work, the work I choose to do and the manner I choose to do it. Nobody other than myself needs to.
In the end, it didn’t matter at all what the assistant manager thought about my cart pushing skills. He didn’t bother to communicate his perspective to me. I, however, found my perspective and a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to answer his question. I knew exactly what the hell I thought I was doing and that felt great.
Things are a little different now at work. I’ve got a terrific manager and have been lucky to have several of them in the past. They’ve taken time to explain their visions and offer that most valuable of all things – critical feedback. Doing a good job requires more than keeping my station clean and the money in my register correct, but one thing remains the same.
Nobody can tell us what the hell we think we’re doing.
That, my friends, is something we have to answer for ourselves, and my friends, it still requires some thoughtful consideration to come up with the answer. The good news is, when you do, it still feels incredible, powerful and stabilizing.
So why do you do what you do – at work?
To answer the question, let go of the traditional for a moment. Because the assistant manager could see what I was doing when he asked that question of me, he took away that easy answer. I couldn’t say – I’m bringing in carts, what did you think I was doing?
So when you look at why you go to work and what you’re trying to accomplish there, don’t let yourself say – I’m promoting our new product, obviously. Don’t let yourself say – I’m paying my bills, duh. Really put some skin in the game. Your own skin.
What is it you are looking for? What is floating your boat? As a teenage female competing with others for recognition and for promotions, I wanted to be seen as competent. I wanted to demonstrate that there was nothing in that store that I couldn’t do. I wanted to be useful and strong. I was at work to prove that I could be independent, pay my own way and earn my keep.
Once I understood that, it didn’t matter if I was pushing carts, balancing registers or running down the aisles to get a customer just the right toothpaste. I could be competent and I could achieve my objective. I could change jobs and still keep working on being ever more competent. My reason for being at work was independent of my work, my gender, my employer or even my direct manager. My reason belonged to me.
I’m just a weird kid that grew up to be a slightly odd woman. I’m not a rocket scientist or a superstar. My features are symmetrical, so there’s that. But I do know one thing – if I can figure out why I’m working, so can you.
After talking to person after person about what they want out of work, I know that the chances are, you have a strong why. You have a noble calling. You want to be excellent. Or you want to help others. You are full of ideas and you want to share them. Maybe you want to provide for your family. There’s something there we want, separate from the mountain of objectives that we’re all looking at as we head into the breach of 2020, with our corporate marching orders and our electronic dashboards.
Find out why you do what you do. If you’re not sure, take a guess. Carry it around with you for a week or so. You’ll know when you find it because the guys with their foot on your wheel won’t matter anymore. You’ll know what the hell you think you’re doing and it will feel – great.
And that? Is just freakin’ awesome to know.