We tend to gauge our achievements using two differing criteria.
On one hand, there are accomplishments that make others aware of our ability and result in their recognizing us. This is what most people think about when they discuss achievement. On the other hand, there are accomplishments that only we are aware of, related to our own abilities, that make us feel good about ourselves. Both are legitimate in their own way. If we have the motivation, ability, understanding, confidence and authenticity needed to excel, we will achieve our goals.
In the best of all worlds, the two types of achievement could be the same – what we do that impresses others makes us feel great too. But it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes we perform magnificently at work, to great acclaim, but it doesn’t elevate how we feel about ourselves. Sometimes we do something wonderful for the world, and no one else is impressed.
It’s easy to cite examples of achievements that make others aware of our ability. It happens every time we do something that’s measured by someone else. If you’re a baseball player, your career is bulging with metrics that indicate how you’re doing, from your batting average to your fielding percentage, to your performance with runners in scoring position, and so on.
CEOs are almost in the same league as athletes. From their companies’ recent gain or loss in stock price to earnings per share, to return on investment, to market share, everything they do gets the scoreboard treatment, flashing the news of their performance to everyone.
The metrics to determine “What have you done lately?” are all around us. But what if someone else’s yardstick isn’t how you measure what you’ve done lately? What if making others aware of your ability isn’t your driving force?
That’s when the second criterion kicks in: You value your achievements based on how good you feel about yourself and what you’re doing.
Humanitarians are an extreme example of this. If they’re fighting hunger or disease in Africa, they’re not doing it to impress others with their humanitarian skill set. They’re not doing it to land a better job after their detour in Africa. Few people pay attention to what they do. Doing humanitarian work is what they do, with or without anyone else watching, because it helps others and, in turn, makes them feel good about the life they’ve chosen.
Teachers, police officers, firefighters and social workers are not much different. They don’t go into these jobs for the money. For the most part, they don’t do it for the glory or applause. Yes, there’s careerism – a competitive urge to impress others in order to climb up the ladder – in these jobs, but it’s not the dominant force. They do these jobs to serve others in their community. That invests the job with purpose and meaning. That’s why they feel good about it.
Musicians, writers and artists fit that mold, too. The odds of making it big in any of these pursuits are so long it’s amazing anyone sticks with them. Yes, actors love the spotlight and get onstage because they want to impress others with their ability. But if you’ve ever met an actor, professional or amateur, you know that validation in the form of praise or a standing ovation is not their primary motivating force.
After all, even when the critics blast them for their performance and audiences yawn, actors continue to pursue their craft – because they feel good doing it. To them, acting is its own reward.
The hedge fund manager who answers “What have you done lately?” by privately calculating his net worth or by citing that his fund is up 12 percent above alpha for the year is no less authentic than the relief worker who answers the same question by telling herself, “I save lives.”
For some people, meaning and happiness revolve around financial security. Other people find meaning in helping others. I’m not judging any of these people. If people pursue either of these goals with clarity of purpose – in other words, they know exactly what they’re doing and they’re not pretending otherwise – they will have all the mojo, that positive spirit that starts inside and radiates outside, they need.
by Marshall Goldsmith, Ph.D. | Talent Management
[About the Author: Dr. Marshall Goldsmith is a world authority in helping successful leaders achieve positive, lasting change in behavior. He is the author or co-editor of 27 books, including Mojo.]
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