The Case for Knowing Your Own Story
No institution gets to own your story.
I took a sip of coffee as I waited for my boss to dial into our weekly touchpoint. Two faces popped up instead of one. Before I could swallow, I realized this chapter of my career was about to end. Having spent several years supporting leaders from Corporate Communications, I knew what a random visit from HR meant. I muttered “Damn it” under my breath.
That was about three years ago this week. Most days, it doesn't feel that long ago. I had helped so many leaders plan workforce reductions, but this was my first time being on the other end of the equation. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t anything I had done, but knowing the door was closing on someone else’s terms still stung.
I see stories of this happening so often today and feel for every one of those people.
In my case, after the initial shock, it really did turn out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me professionally. I had a good career there. I worked with some truly extraordinary people. I met the love of my life there. I did work I'm proud of and learned things I still draw on every day. But I knew it was time to try something new. Still, when that chapter ended, I found myself facing a question I'd spent a big part of my career helping other people answer.
Who am I, professionally, when the organization that helped define me is no longer part of the introduction?
Being forced to answer that question has been something I’m very grateful for. I didn’t get there overnight. Half the time, I still have to stop myself from giving the old answer when someone asks what I do. It's a surprisingly uncomfortable question, and it's one I think a lot more people are going to have to answer.
After thirty years of helping people and organizations tell their stories, there's one thing I've come to believe. The last three years have just cemented it for me.
The people who know themselves, who have taken the time to understand their experiences and what those experiences mean, have an enormous advantage.
Having a compelling story doesn't guarantee success. But not knowing your own story? That's a remarkably effective way to sideline yourself.
Your employer may provide the context for your work. It doesn't own the meaning of that work. You carry that with you.
You can get laid off, decide it's time for something else, or stay there until you retire. It doesn’t matter. The meaning behind your work gets carried out with you in that metaphorical cardboard box right along with your favorite coffee mug.
It’s up to you to understand what you're carrying.
**
No tool gets to tell your story.
Imagine it's November 1, 2006. Twenty years ago. You wake up on that fine Wednesday morning and open your eyes to see a shiny metal box. There’s a note on the top that says, “Press the button and tell me what you want to make. I can write anything or create any image you can imagine in seconds.” Amazing right? What else would you possibly need? Just think of what you could do with this magic box.
You see where I’m going here. Since then, Ludacris traded playing ‘Money Maker’ on the radio every five minutes for selling insurance. And everybody has the magic box.
Your dry cleaner has it. Your grandma has it too and her Christmas letter is gonna be a banger this year. Everyone in your office has it. So does everyone on the planet that wants your job.
A lot of what you used to produce can be done in seconds. Is it as good? Most of it no, but it’s usually good enough. Like it or not, it’s getting better all the time.
Most of us came up in the days when what we produced defined our worth. Need a product description that will get everyone’s attention? She’s the best. Need this board presentation to land? He’s your guy. For a lot of us, the thing you could make was what people thought about.
What happens when your output can be matched by just about everyone? Do you know how to explain what makes you better?
Consider what's happening in the job market. Employers are using automated systems to sort and rank the flood of applications. Candidates are matching their applications to the posting to get above that line, but too often stripping out what makes them unique. Employers are now struggling to figure out which applicants might be worth a look in the resulting sea of gray. We're building increasingly sophisticated machines to help people appear qualified to other machines. And somewhere in the middle of it all, there's an actual human being. Someone with experiences, judgment, values, ambitions, and a perspective shaped by a lifetime of living. Someone who might be exactly what that organization needs.
We're so busy optimizing the exchange of information that we risk losing sight of the person behind it. That's the absurdity of the whole thing. When everyone has the advantage, nobody does. We’ve all got the same tools now. The difference isn't what the tools can do. It's what you bring to them.
And that brings me to the one thing I am certain of.
Figuring out what makes you, well…you, is so much more important now than it used to be. The volume on everything is so high right now. Yelling louder isn’t the answer. Being ready to calmly state who you are, what you have chosen to do with your life, and why it matters is part of the answer.
That's an advantage no magic box can give you on its own.
**
Only you get to own your story.
As tempting as it may be, the answer isn't to reject the tools or retreat from the world. It's to understand yourself well enough to use them intentionally.
Take the time to figure out what makes you different.
Where you're from matters.
What you've done matters.
Where you want to go next matters.
And what you believe matters most of all.
Because when the job title disappears, when the tools change, when the rules are rewritten yet again, those are the things you still carry with you.
And they're the things nobody else gets to define for you.
Knowing your own story gives you something to work from.
It helps you decide what to say, what to leave out, and what deserves more attention. It gives you a way to explain your experience to a potential employer, a customer, or someone you're meeting for the first time without simply reciting a list of accomplishments.
It gives you a better starting point when you sit down with a writer, a designer, or that magic box on your desk. Instead of asking someone or something else to figure out who you are, you can tell them.
And when the circumstances change, as they inevitably will, you can adapt without having to reinvent yourself every time.
So, who am I, and why should anyone care?
Turns out, I'm not just the guy who makes the PowerPoint or the press release.
I'm the guy who asks why the hell we're making the PowerPoint in the first place. The one who presses the question of what we're actually trying to say. Who needs to hear it and what we hope they'll understand when we're done.
The magic box can make the deck, but it can’t tell you whether the deck should exist.
The uncomfortable truth is success still isn’t guaranteed. Owning your story and controlling the narrative aren’t exactly the same thing. You can do all the things right, but still not come out on top. Knowing your story and what it means still gives you a fighting chance.
The facts don’t change. What we understand about them does.
And what we choose to do with that understanding is entirely up to us.