My friend Aaron once told me that I blend in with “the man,” even though I’m clearly not one of them. He meant it as a compliment, but I didn’t take it that way. It reminded me of something I was a bit ashamed of. I was focusing too much on office politics and losing my sense of self over time.
Aaron’s comment woke me up because it brought up feelings I didn’t expect. Back then, I was trying to reinvent myself after years in consulting and had just started my coaching practice. I asked Aaron for feedback on my strengths and weaknesses to figure out my niche in executive coaching and pin down my value.
I had no idea that the question I was asking him would bounce around for years before I finally figured it out.
For over a decade, I kept asking myself the same questions over and over: What am I all about? What do I offer that others can’t? What is my niche? What is my brand?
I tried to use impressive language, and I borrowed frameworks from others. And when I talked about my work, I noticed I was doing exactly what Aaron had pointed out. For some reason, I kept trying to blend in. I kept playing office politics, even though I wasn’t in an office anymore.
What playing office politics trains you to do
Playing office politics requires a certain set of skills. You have to read the room, match its tone, and avoid standing out. That works if you want to survive in a big organization, but it’s not helpful when you’re trying to build something that reflects who you are.
This is something I’ve noticed in myself and in the leaders I coach. Office politics rewards people who can sense what a group wants and give it to them. That skill is useful, but it can also be a trap. The better you get at reading the room, the easier it is to disappear into it.
You start changing yourself to fit in. You tone down opinions that might be risky and hold back ideas that feel too personal. Over time, the qualities that made you valuable get smoothed out until they’re safer, but also less useful.
Coco Chanel once said that:
“In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.”
For years, I tried to be replaceable. I wanted to be the safe, credible option who fit in everywhere. But once I started working for myself, I realized that standing out was essential.
Businesses don’t grow by staying the same and fitting in. They grow when they stand for something, align around a set of core values, and deliver a service that is uniquely valuable because it has a personality. It has a vibe and a bit of mojo that attract customers because it stands apart from the sameness.
I wish I had learned this earlier in life, and I hope that you can learn from my mistake.
So here is the subtle shift:
Stop seeing your differences as liabilities to manage.
They are the source of your value if you accept them and make them shine.
The traits others keep trying to fix in you are usually the strengths we have that are doing the most work. We file them under flaws because they don’t blend in.
If you are too intense, you are also the person who won’t let a problem drift. When everyone else makes peace with a problem because they are too lazy to take the extra step, you step in to find a creative solution.
If you are too quiet, you are also the person who is actually listening. While others are waiting for their turn to talk, you are taking it all in, so when you finally do speak, people lean in, because you are saying the thing everyone else talked right past.
If you are too blunt, you are also the person who saves everyone time. While the room is busy being careful, you say the thing no one wanted to say, and suddenly the whole conversation has somewhere to go.
If you are too slow to decide, you are also the person who catches the expensive mistake before it happens. What looks like dragging your feet is often you refusing to be rushed into making a mistake.
I hope you can see the pattern in all of this. Whenever you hear others or yourself saying the word “too” you are seeing that pattern.
- Too intense
- Too quiet
- Too blunt
- Too slow
“Too” is the tell. It usually means a real strength is showing up undisguised, and the instinct is to sand it down until it’s smooth and easier for everyone else to be comfortable with. But that is the exact moment you trade your edge for being unremarkable.
The shift isn’t to become more. It’s to stop apologizing for who you already are and start aiming for it on purpose.
If you’re ready to stop playing office politics and lead as yourself, I wrote more about it here: how to drive change without a title.
