Average

Average

I think being average is under-rated. Or maybe it’s just that greatness is greatly overrated. This is a perspective that has grown over time, with a few key events that shaped my thoughts on this.

Years ago, I served as assistant city manager of a few suburban cities outside of Seattle.  This was a very demanding job, and my sights were, on and off, set on becoming city manager. When I was in the field, the average tenure for a city manager was about 6 years, and at a regional gathering of managers, there was a long discussion about what to do to help out peers who were “in transition”.  Generally, getting fired is not something good city managers can avoid, so you plan for it and manage.  Was I really pursuing a career with a 6 year life-span?  And once you leave that world, you normally move out of the area.  Was I really pursuing a career that required I move that frequently, and at someone else’s bidding? 

I decided that I didn’t really want to be number one.  Although assistants can get swept up in tumultuous times, it’s less frequent. I actively decided then, I didn’t want to climb the career ladder any further.  I was actually quite happy with the job I had, despite all indications and social pressures to climb. 

At this time my kids were little, and I was trying to balance day-care hours, dinner, council meetings, and weekend work commitments.  Sometimes I missed a meal at home, and sometimes I was unavailable for an after hours work meeting.  I was balancing, or at least trying to. Mostly, I felt like work won out, to the detriment of my family, although in hind sight I don’t think they were permanently damaged.  Right about then, I had a supervisor who chastised me, and tried to explain that I had a poor sense of balance. I agreed with him, until I realized he thought the balance was tipped too far towards family, and I thought it was tipped too far towards work.  It sounded so absurd, that anyone could think I was spending too much time with family. I decided I didn’t need to spend that much time at work, and if pay raises, and advancement were dependent on that, I guess that would pass me by.

Soon after that, I left local government and worked with a big non-profit. I was invited to sit on a panel of career women, talking to at-risk girls in junior high.  There was a prominent doctor, a woman who worked at a major philanthropy foundation, and a few other pedigreed people – and me.  I felt out of sorts and out of my league.  The questions came about how we started in our fields, what we valued, what we sought.  And then the question where I showed my true colors. What career advice would you offer these young ladies?  The answers before I spoke were what you’d expect.  Work hard, network, stay focused.  Not me.  I urged them to strive to be average.  I said that we all only have so much capacity, brain power, time, energy. If you give it all to your career, you don’t have much for family, friends or yourself. I could feel the stares from the other panelists. By that time, I’d already said it, and couldn’t take it back, so I did my best finish with a smile. I figured I’d never be invited back.  Much to my surprise, the surgeon came up to me afterwards, and thanked me for my comments, and said that she’d wished she’d gotten that advice earlier. 

Now, with something less than 10 years left to work, I can honestly say I’m grateful for this average strategy.  Sometimes I excel. Sometimes I’m average.  That’s ok with me.  Because it’s all about choices, and I choose to leave enough in my tank to deal with family and friends with some left over for me.  One downside is that sometimes I don’t do an excellent job and someone notices. It’s never comfortable when that happens, but I would make that choice again. Another downside is that I have friends and peers who’ve gotten much farther ahead professionally than I have. I wish them well and genuine happiness.  And I’m glad I’ve made the choices I have, even if that means I come in second, or third, or don’t even place. 

So, I’d say aim to be average. 

What do you say?