What do you do?

What do you do?

Nothing tests your confidence quite like walking into a room without a job title to hide behind.

I didn’t expect it to affect me, but it did.

For years, introductions have been easy.

Wife, mother, leader, coach, daughter, sister, full-time servant to the golden retriever.

Plus whatever job title I happened to be carrying at the time.

Titles are like currency. Shorthand that saves everyone from thinking too hard. Like becoming a parent and you trade your name to be ‘so-and-so’s mum.’ Handy, but not quite whole human.

It was odd, as I’ve never really chased titles or chosen jobs because of them. I’ve chosen what spoke to my values, my way of leading and with good humans.

I’ve had titles that sounded ‘less’ but were actually bigger, and ones that sound impressive but meant very little. Director. Head of. GM. MD. Vice President.

Unless you’re inside that business, most labels don’t tell you much anyway.

Sometimes they don’t tell you much even if you’re an insider. The work is almost always broader than the label.

Recently though I caught myself introducing myself as a ‘former MD.’

Not because I’m clinging to an identity, but because I hadn’t intentionally chosen how to introduce myself now. And that wee voice surfaced: ‘Everyone else in this room has a big title for who they are. Who are you now?’. It felt wrong using a title I don’t hold anymore. But ‘Coach’ didn’t feel big enough for the work I actually do. Author felt premature.

It surprised me.

Because who I am hasn’t changed.

How I work with people, support leaders, and create clarity out of complexity hasn’t changed.

But the shorthand used to define me has.

And I’ve fiddled with my LinkedIn identity more times than I’ll admit, trying to work out where I fit.

I know from conversations, this ‘what do I say I do?’ can show up whether you’re moving business, changing roles, a first time leader, or even the CEO.

It reminded me of high school, holding the ‘Deputy’ badge I’d been awarded instead of Head Girl. I remember feeling deflated and considered covering the deputy word with tip-ex. I didn’t, it would only have reinforced my solid nerd rep.

But I decided to behave like a Head anyway (likely to the annoyance of the real one!)

An early lesson that your purpose and behaviour aren’t defined by the badge you’re wearing. They’re defined by the identity you choose to lead with.

I wonder, what if we stop introducing as a title, and start introducing the human-being doing the work?

Titles are the outfit but identity is the person wearing it. We get to decide who shows up.

And if you’ve ever started a sentence with

‘I’m just a…’

Pause. Think. Who are you at your core?

How would your biggest sponsor introduce you?

I’m curious, if you weren’t allowed to use your job title, how would you introduce yourself?

But for now, I may try introducing myself as:

‘Hamish the dog’s personal assistant.’

Too long for a name badge, but excellent job satisfaction and unconditional wags.