#183 – Why won’t my Ego let go of that bone?

For the Ego, winning isn’t enough. It has to do it with flying colors and undeniable pride and merit.

Two weeks ago, during a sales-team training call, I learned I’d been the quarter’s top performer in my coffee-machine sales job, beating the runner-up by 33 sales. I was surprised but also kinda, of course…, my mental right hand dusting the left shoulder of my imaginary blazer.

The manager congratulated me and her promise to send me a little something by mail made me excited and proud. Unique.

Next came the key part of the call: mystery shopper results. The company sends people posing as regular shoppers who’re really there to rate our performance. These “mystery shoppers” conduct a thorough evaluation following a specific questionnaire. Only scores north of 80% are a pass – but my Ego wouldn’t accept less than 98%, because someone else with that score a few months back was made an example of excellent work.

The first two reports came in: 96% and 92%. The second advisor was disappointed. Mine followed: 84%.

I wasn’t disappointed – I was ashamed. My smile froze and I took an eager-beaver, concentrated stance, taking notes and nodding.

Nothing to worry about, the manager said: the report specified the area needing improvement which, in her words, was “easy to fix.” I’d get the full report to get the full picture.

When I finally got it the day before yesterday, I went directly to the numbers in red. I swallowed. Had I really done and said that? On the final page, a picture of the “area assessed” explained everything: they hadn’t reviewed me, but the brand’s boutique, located on a different floor.

I breathed. 

I emailed my supervisor: he needed to tell the manager that it wasn’t me who’d been assessed.

A day later, when he hadn’t replied but emailed me about something else, I asked him, aiming to sound casual: had he heard anything about the mystery shopper report? He hadn’t but “don’t worry,” he wrote, “you would’ve done wonderfully!”

Then I noticed something else in the report that proved it wasn’t me. I was about to, once again, email my supervisor when I woke up from the trance.

What was I doing? Insisting, insisting, like a dog with a bone. For what? To prove that I wasn’t that mediocre – a lowly 84%? Who in me was making me behave that way?

You guessed it: the Ghost of Need to Prove (one of the Ego’s cronies).

This time I smiled and closed the company’s email app.

When has letting go of the need to prove has brought you peace?

Love,

Carolina