With each passing year, there seems to be more mounting pressure to prove to others just how happy or fulfilled you are with your life choices.
You joined a gym last January? (How long did that last?) You moved to a big city for more opportunities? (List them.) You’ve been working at the same job or field for more than 10 years? (When can we expect to hear about a promotion?)
That last talking point might be the hardest to avoid. “How’s work” is the most typical, safe and interesting of conversation starters when catching up with friends, old and new.
But sometimes — depending on your audience — it may feel that if your answer isn’t “I’m a manager” or “I’m a director of this,” people might assume you aren’t hardworking or dedicated, or that your current ambitions don’t measure up to your full potential.
As a middle child who grew tired of trying to get attention at home, I roll my eyes at that mentality. I’ve never longed for the day where I was presented with the title of “leader” in order to make me feel like I am the best, or to feel recognized and valued in an organization.
Depending on where you see yourself this year, though, here’s why I think being the best you can in a lower-profile, supporting role can still be fulfilling.
The benefits of playing second fiddle
In one of my favorite songs, “G.U.Y.,” Lady Gaga sings: “I don’t need to be on top to know I’m worth it.” Those are words I’ve lived by for most of my life. Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t like working hard. I am who I am today because of my mother and music.
During my first week of high school marching band camp, I was very tan, full of blisters and could barely walk with my sore feet.
After a full day of practice in the 100-degree Texas summer, I was home in bed with my legs propped up against the wall and told my mom, “I think I’m going to quit band.” She answered with a, “No, you’re not,” and left the room.
So, I didn’t.
I eventually became first chair. I have a music degree now, and I’m proud to say I was voted Most Valuable Player of my college’s marching band, where I also reached second chair in the top concert band.
I was a marvel, from whiny quitter to accomplished winner. But I was also a source of frustration to my teachers. I was a top student, with no interest in the title of “section leader.” I wanted to work on myself, not others.
I’ve observed leaders as first and second chair. This is what I’ve learned, and can be applied outside of music:
First, there are certain things that make a good leader, and being an expert in an area can help, but that’s not what makes someone great.
I loved leading a 30-plus band in a solo, but I wouldn’t have had the same passion and effort if I was made responsible for a group of people to be on top of their music. Give someone else a chance to prove themselves as a leader.
The biggest lesson I learned as second chair in a competitive environment is that someone will eventually leave and move on. If first chair is really that good, they will eventually graduate, get a promotion or get a higher paying job. Then, you’ll be the one people will look for to save the day.
Until that day comes, play your supporting role as best you can.
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