The Paradox of Recognition

I don't like winning awards or receiving recognition. I know why, but I've never taken the time to share these details with everyone.

For the longest time, I felt overlooked. I've always been naturally supportive and inclusive of others, frequently offering assistance or guidance, even as a kid, while celebrating their successes. Still, in the back of my head, I was hopeful to receive my own moment of recognition.

In baseball, I had the best batting average on my team by a wide margin but wasn't selected for the all-star game. Maybe it was because I didn't advocate for myself enough. I was an excellent tennis player for my age, often beating two friends at once, but I was rarely selected as a top player in school. Perhaps I should have been more flashy.

If I entered competitions in grade school, I usually did well but never won. I wasn't unpopular; I was just always overlooked. Many others have experienced this same scenario, but I used it as motivation.

The Early Career Years

During my college days, I was one of the top-performing students in my radio broadcasting program but received no accolades. Despite this, I was one of the first to receive full-time employment after graduating. When I excelled at my radio broadcasting job, I was promoted three times in less than three years, but it was never mentioned to staff in an email. It just sort of happened. Even when I became the youngest morning show host at 24, I expected at least some sort of staff announcement. Nothing. I wasn't bitter or angry, just hurt.

The Turning Point

After I departed from radio broadcasting, I returned to school for Sales & Marketing and became popular among my peers. While completing my second diploma, I received a job from the college in Admissions, starting part-time before transitioning to full-time upon graduating.

When I received an offer to work for an upstart technology company, I felt in over my head but quickly became a knowledgeable resource well-respected by my peers, customers and partners. In 2016, my peers selected me as “The Hardest Working Employee." Finally, I started feeling gratified and proud of myself.

The Ups and Downs

But then, momentum swhifted when I left for a new opportunity. I became what you would consider “a solid hand with a great personality." I lost the confidence I had gained at my previous technology company. For a few years, I felt I was professionally killing time in the marketing agency world. Despite my efforts and commitment to steadily improve, I wasn't really going anywhere.

A friend and ex-colleague suggested I apply to his company, which was seeking a Corporate Trainer. Having worked with me at that same technology company, he held my work as Product Specialist Lead in high regard, which was humbling.

Once I received this opportunity, I made a significant impact within my first 12 months, which was appreciated by management and even resulted in a slight raise. Unfortunately, COVID hit and everyone got lost in the shuffle, leading me to resign and return to the realm I had been missing.

The Recognition Paradox

At my second startup technology company, I quickly became one of the top and most respected performers. I took on numerous responsibilities, worked long hours, and genuinely began to produce what could be considered the best work of my career.

My confidence returned, and I was voted “Employee of the Month" several times. The second time, I even won a cash prize, which I publicly offered to donate and double to a charity of my choosing. A few colleagues even matched my donation. I believe in giving back for all the proper seasons and was thrilled that others contributed.

But it got weird. As I received promotions and won awards, I felt genuine pride from some peers but resentment from others. Despite performing well in other positions, I almost felt like I went from the underdog to the golden child, which was foreign territory for me.

If I received any recognition, it felt awkward. It was clear that few people cared, but I also stopped caring about obtaining it. I figured maybe my time was up, and I focused more on lifting up others and highlighting their accomplishments, which I had always done but placed more of an emphasis on. I've never been a jealous or envious person, so this was a more natural fit. I was already viewed as a mentor to many and a direct manager to several individuals.

The Present Day

Just today, I was recognized in a company-wide event as one of three Customer Centricity Impact Award Recipients during our Customer Day in front of hundreds of peers. Very lovely things were said about me, which was humbling. Sure, I work hard, produce results, and still bring passion to my job, but this felt unexpected.

Then I thought maybe someone would say something. I looked in the chat as the two other recipients were showered with praise, but nothing for me. In Slack, I received just two messages. One was from a colleague who attended the meeting, who is also a genuine friend of mine, and another was from someone I've spoken with only once.

Still, it was very nice that they reached out to me, and I decided to focus on that instead.

The Resolution

It dawned on me just how much I dislike winning awards or receiving recognition because, outside of a few select experiences, it always ends up being underwhelming or disappointing. I'm not fueled by attention, nor do I expect a parade in my honour, but there it was again: complete indifference.

This also served as an important reminder to keep focusing on delivering my best for all the right reasons. I do this out of personal pride but also because my colleagues and customers deserve my best.

Maybe it's this just the new normal of working remotely, or perhaps others don't celebrate successes the way I do.

I look at the bright side. It means I need to continue focusing on being an advocate, mentor, hype person, and celebrator for others because I genuinely don't want anyone to experience indifference. And candidly, seeing others succeed while supporting them throughout their journey is all the reward I'll ever need.