It Took Me 25+ Years To Learn What I’m About To Tell You In 26 Minutes

I could not understand why, once I left college and began hunting for my first job, doors kept closing on me. And even when I finally landed a position, promotions never followed. I was making a huge error without realizing it. That’s a very common pattern for people who grew up with neglect or abuse — something almost nobody tells you. I had intelligence and a strong work ethic, and I wanted to advance. Yet it took me a quarter century of being passed over, undercompensated, and unhappy at work before I learned what actually matters on the job if you want to be noticed and moved up into work you enjoy, where you’re valued and paid fairly. Most entry-level positions aren’t like that, but once you know this lesson you can accelerate your progress at any point in your life.
For about ten years I stayed in one miserable office job — a mix of consulting stints and employment — and I regret that I stuck it out. I was operating under the belief that if I stayed long enough, my worth would become obvious and a promotion would follow. I remember picturing myself in a higher-level role at that company, year after year. Almost every day people would go out to lunch and the administrative staff would be left behind. By then I was in my late 30s and already had a master’s degree, and yet I was never invited. It was awkward and humiliating; they’d return talking about how wonderful the restaurant had been, while I felt like Cinderella abandoned at the house.
One year I published a book and the organization convened a conference on the very topic I had written about. I wasn’t invited. My book did well, but they told me to stay home and later to transcribe the conference recordings, while I, separately, was traveling to promote the book around the country. I remember simmering with resentment — why weren’t they seeing me? Why did they exclude me? Was someone whispering something about me? I was demotivated but I didn’t leave. Secretly, I was always searching for other opportunities online. I was angry and baffled about being overlooked. I thought my boss was cruel for promoting someone else instead of me. Even when a consultant came in and said I should have gotten the promotion, my boss dismissed it, laughing it off, and I was left feeling humiliated.
That experience taught me the term “crapfitting” — a word I use to describe how people who survived trauma learn to adapt themselves to awful circumstances or to people who mistreat them. It’s a kind of learned survival skill: “I can handle this; I’ll prove I’m worthy and eventually they’ll treat me fairly.” We become dedicated to trying to turn a bad situation into a good one rather than recognizing when to leave and pursue a better fit. I need a better word for the opposite — a true right fit.
Eventually I received an external offer that paid 50% more. It was during the dot-com boom, so there were high-paying, fast-moving roles with fuzzy job descriptions. That significant raise felt like an escape. When I told my boss about the offer and the salary, it was partly a statement: look, other people think I’m worth this. He was surprised and visibly stung. I was simmering and not particularly direct, but I wanted him to know he’d undervalued me for years.
I took the job, but the truth was the new position was awful — unpredictable, hostile, and not at all enjoyable. The company quickly collapsed; after about five months I was back on the market. There was still some prestige in that I had left for a much larger salary, and I learned about the workings of a startup even if I had a negative experience. At the time I was newly separated, a mother to a toddler, and I simply couldn’t afford even a short break from earning an income. Many of you are in that precarious week-to-week, month-to-month situation where making a bold move feels impossible.
When the startup folded, I did something that might surprise you: I asked for my old job back. I was vulnerable financially, but I set conditions. I came back as a temporary, hourly consultant instead of a salaried employee, and I demanded twice the pay I used to receive. He was shocked, but he said yes. I probably stood on shaky ground, but I resolved to make that decision pay off by doing outstanding work and making my boss look good. That stance was a dramatic shift from the resentful, passive mindset I had previously adopted. As a consultant, however, the arrangement sharpened my focus on the one thing that now mattered most: being paid enough to support my son and me.
Transitioning back changed how he perceived me: I had earned more elsewhere, I returned with better clothes and hair, and I carried myself with confidence while stating my rate. He reluctantly agreed, and I was on high alert to deliver. And the deliverables were everything. Being a consultant gave me leverage: my time was billable, temporary, and I could take on other clients. I could say, “I’m booked this month, but I can fit you in for this project later.” Suddenly I had negotiating power.
What made the difference was adopting a consultant’s mindset. Instead of stewing about unfairness or spending the day half-heartedly browsing job listings, I committed to producing work that was clear, immediately useful, and of exceptional quality. I didn’t wait to be told what to do; I anticipated needs and executed without prompting. Whether you are an employee, a contractor, or in a precarious, temporary role, adopting the perspective of a consultant changes everything. Treat your boss as a client: you are there to solve a problem and make your client successful. You advance when you make their life easier. Employers rehire or promote people who remove friction and make them look capable.
Now that I run teams myself, this is obvious: help me complete tasks so I don’t have to do as much. Make the work easier and better than I could have done myself, and I’ll be grateful and give you a great role. That is the difference between a consultant mindset and what I call an employee mindset. Many employees already embody this — the distinction I’m emphasizing is framing your contribution as making your supervisor successful, not just seeking recognition.
I want to add a brief aside for anyone who feels the system is forever stacked against them and has become deeply embittered. If you believe you’re permanently stuck, it’s hard for advice to help. I grew up on welfare, became a single mom, piled up debt, and lost a house. It took small, consecutive steps to climb out. We all have different assets and gaps: I didn’t always know how to act in middle-class environments or what to wear to an office, but people recognized my intelligence in the way I spoke. Others might be brilliant but struggle to project competence. Be honest about where you need to grow, and work at those things.
When I was an employee, I didn’t grasp this principle: your role includes making your boss successful. I waited for recognition, resented its absence, and retreated behind anger. As a consultant I stopped doing that — when I disliked a client, I simply declined future work without drama. I reclaimed ownership of my time and career. It wasn’t easy: the early years of self-employment were financially tight and disordered. I was often flustered, messy, and running on the edge. But gradually I built a sustainable life where I controlled where my work went. I shudder to think how my life would have turned out if I’d stayed salaried at the old income level. Over time, my career continued to advance and I claimed ownership over my life, time, and work.
Imagine if, on every job, you acted as if you were a consultant. You’d accept assignments and handle them in a way that made your employer want to elevate you — not by sycophancy, but by solving problems, anticipating needs, and asking the right questions. Bosses can sense animosity even when you think you’re hiding it; they respond more positively to people who feel safe, competent, and supportive. If you’re in a truly abusive or exploitative situation, by all means get out. But so many of us stay in difficult jobs because childhood damage taught us to freeze and feel powerless. We transpose old parent-child dynamics onto bosses and coworkers, unconsciously hoping for the validation we lacked. That history can make workplace conflicts feel existential — like abandonment — and makes change terrifying.
You are not required to win your boss’s approval to move on. I used to be trapped by the hope that if I proved myself enough they’d finally see my value. I didn’t know then about complex PTSD, but I did bring trauma symptoms into my work: emotional dysregulation, self-sabotage, and the frantic search for external validation. Employers had their reasons for not promoting me — I probably read as emotionally bumpy, dramatic, or unstable, and they preferred someone who appeared steadier. That might have been my part in the dynamic. If you’ve ever wondered why you didn’t succeed at something, ask yourself honestly whether any of your own behaviors played a role.
There are many trauma-driven behaviors that interfere with advancement — things I’ll address in depth soon — and healing one aspect of trauma usually requires progress across many areas of life. Recovery is a patchwork: make a little progress with money, use your time better, develop friendships, and you’ll gain the support to step out of roles that don’t fit. As you build social support, it becomes easier to release people who resist your positive changes. Don’t make the mistake of trying to win the approval of those who were hard on you; that reflex is common for people raised without validation. Often those painful people simply don’t belong in your life as friends, and they certainly don’t belong as your bosses. Find the inner strength to let go of old hurtful patterns. Even if it feels like a leap of faith and you lose some acquaintances temporarily, create space for healthier relationships to enter your life.
When you concentrate on the problems you can change and take practical steps, you will inevitably make progress. I’ve got another video queued up that I think you’ll enjoy. I’ll see you soon.