Are You Faking It At Work?

To really advance, ditch the mask. #NoDisguises

About that old “fake-it-til-you-make-it” chestnut: no bueno.

Sure, powering through a meeting by pretending you’re not getting the flu may help you win a pitch. But faking the bigger stuff at work — pretending you can handle what you can’t, pretending something didn’t affect you when it did, pretending you agree when you don’t, worst of all, pretending you’re happy — these can really, really take their toll.

Just to give you an example. My time as a lawyer went something like this. Wake up, put on lawyer costume. Go to New York when I hate to travel, especially alone. Sit in a room full of boxes looking for a smoking gun until it gets cold and dark. Buy a green juice. Return to hotel. Assume fetal position. Cry. Never, ever complain. Oh, and then get this in my review: “Of all the junior litigators, Rachel is the most naturally suited to litigation.” Uh huh. Cry some more.

Once I took the big leap of quitting the law, an entire profession I’d trained for, and years later left a vertical I loved with leaders I personally care for, I became a lot more clear and vocal about who I am, what I want, what I do well, and what treatment I’m ok and not ok with. I stopped faking it. Honor Code was built around that idea, and it was the door to my being really happy in my career.

With this month at Honor Code focused on #NoDisguises, I wondered why it took me so damn long to be myself professionally, and so I asked an expert: Why do we fake it?

Maria Luisa Victoria is a clinical psychologist who often advises professionals at all levels. “I think people often fake it because they may be disconnected from their own experience or because they think that adapting to the situation, even when it does not fit, is what is expected of them or will make them a valuable employee,” she says.

Sound familiar? Many of us grow up with the “suck it up” mentality. You know, grab some sac, be a ballplayer, etc. Compound that with the fact that we don’t always realize what our true value is because it’s not necessarily recognized within our company. It may be that a business in fact doesn’t value that skill set — or it may be that they just aren’t aware of it.

Regarding the second part of that thought, I go back to when I was in PR. The agency had never employed anyone with a background or skill package quite like mine. Its leaders were smart and saw that I brought value to the table, but it was up to me to carve out my role. I started out as an account person — total misfit — and lobbied to be a writer and idea specialist. Neither were openings they’d ever had. By the time I left I was Creative Director (their first), and my work included creating a speaking panel for the agency, crafting RFP responses, conceiving campaigns, strategizing new coverage avenues, and crafting bylines. Every year I’d say, “This is where I think I can bring value. This is what I think the right title should be.” And they listened. (I’ll never forget that.)

If you’re not clear about who you are and what you want, you don’t give a workplace a chance to value what you naturally love and excel in. “Being authentic makes it more likely that employees will find a match between their strengths and interests and the tasks they engage in,” says Maria. “For example, pretending to be an extrovert when one is not makes it more likely that the person will be given tasks that require interacting with others.”

Then there’s the Sunday Scaries problem. When you get more and more detached from the role you’re playing at work, you become less and less seen, and the ground beneath you feels shaky. “Being inauthentic can lead to symptoms like anxiety and unhealthy behaviors,” Maria explains, “since the person’s underlying feelings and values may be overlooked in order to fit into the situation or work demand.”

You can start to feel really alone. And you can distance others who eventually see that something feels not quite right, that you’re not confident or not real. Says Maria, “It is harder to connect to someone who is inauthentic since, by definition, they are not forthcoming with who they really are — making it harder for people to collaborate with them effectively, and less likely that they will be leaders and influence colleagues.”

So what can you do about it? Apart from, say, going full on Tom Cruise Jerry Maguire manifesto up in the place, there are small, meaningful inroads you can start immeditely.

1. Take inventory. Make an honest list of all the things you like to do in your role and do well. And also make an honest list of all the things you don’t like to do, things that give you angst, and things you just don’t think you’re any good at.

2. Ask yourself whether the things you’re good at are valuable at your company. Financially valuable. If they are, you have leverage. They want you to keep doing them. Work from a realization that doing what you love and are good at has value.

3. Speak up. When given a project you dread, Maria suggests trying an honest statement like this one: “I know you really want me to do X, and that it’s important for our project. But I was thinking it would make sense for me to focus on Y, since I do my best work when Z.” Badass! Straightforward!

4. Use a #NoDisguises starter: Sometimes just starting a sentence by being honest about your fears can be helpful — and actually establish a bond that makes you more, not less valued and likable. Try “Just to be completely transparent, I’m going to take this on because I know it’s important, but this isn’t where I think my value lies.” Or, “I want to be totally honest, I worry a little about XX. It’s not my strongest suit. There are so many areas where I add more value.”

5. Outsource your fears. You can’t decide not to do the things you hate without a plan to get them done. Come up with solutions. Find out who wants to do those things. Find and cost freelance help. Ask to set a timeline for when these things can come off your list.

6. Write your own aspirational positioning statement. Imagine you’re a business, and write your positioning statement. The 3 elements are the for (who you do it for), the what (what exactly you do) and the why, not necessarily in that order. For example “I boost the bottom line for retail innovators by finding creative approaches to merchandising.” Use it to remind yourself where your focus and value lie, moving closer to doing exactly that with every move you make inside and outside the company where you are now.

7. Do one thing. Instead of dropping the mask in one big flameout moment, just do one thing every day to be more authentic. One moment of saying how you really feel (or even saying nothing) rather than automatically agreeing, for example. Just one thing, daily, will build some momentum. And the payback, even in the smallest true statement, is instant.

Person of Honor: Tom Weisend

The Director of Creative Strategy & Account Management, Philanthropy at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, in honor of #worldcomingoutday

We first met Tom at Rue La La where he helmed UX and became one of the most loved and respected leaders in the place. Not to mention a friend for life. He also happens to be our marriage role model (he’s been married to couturier Danny Faucher for about three decades). Anytime he’s willing to share a story, he has our ear. And we thought #worldcomingoutday and #NoDisguises month at Honor Code would be the perfect time to ask. You’re welcome.

Honor Code Creative: Will you tell us about your current role? Seems like you’re loving it.

Tom: I’m the Director of Creative Strategy for Dana-Farber Cancer Institute’s Division of Philanthropy. This encompasses work for the team that raises in excess of $300 million a year. My work is managing the team that creates all assets for major donors, the Jimmy Fund, and Annual and Planned Giving. I love the mission. I’ve never had that before. What we’re doing directly effects the groundbreaking work that doctors and researchers are undertaking at the Institute. That feeling renews itself every day.

HCC: What was your first creative job?

TW: I was a writer and editor for Adweek magazine in Boston. While it was a journalism job for a trade publication, it taught me how to tell stories and write to engage readers. I use that every day.

HCC: You live in the South End, one of the first neighborhoods to create a community of acceptance. Has it changed?

TW: We’ve been here since 1993. When we moved in, it was the tail end of the gay gentrification and before it became lousy with good restaurants and prices went haywire on real estate. I love it here, and have never lived any one place for so long. I think the most striking change in the South End is the absence of gay residents. Our tiny street was mostly gay people when we moved in. I can now count on two hands the number of gay families and people. Maybe it’s the prices, maybe it’s all the societal changes that make it more comfortable for gays to live outside their self-imposed ghettos, or maybe it’s a sense of adventure in striking out for other neighborhoods and towns.

HCC: Will you share your coming out story?

TW: I came out because I wanted to control the narrative. In the late ’70s, being gay was generally not ok, and people gossiped about you either like you were sick in the soul or you had an actual disease. I wanted to take control and turn that around to make it clear I was not only fine with it, but happy about it. That threw a lot of people off. I came out to my closest friends in my college apartment, which felt like I lost 25 pounds while riding a roller coaster. Their reaction was fabulous. Then I told my older sister. In a letter. That I mailed. With a stamp. I held my breath for almost a week until I heard from her. My pitch was, “I’m the exact same person you knew before you got this letter. Just you know something else about me now.” She bought it. I knew then I was destined to be in marketing.

I came out to my closest friends in my college apartment, which felt like I lost 25 pounds while riding a roller coaster.

HCC: What would you tell someone struggling with coming out today?

TW: That’s a big responsibility, everyone’s journey is their own and no one piece of advice is necessarily right for everyone. But I will say it’s really hard. Yes, it gets better, but it’s really hard. I have never looked back. I never regretted it. And I never thought about lying about myself once I staked that claim.

HCC: You are very well traveled both in your career and as part of the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus. Are there places you’ve encountered that feel more or less inclusive when it comes to sexuality?

TW: In 2005, I traveled to Eastern Europe with the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus. We sang at Gay Pride in Berlin for countless thousands of people. It was mind-blowing. Then we were headed to Prague, but we had a stop in Wroclaw, Poland, the third-largest city. We were told we were the first openly gay performing arts group ever in Poland. We got to Wroclaw, spread out in its 11th-century square, and returned to the hotel after dinner.

The next morning, we were told to stay close to the hotel and only travel in groups. When we returned to the hotel after lunch to go the rehearsal at the hall that was just a few block’s walk away, we were told that we’d be going by police-escorted bus. When we arrived, there was a large protest by the Catholic League of Families that tried to stop the show. They flat-out hated us for who we were. There were vile signs and angry people. We were taken into the hall by armed officers, where CNN Europe and a bank of other cameras awaited.

We rehearsed, but we had no idea if the concert would happen, if anyone would show up, if we were safe. We had dinner brought into the hall, changed into our tuxedos, and lined up to go on stage.

We rehearsed, but we had no idea if the concert would happen, if anyone would show up, if we were safe.

As we came through the doors, the ovation was thunderous. It was sold out. There were families, older couples who subscribed to the music season, and in the front row, two gay men with their child. In Poland. Ringing the entire hall were armed policemen. It was kind of like when the Von Trapp Family in The sound of Music sang at the festival when the Nazis were waiting to take Captain Von Trapp away. These were real police with real rifles.

We were floored by all of it. We sang our first song. For our next song, we’d learned Gaude Mater Polonia, the unofficial national anthem. It was intended as a surprise, so it wasn’t on the program. As we launched into it, the audience rose to its feet as we might for the Star Spangled Banner. As they stood, their seats retracted and made a light popping noise. We could see what was happening but our conductor, who had his back to them, thought shooting had begun. In a supreme show of professionalism, he didn’t even let the tempo drop. The rest of the concert was a blur, with several of our members breaking down on stage at the joy and intensity of emotion and much of the audience in tears as well.

Poland is still hostage to the religious right wing. I hope that we brought lightness and enlightenment to those that heard us. We were the lead story on CNN and on the front page of just about every newspaper in the country. One headline was translated for us as, “Music Conquers Hate.” It can. It does.

HCC: How do you feel being yourself affects a person’s ability to be creative?

Authenticity is the essence of creativity.

TW: I’d turn that around and say not being yourself blocks the ability to be creative. Authenticity is the essence of creativity. Stifling who you are stifles so many things: Personal relationships, inner growth, and expression which is the basis of creativity.

HCC: What do you love most about your life at this very moment?

TW: The freedom to say no. When you approach 60, you’re more in touch with yourself, you recognize that time is shorter and doing things you don’t want to do with people that aren’t important to you is a waste.