There is a very specific danger that comes with being good at your job.
People figure out that you're good at your job.
And then they give you more work.
You do that well, so they give you a little more.
Then someone leaves, and you pick up their work.
Then priorities change, and you pick up something else.
Then there's a new initiative.
A new project.
A new "quick thing."
A new responsibility that shouldn't take too much time.
And eventually you look around and realize you've somehow become an entire department wearing one pair of pants.
Hi. It's me.
I'm the department.
The Reward for Good Work Is Apparently More Work
My job used to be handled by three full-time people.
Not three people who did this plus seventeen other things.
Three full-time people whose job was to do this job.
Today?
My team consists of:
Me.
That's it.
I'd schedule a team-building event, but attendance would be pretty depressing.
And here's the really fun part: the workload didn't shrink when the people disappeared.
It grew.
A LOT.
My main responsibility now includes more than 165 active projects, and some of those projects have their own little baby projects hiding inside them like Russian nesting dolls from hell.
On top of that, I have multiple other duties that have been added to my plate.
I'm preparing for the recompete of a major contract.
I'm traveling for work again.
There are meetings.
Emails.
Deadlines.
Problems.
Emergencies.
Questions.
Follow-ups.
And the approximately 47 things I remember at 2:13 a.m. while staring at the ceiling.
My workload didn't double.
It didn't triple.
It feels like it multiplied by ten while my staffing went from three people to one.
Somewhere, a math teacher is crying.
"But You're Doing Great!"
I've asked for help.
More than once.
And I've been told there isn't anyone available to help me.
Which would almost be easier to accept if I didn't watch other areas receive additional support.
Someone managing one major responsibility can have two people helping them.
Meanwhile, I'm over here juggling 165+ projects, sub-projects, additional duties, travel, and a major contract recompete like I'm auditioning for Cirque du Soleil: Corporate Edition.
And when I say I'm struggling?
I hear:
"But you're doing great."
I know.
That's the problem.
I know I'm good at my job.
I'm not saying that arrogantly. I'm saying it because after enough years in your career, you're allowed to recognize your own abilities.
I know I'm capable.
I know I can figure things out.
I know that when something catches fire, I'm probably going to find the extinguisher.
But being capable of carrying an unreasonable workload doesn't make the workload reasonable.
And I think that's something we don't talk about enough.
Being Good at Your Job Can Hide the Fact That You're Drowning
When you're dependable, people depend on you.
When you solve problems, people bring you problems.
When you don't let things drop, people keep putting things in your hands.
And when you somehow keep pulling it off?
Everyone assumes you're fine.
That's the trap.
Because from the outside, everything still looks like it's working.
Projects are moving.
Emails are getting answered.
Meetings are happening.
Problems are being solved.
Deadlines are being chased.
So everyone looks at the results and thinks:
See? She's got it.
Meanwhile, inside my head:
WE DO NOT GOT IT.
At this point, saying I'm "keeping my head above water" feels generous.
I'm not swimming gracefully.
I'm not treading water.
I'm somewhere six inches under the surface holding a tiny straw above the water like:
Nope. Still breathing. Apparently we're continuing.
That's where I'm at.
Success Shouldn't Mean You Become Indestructible
I think a lot of high performers accidentally train people to believe they don't need help.
We don't mean to.
We just keep getting things done.
Something needs to happen?
Fine. I'll figure it out.
Someone dropped the ball?
Fine. I'll grab it.
We're short staffed?
Fine. I'll cover it.
Deadline moved?
Fine.
Emergency?
Fine.
Another responsibility?
Fine.
Another project?
Sure.
And every time we pull it off, we unintentionally create evidence that the impossible workload is actually possible.
Except nobody sees what it costs.
They don't see the work that follows you home mentally.
They don't see you thinking about deadlines while making dinner.
They don't see the mental checklist running while you're supposed to be watching TV.
They don't see you opening your laptop early because you're already behind before the day starts.
They don't see the exhaustion that comes from knowing there is literally no amount of productivity that will get you completely caught up.
Because there isn't a finish line anymore.
There's just more.
"You're Amazing" Is Not a Staffing Plan
Compliments are wonderful.
Recognition matters.
I absolutely appreciate hearing that I'm doing a great job.
But eventually, encouragement without resources starts feeling a little different.
Because:
"You're doing amazing!"
doesn't remove anything from my workload.
"We appreciate everything you do!"
doesn't answer 165 projects' worth of emails.
"I don't know how you do it!"
is actually starting to sound slightly threatening.
I DON'T KNOW EITHER, SUSAN.
THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING FOR HELP.
At some point, organizations have to recognize that their strongest employees aren't infinitely scalable resources.
You cannot keep adding weight because someone hasn't collapsed yet.
And This Isn't Just About Work
Honestly, I think moms understand this better than almost anyone.
Because we do the exact same thing at home.
We become the person who knows the school schedule.
The doctor appointments.
The birthday parties.
The grocery list.
Who needs new shoes.
Who has homework.
Where the missing Lego piece probably is.
Which dog needs medication.
What bill is due.
What's for dinner.
What permission slip hasn't been signed.
Then we go to work and become that person there too.
The reliable one.
The fixer.
The one who knows what's happening.
The one people call.
And eventually you're standing in the kitchen at 8:30 at night wondering why you're exhausted when technically you "didn't do anything" after work.
Except your brain has been running 97 browser tabs since 6 a.m., and somewhere in the distance one of them is playing music but you can't figure out which one.
I'm Still Proud of What I Can Do
That's the complicated part.
I'm proud of myself.
I'm proud that I can manage complicated things.
I'm proud people trust me.
I'm proud that I've built a reputation for getting things done.
I'm proud of the career I've built and the things I've accomplished.
I don't want to become less capable just so people stop giving me things.
But I also don't want my capability to become the justification for giving me an impossible workload.
Those two things can exist at the same time:
I am really damn good at what I do.
And...
This is too much for one person.
Saying the second doesn't cancel out the first.
It might actually be one of the healthiest things a high performer can finally admit.
So, Yes. I'm Still Breathing.
Barely.
Tiny straw sticking out of the water.
But breathing.
And maybe that's my sign that something has to change before the straw disappears too.
Because success shouldn't be measured by how much one person can endure before they finally break.
Being dependable shouldn't mean becoming everyone's unlimited resource.
And being good at your job shouldn't mean doing the jobs of three people simply because you've somehow managed to survive doing it so far.
So if you're another overachieving, problem-solving, "don't worry, I'll handle it" person who has accidentally become the entire damn department...
I see you.
Maybe neither of us needs to learn how to swim harder.
Maybe someone needs to stop throwing more weight into the pool.
Until then?
I'll be over here with my little straw.
Still breathing.
Mostly.
And probably answering an email.
0 comments