Failures are the stepping stones to success. Well, not all failures. Some of them drag you in to the abyss of desperation and sorrow and bury you deep, never to rise again.
After about a decade and a half into my career, I aspired for a transition into a leadership path, within my organization. I was a proven subject matter expert and a well established technical leader. Switching into a people leadership trajectory did not seem any difficult. It was only a natural transition and a frequently treaded path, traversed by my predecessors. Hence, optimistic of the outcome, I initiated a discussion with the decision makers, about my aspiration and the possibility of it materializing. The discussion was positive and my candidature for a leadership position was well received. I was told that I could expect an upward movement in my career graph, in the days to come.
I waited patiently and devotedly. The next cycle of promotions went by without a stir. My responsibilities at work increased significantly, the scope of work on the technical front kept rising and overflowing, like boiling milk. So, did my anxiety. For, there were no signs of my elevation. No talks and no actions. My peers got promoted and celebrated. Everyone around me seemed to be having it easy. I approached my boss and inquired about my future path. He told me that, he had proposed my name for a promotion, but it was vetoed by leaders above him. He alleged favoritism and foul play. Sensing that there had been confusion and communication gaps between layers of leaders, and that my manager was unable to resolve it, I knocked at the door of my skip level boss.
A senior, seasoned leader who was well respected across the organization, the skip level boss empathized with my state of affairs and assured me of his intervention. He told me that, I had great potential and caliber to be the next level leader. Relieved at this consolation, I went about my duties with rigor and reverence, as always. Weeks and months rolled by. I did have touchpoints with my boss on the promotion dream I was harboring. He gave me positive impetus to keep giving my best. Workload kept increasing multifold, and I was asked to transition some of my key responsibilities to a new joiner. I welcomed the new member, trained him well on all aspects of the job and set him on the path to success. Little did I know that, I was grooming my successor, who would replace me in the near future. Word went around that, this person had been hired with the promise of a managerial role, the one that I was persevering towards. I once again approached my manager with a worried expression. He told me that, he was also abreast of the rumors floating around and had reasons to believe they were true.
Upset at the new turn of events and after having waited for 1.5 years for the promise made by my leaders to materialize, I had a 1–1 chat with the skip level boss again. I asked him point blank, if there was any hope left for me in pursuing my dream. He listened patiently and told me that, it was indeed my direct boss who was against my nomination for the position and that he won’t be able to help if my name did not appear in the list of candidates that year. He added that, he looked upon me as a great talent and really wanted to see me stride to the next level.
The next appraisal cycle came and vanished, as I looked on with anguish and desperation. The team member whom I had groomed, stepped up the ladder. So, did other colleagues junior to me. These repeated rejections tormented me. Lack of transparency and direction of my future frustrated me. My efforts no longer mattered. My position as a subject matter expert lost its sheen. I felt downgraded and humiliated. I slipped into acute depression.
I notified my manager about my ill health and requested for a break. He agreed benevolently. I spent two weeks at home, nursing a broken mind and a bleeding heart. I did not feel better, but had to get back to work, as duty beckoned. I was too weak and dejected to consider opportunities outside my org. When I returned to work from the self imposed exile, I was summoned by the revered senior leader. He told me in many words that, he was upset with my “sudden absence”. He called it “unprofessional”. I did not contest his claims nor offer any explanation. I was broken, beyond repair.
Six more months passed by. A major change erupted in the organization, resulting in restructuring of various groups and reduction of workforce. My team, including my manager, was anxious about job security. I was the least worried, for I had nothing more to lose. My career was already in ruins. Losing my job would not make it any different. This sudden shift in gears and slowdown of work gave me the space and mind to explore external opportunities. I interviewed for positions outside, while my team members tried their luck with other business units within the organization. Rejections in interviews did not rattle me. I was prepared for the worst. After a few attempts, I secured a managerial position with a reputed organization. It felt special, as it was my pathway into the leadership galaxy. Yes, I had got a job of my dreams!
I resigned from the services of my current company. Before leaving, my boss told me that I was fortunate to get this job and that his own position was at stake. He asked me if I could recommend him for suitable opportunities in my new org. My skip level boss congratulated me and assured me that I would do well in the new role, as “I had great potential” and that he had great faith in my abilities. I thanked him and wished him and the company, the best. I closed the door behind me, as I walked out of his cabin.
I embraced the new opportunity with conviction. I worked hard and went on to become a successful leader both inside and outside my organization. I climbed the corporate ladder and spread my wings far and wide. Success smelt good and tasted sweet. But, the odor of rejection still haunts my inner senses. The wound remains deep and dark in the shades of my memory. Rejections are intensely shocking and painful. Worse are the rejections that are not conveyed and left in the open. They leave us scarred for a lifetime.
This story is inspired by the 100 day storytelling initiative by Your Story Bag. This is my story for day 13/100 of #2023TheStoriedWay
