In praise of the ordinary: What we miss when we’re looking for big wins

Several years ago, I took my kids to Yellowstone National Park. We had many adventures, including a camping trip in the backcountry. After trekking to our car in a hailstorm, we were wet, muddy, and exhausted but still had a long drive to reach our lodging for the night. We’d seen abundant wildlife in the previous week, and I asked the kids whether I should wake them for animals by the side of the road. My son, eyes already closing, quipped, “Not for just another elk. But if there’s a T-Rex or something.”

T-Rex, indeed.

A recent conversation with a colleague brought that trip to mind and has me thinking about how we decide what’s worthy of attention. She mentioned that she hadn’t contributed much to the world in the previous year. “Everything seems so small,” she said. But as we talked a bit longer, it became apparent that she’d made highly valuable contributions in her work and life. Her accomplishments just weren’t T-Rexes, and therefore she hadn’t noticed them.

T-Rex accomplishments are those big, highly visible projects that everyone knows about, like designing a new product, writing a book, earning a degree, or even planning a wedding. If you’re tussling with a T-Rex, you’re likely spending a lot of time working on and talking about it, possibly spreading the word far and wide on social media. People likely ask about your progress on a T-Rex project and congratulate you once it’s complete. Personally, I’ve faced off with a number of T-Rexes, which I have indeed spent a lot of time working on and talking and posting about. And I’ve often been asked about my progress on these projects and congratulated when I completed them. I can attest that this kind of work can be highly engaging and rewarding, and once it’s finally done, it’s clear what you’ve accomplished. Sounds great, right?

Sure, but here’s the thing, T-Rexes are actually quite rare. ;-) Many people may never have such highly visible opportunities.

More common is impactful work that’s a bit lower profile. Like the elk of Yellowstone, this work might get some attention, at least at the beginning. People may stop and appreciate it—possibly causing a traffic jam—and maybe even exclaim over how great it is. I sometimes get a chance to run with the elks myself—this very blog is one example of that. This kind of contribution can be exciting but may hold attention for only so long. Sooner or later, it might become “just another elk.”

Then there are those parts of our organizations, those roles on our teams, and those portions of our days where even an elk sighting is rare. Much of the work many of us do is perhaps best represented by the chipmunk. It’s everyday kind of stuff, and while it might be necessary to keep the ecosystems of our work and life in sync, it can go relatively unnoticed and often unappreciated. Much of what’s on my own daily to-do list looks like a lot of chipmunks scurrying around, and I can get to the end of a day, a week, or even a year feeling like I haven’t accomplished much of anything. I think that’s what my colleague was experiencing when she said she hadn’t contributed much to the world in the past year. Those on-the-ground contributions can easily go unseen, especially when people are gazing skyward in hopes of spotting a giant dinosaur.

Several years ago, we conducted a Deloitte Greenhouse study asking 16,000 professionals from 4,000 organizations around the world what they most want to be recognized for. Forty percent of them chose success. I’m thinking those might be the people who feel they have more T-Rex and elk opportunities. (This group also had a disproportionate number of Pioneers and Drivers, leaders, and men.) The other 60% most wanted to be recognized for effort, expertise, or living their organization’s values. I suspect these folks spend more of their time on work that feels like herding chipmunks.

I think it’s fair to say we all want to make valuable contributions and be appreciated for them. But we may need to shift our sightlines and attention to recognize the importance of work that doesn’t have a flashing congratulations sign at the finish or even an endpoint at all. Work that is just one part of a greater whole or that helps support those who ultimately claim the big wins. Work that helps connect people and enhance collaboration. Work that keeps the trains running on time or quietly prevents failures large and small. Work that we notice only when something goes wrong.

If you’re ever feeling like your own contributions don’t make a difference, take a moment to acknowledge the value of your accomplishments, particularly the chipmunk kind. Consider the impact your work has on others—what does it allow them to accomplish, or how does it make their lives better? Who is succeeding at work or at home, at least in part because of what you do to support them? Quantify things if you can—how many emails did you answer last week and how many people were able to make progress on their work because you responded promptly? Reflect on what the implications would be if you didn’t do your work—what else might not move forward or be accomplished at all? Write yourself a thank-you letter and lay it all out, then go back and read it whenever you need a boost.

If you want those around you to feel cherished—and I hope you do—it’s also important to recognize the value of their work that’s a bit less visible. Take notice. Get curious about what tasks take up their time. Cheer them on. And say thank you. Our research revealed that a simple thank-you is how most people want to be recognized for their day-to-day tasks. Not everyone needs or wants the spotlight—our research found that Guardians and Integrators especially tend to want less public forms of recognition. But those of us who occasionally find ourselves standing in that brightness, perhaps posing next to a T-Rex, should shade our eyes and look out for those whose contributions helped get us there.

As for me, I want to thank all the members of the Business Chemistry team, present and past. You wouldn’t believe the number of chipmunks they’re wrangling behind the scenes here—enough to collectively outweigh any T-Rex. Without their day-to-day work, which others don’t always see, Business Chemistry would not exist, and I wouldn’t have all the opportunities I have. My most enthusiastic gratitude goes out to each of you!