The disruption of the pandemic made me realize how long I have performed like a behavioral and linguistic contortionist to fit into my surroundings. Being a neurodivergent HR person with a flair for the absurd and the dramatic, I operated like a corporate Minah bird, copying people’s language, dress, hobbies, and opinions. I was trained by my often-public embarrassment to conceal my natural reactions, number one of which was that we were all ensemble characters in a play called “We Do Business.”

I know I am not alone in this experience. However, as a consummate people pleaser, often ruled by dissonate observations and impulses, emulating the people in power was an extra full-time job. It was a job I learned I needed at a young age. I was “a lot” as a child. This fact was shared with me in subtle and not so subtle ways, though my family didn’t know I had ADHD because I was amongst the higher functioning kids in the house, so it didn’t occur to them to test me. They did send me to a neuropsychologist because I had semi-regular panic attacks. It turned out my main source of anxiety was that the California Aqueduct was going to dry up and we would all die. 

I also drew a lot of ire from my peers as a kid. I don’t remember what exactly I did to garner so much negative attention. Maybe it was a combination of being sensitive, needy, and obsessed with the cultural zeitgeist of the moment. When I got chased home by some former friends who pitched rocks at me, I retaliated by calling Ted Ziggenbush, the DJ at KOST 103 and dedicating “Cold Hearted Snake” by Paula Abdul live on air to punish my aggressors. 

Fast forward many years to being in my first job in corporate America. It was a job in a security software company that I somehow got, despite never having sent an email or “surfed” the internet during college. I was so afraid to admit that I had no idea what I was doing as the administrative assistant to the Legal Department, that I pretended I knew how to back up their computers on jazz drives (I did not). 

When the General Counsel’s computer crashed and I had to produce an empty jazz drive to the IT guy, I hung my head and asked if I was fired. He looked like Tom Hanks in “A League of Their Own” as he shakingly replied to me “Not yet”. I spent the next two hours crying silently in a vacant conference room. I didn’t ask for training in jazz drives as a result. I just prayed it wouldn’t happen again. 

Why did I feel I couldn’t ask for help? Why did I continue to make these kinds of self-destructive choices? I transferred miraculously to the HR department and pretended I knew how to reset a global conference call dial in number and pin, only to invite 50 HR professionals around the world to call a sex hotline. Thankfully everyone but my boss thought I was playing a joke (?!). She also chose not to fire me, yet. 

My willingness to risk being found out as incompetent rather than admitting I didn’t know something, combined with a culture that assumed people either showed up with skills to do the job, or could learn in a commonly designed manner, set me up for failure and stress, and lots of stories for future blogs. 

Over time I became a reasonably competent HR person, but I always felt I was on the brink of humiliation, discovery as a fraud and ultimate cosmic failure. I then surveyed every new environment I entered and observed, hawk like, the customs, language and postures of those who might out me. When I supported the sales team in the now huge software company I drank with the best of them, and I cleaned up their employment messes. 

When I supported the engineers, I stood in line for 2 hours to watch the latest Star Wars movies even though I thought the original three were the holy grail. When I worked for physicians, I acted like I thought their medical degrees translated into being savvy business owners until and after they gave me a seat at the table. In exchange I have been successful in large part over the decades, despite rarely finding comfort showing up intellectually or socially as my true self. 

What to make of this? So much privilege and luck contributed to avoiding outcomes that more marginalized people would have met. And at the same time, my gender and my very different learning style has certainly informed my experience. Plus, after 27 years pretending to espouse beliefs and customs that don’t always match my true values in exchange for belonging and paycheck, I get to work for myself. So many people don’t have that option.

I am curious what masks you have worn, what lengths you have gone to in exchange for participation in our capitalistic patriarchy? Feel free to drop me a line or we can chat over zoom if you want to find out more about what coaching can do for you!