Career ouroboros

When you first start your career you quickly realize that much of your work depends on execution. You learn something and you figure out how to do it. You get better, you find efficiencies.

For me, as a teenager, this meant honing my craft. I tinkered with graphic design, figured out how to use the tools of the trade, and became efficient at moving pixels around. This part is necessary to moving forward in a profession—understand what's possible, be curious, learn relentlessly. That can keep an eager person going for several years. It also helps to have an extreme interest and curiosity in the work, driven by a desire to see how all the pieces should fit together.

Looking back at that time, and at the young people around me who are coming into the work they might want to do for large periods of their lives, I'm realizing that much of my original motivation was less about building a career, and more about using tools to create interesting work, and finding happy people to benefit from that work.

I look back on those years with a lot of joy. Every project was brand new. For one of my first freelance gigs I landed a client for $400 to build a website. I drove all the way from Indiana to Georgia to meet with them, and spent scores of hours designing a logo, setting up a website, and helping to get everything in place. I didn't know what I was doing. But neither did they; and it was a great experience all around for both of us. I was able to learn so much about client interaction, negotiation, and putting the tools into practice.

I also remember, a few years later, being yelled at by another client over the phone, absolutely blasted over a communication mishap. I finally managed to work up a response, calmly telling them that we were done working together—their immediate shift in behavior, going from demeaning to ingratiating, taught me a lot about human behavior and the types of clients to attract and avoid.

So the first few years of my work were just figuring out tools, understanding how to work with people, and finding ways to improve and follow my natural interests.

Later, I had the chance to shift a bit further from purely executing the work to starting to understand why the work matters and how it all fits together.

I started tinkering with these concepts as I left my teen years—talking to business owners, hearing their problems, and figuring out how the tools I knew and solutions I could offer might support their needs. But, even at this point, I was less aware of the worries and reasons for why those owners were building, and more intent on finding whether I was able to accomplish the needs of the project in front of me.

This is where it's fine to hold out. You can stay here for a decade or a lifetime if you wish. You become proficient at accomplishing work, building projects, collaborating with the right people—you're really good in your domain and able to knock work out with ease.

But, if you're interested, there's more to the story. Now, this isn't about climbing some corporate career ladder. If you're wanting that I'm the wrong person to help. I've managed teams before and led organizations, but I found less joy in that than what I'm about to share. If you want to understand more about why things get built, who they're built for, and how that gets done, then consider stepping a bit more out of the daily tasks in front of you and asking questions about how it all fits together.

This is where becoming the best at your craft, understanding how it fits into the work people need, studying what benefits others and how you can help—all these things began to fit into someone who has become a professional in their trade. Then, you have the chance to share and help others—not because you're some wisened sage with all the answers, but because you do have experience and a few scars along the way that could be worth offering. I've also found, as I've had opportunity to share with others—that they teach me. I learn so much from spending time talking to designers that are newer on their journey. The tools they're trying, the way they're approaching things—all fodder for helping me to improve my own skills.