“Wise men don’t need advice. Fools won’t take it.”
Benjamin Franklin
In our pursuit of professional success, we often assume that our vision for our career paths is foolproof. Armed with personal goals and a self-determined roadmap, we strive to navigate through our careers with confidence. However, this confidence, rooted in self-belief, sometimes blinds us to the value of external insights. Our personal mirror that might enable us to discover our aspirational blind spots is sometimes unclear, obscuring our view. While it is comforting to think we know what’s best for ourselves, there are many instances where this might not be the case. In fact, others often perceive aspects of our potential and the challenges ahead with greater clarity than we can ourselves.
I serve as a case in point. Stationed in Germany in the late 1980s at the height of the Cold War, my Army career was shaping up nicely. As a captain with nine years’ service, I’d been selected ahead of my peers for promotion to the rank of major, was stationed in an elite unit, the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, guarding Freedom’s Frontier in then West Germany against a potential Soviet Army attack, and I was doing what I loved most—leading soldiers, hands on, every day. As an armored cavalry squadron operations officer, I was directly responsible for the operations, plans, and training of a 700-troop unit, maintained at a high state of readiness given the Soviet threat lurking just kilometers to our east. I was in stride, so to speak, in my profession and loving it.
Then I was informed in the summer of 1989 that I would be moving to the regimental (higher) headquarters to serve as adjutant to the regimental commander for my last year of duty in Germany before moving on to advanced schooling. The duties of adjutant, while important, were largely administrative and involved mostly moving paperwork, scheduling, personnel management, protocol, and anything else the regimental commander needed me to do. An important but oftentimes thankless job. Well, I was not thrilled to be moved out of my comfort zone, immersed in duties I relished, to assume these new duties. I saluted smartly and followed orders, of course, but my heart wasn’t in it.
Long story short, I almost got relieved from the job after a few months. My lack of enthusiasm was apparently evident. I had failed to adapt upwards to how the regimental commander did business, thinking that my way of doing my job was sufficient. My immediate boss, in between the regimental commander and me, saved me. He sat me down and articulated for me where I was falling short and what I needed to do to turn things around. Critically, I didn’t realize that the position I was moved into was a gift.
The regimental commander, Colonel John Abrams, had moved me up to work for him to educate me. He was one of the top colonels in the Army, a sure future general officer (he retired as a four-star), and my time in the Army to that point had been at the lowest tactical levels, where I liked to be, where I was comfortable. Thinking on a bigger, more operational and strategic scale, was not something I’d had to do too much of at that point, and that’s why I was moved, to broaden my horizon, to expose me to issues that would help me further on in my career. But I didn’t see that. I was blind to it. Thankfully, I was pulled out of my nose-dive and set straight.
Self-knowledge is a critical asset, but it is inherently limited. Our understanding of ourselves—our strengths, weaknesses, and potential—is often clouded by biases and emotional investments. For instance, a talented young programmer might see their future strictly in coding, potentially overlooking an aptitude for project management that could lead to more fulfilling career advancements. This tunnel vision can limit professional growth, a limitation subtly observed by mentors or colleagues who might guide us toward broader opportunities.
External insights play a crucial role in challenging our career narratives. Consider the rapid evolution of industries like technology and media. Professionals in these fields might cling to skills that are becoming obsolete, while mentors and industry veterans might push them towards emerging tools and roles. The story of Kodak employees, who, deeply ingrained in traditional film photography, were reluctant to pivot to digital, serves as a stark reminder of how external pressures can signal necessary shifts that are not immediately obvious to all involved. As another example, which enterprises can best and most quickly leverage emerging generative AI capabilities will be fascinating to watch over the next few years.
Admitting that we do not have all the answers opens the door to invaluable guidance. Being vulnerable in a professional context does not mean displaying weakness, but rather welcoming a diversity of insights and admitting the gaps in our knowledge. This vulnerability can be transformative. For example, a mid-level marketing executive might resist transitioning to a data-driven marketing approach—a standard in today’s retail sector—due to unfamiliarity and fear of failure. However, openness to training and mentorship can redefine their career trajectory, proving that vulnerability can lead to empowerment and growth.
Resistance to external advice often stems from a deep-seated fear of losing control over one’s career path or from past negative experiences where advice seemed to derail personal goals. However, this resistance can be mitigated by selectively incorporating advice that aligns well with one’s core values and long-term objectives. The balance between being open to guidance and maintaining autonomy is delicate but essential. The acceptance of strategic advice during the 2008 financial crisis, for instance, helped many professionals in finance navigate through tumultuous times more smoothly than those who chose to ignore the signs and expertise offered by others.
While self-guidance is essential, it is equally important to recognize when to let others in and listen to their perspectives. Our careers are not just shaped by our actions but also by the collective wisdom and experiences of those around us. By embracing vulnerability and considering external advice, we can avoid potential pitfalls and uncover opportunities that we might not have envisioned on our own. This balanced approach not only enriches our professional lives but also contributes to a more dynamic and supportive work environment.
In acknowledging that we might not always know what's best for ourselves, we open ourselves up to a broader, more diverse set of possibilities for personal and professional growth.