Ordinary

"Ordinary" has become a dirty word in our hyper-competitive professional landscape. The notion that you or your team might be "average" or "unexceptional" feels less like a description and more like a targeted insult. We are conditioned to crave the spotlight, striving to be special, better, and brighter than the rest. Having just wrapped up a semester teaching first-year university students, I’ve seen this anxiety firsthand; so many are desperate to stand out from the crowd. Yet, as I reflect on this relentless pressure to be unique, I’ve come to a counter-intuitive conclusion: the secret to true impact actually lies in embracing the ordinary.

When I look back and consider when I was leading with impact I was being ordinary. I was able to do what was expected, I was consistent, I was stable, and I was unexceptional. When I consider those moments when I was ineffective as a leader, it was because I created uncertainty, I was not reliable, and I was focused on being individually exceptional. I danced between these two states frequently, hopefully landing more often than not on the side or ordinary. My personality made this struggle harder than it needed to be. I love chaos, I love to create, I like new experiences, I want personal success, I don’t like details, I abhor routine, and I enjoy stability. These traits have many built in contradictions. A former business partner of mine told me once that I was a reluctant entrepreneur. At the time I was a bit insulted by the comment, not sure why I was insulted but knowing it was true. I now consider his comment as a core competence of my leadership.

I am a reluctant entrepreneur. I love the innovation and accountability associated with entrepreneurship but I want to be very connected with other people to solve problems. I work best from supporting the challenges and ideas that others create. I work best in creating spaces for others to be successful. I like the stability that organizations bring while simultaneously fighting against the constraints of organizational bureaucracy. This duality of my preferences certainly has sometimes made work unnecessarily difficult but also has generated exceptionality.

The unnecessarily difficult times most often came when I was individually trying to be exceptional. Sometimes this came through my personal desire to be right, to want more attention, or to show off. Sometimes this came through how I was being led. If I was being led through constantly moving goal posts, if I was being led without personal engagement, or if I was being led through authority I then tried to show my exceptionality. I had to prove myself to others, especially those higher in the org chart. This drive toward exceptionality regardless of the source very rarely led to the desired outcome especially when the exceptionality needed the support of other people. I did end up standing out, but often not for what I wanted to stand out for at least with the people who I was hoping to impress. As I reflect back on those situations there are a few common factors involved. First there was a high level of uncertainty. Uncertainty around the goals to be achieved. Uncertainty around the relationships I had with the people I was working with or for. Secondly there was an identity problem. I either did not feel part of the group or felt that I was being pushed to the margins. My response was to create attention and believe it or not sometimes I wanted to create a bit of a spectacle. I can recall many times in management meetings intentionally making a comment or raising an issue that would make senior leaders very uncomfortable. A third factor that affected my failed attempts at being extraordinary was my inability to perform the skills needed. This was from both not having the skills or from not being able to show the skills. This desire to be exceptional often brought with it a set of restraints that would inhibit my ability to effectively use the necessary communication and relationship skills to be effective. The desire also brought blinders that would narrow my view of what skills were truly needed to be effective. I could not see what I needed to do nor how to behave. These blinders and restraints prevented me from seeing the skills I needed to develop and if I did see them I was not able to develop them in those moments.

People may read this and not make the connection with their own experience. There are many times when I wanted to be exceptional, took action to be exceptional, and it led to outstanding outcomes. However most of these situations were mostly individualistic in nature. For example, I wanted to do very well in my graduate studies. I set the goal, took the action, and more often than not achieved the results. When I got good results I often would reset the goal. In my doctoral studies I would challenge myself to see how high of a grade I could get on a paper with the least amount of time writing. I would set a time limit to my writing, often doing almost no editing before submitting the final paper. There were similar examples in my work life as well. But all of these occasions of extraordinariness were solo activities, the process and the outcomes were in my control. When the process and outcomes were integrated with the commitment and resources of other people my desire for extraordinariness had to be approached differently, through being ordinary.

When I look back at my career, my teams and I have achieved exceptional results. We were high performing. We were high performing because we were ordinary and I led with a desire to create an environment of predictability, stability, care, comfort, and joy. I learned early in my career that leading people to achieve greatness comes from me being what the people expected. When I was what they expected - through my behaviours - they could be more of themselves, they could be more expressive, they could be more creative, and they would commit more freely to the success of others. In other words I took away from them the feeling that they needed to stand-out, the feeling that they needed to be exceptional, the feeling that they needed to be extraordinary. They did not need attention, it was given freely. They did not need a relationship with me, I built them. They did not feel that they had to prove they were right, I encouraged dissent. My ordinariness was the fuel of the team's exceptionality. I learned that to get the best of everyone, I needed to build an environment of trust. The trust allowed them to feel comfortable enough to show more of themselves. Their comfort lead to exceptional outcomes.

For a leader, being ordinary can feel deceptively boring. It can feel like you aren't doing "enough" or that you should be more controlling to drive results. But my advice, especially to my students, is this: strive for the extraordinary in your individual craft, but embrace the ordinary when leading others. The dividends of ordinary leadership are profoundly exceptional—they are transformational, sustainable, and bring a deep sense of joy to both you and your team. To every team member who taught me the quiet power of being ordinary: thank you.