Becoming a VP took a lot of hard work and even meant missing some family events. But Katy McFee writes that once she reached the executive level she was disappointed.
eclipse_images/Getty Images
Becoming a VP was a big disappointment for me.
I knew I wanted to be one since my first-ever sales job. I thought my boss (our VP Sales) had the coolest job ever, so I set out to make it happen.
I was a hard worker, and after a few successful sales roles at some bigger companies, I was offered the opportunity to join another start-up and build a team. I'd landed my first real leadership role.
Starting at this new company filled me with imposter syndrome. Being an achievement-driven individual, I was not afraid to work like crazy for my goal. I lived and breathed my job.
For the next few years, I tried to get that next promotion and was always told I just wasn't there yet. I was frustrated, but I hung in there, and after a reorg, I got a director title and a seat at the senior management table.
There were a few reasons for this.
I just had my second child and struggled to balance being a mom of two young boys and my new leadership role.
I felt different from the other execs. I had a bubbly, outgoing personality and a sales background, while they were primarily introverted intellects.
My undiagnosed ADHD meant struggling to make early morning meetings or read long documents — things that seemed so simple for everyone else and impossible for me.
All of this triggered feelings of imposter syndrome and doubt in myself. I questioned whether someone like me was really cut out to be at the executive table.
I remember there was a group of executives, including the CEO, who would go for lunch on Thursdays to talk strategy. If you got invited, you were in the club. In my five years as a director, I never did.
For the next five years, I worked my tail off, hoping to land a promotion to VP. I poured my heart and soul into trying to get the business off the ground. I put in long days and worked in the evenings. This meant answering emails the minute I opened my eyes in the morning, rarely taking a real lunch break and being 'on' 24-7. I never took a vacation without my phone and made myself the 'go-to' for anything my team needed.
But the biggest sacrifice was the travel. I recall one trip to California in particular. I was traveling with one of my reps to try and close business. The pressure was on because we weren't hitting our numbers, and I felt this reflected my own ability to be an executive.
I got a note from my son's school saying their kindergarten graduation would be on the Thursday that I was gone. My heart sank. I couldn't cancel the work trip so, as I always did, I put my job first. I tried to video call from the car, but we lost connection. I missed the whole thing.
I didn't realize how much the stress of my job was impacting my relationships and my physical and mental health.
I brought up my VP promotion to my boss every chance I got — during annual reviews as well as in our 1-on-1 meetings. I must have had at least two dozen conversations with him about this, with me trying to convince him to give me the title, and each time, he responded that I needed to be more strategic, and I just wasn't there yet.
I started to wonder whether I should consider a different career path.
Finally, after eight and a half years with the company, I decided it was time to make a change. I was having lunch with a VP I had worked for previously and mentioned I was considering my options. To my utter surprise, he suggested a VP sales opportunity he thought I was perfect for.
My dream came true. But it wasn't what I expected.
C-suite execs and VPs were treating me like I had all of the knowledge. They were asking my advice on things — and listening.
At first this surprised me, and worried me a little. Would I be able to live up to their expectations? Clearly, they thought I was a whole lot smarter than I actually was.
But I realized that I was just as capable as them and had been so all along. I was the same person I was before the VP title, with the exact same knowledge — it's not like after I became VP I suddenly became 200% wiser. But because I was now a VP, people were listening to me, and it was hard for me to reconcile that.
After years of not being part of the club, I had created a narrative in my head that the people at the table had something that I didn't have — and I may never have. But the truth was they weren't any smarter, more talented, or special. It struck me that my colleagues were actually just like me.
Two years into my role, I was contacted by a recruiter for an EVP role. This was a real seat at the table. I took the call thinking there was no way I'd actually get an offer. But sure enough, after a couple of rounds of interviews, I got the job and accepted it.
Starting my EVP role was nerve-wracking. But I got to learn my lesson all over again. Here I was, part of a talented team of high-achieving execs. And they valued me.
Finally, after years of doubting myself, I realized my fellow executives were treating me like their equal because I was.
I was disappointed I let my own self-doubt get in the way for too many years. That I assumed the people at the table were so much smarter than I was. That I believed the messages I'd received for so long, that the people who belonged at the table weren't like me.
It was total BS. I felt disappointed that I had let one environment dictate how I felt about my abilities for so long.
This realization gave me the freedom to show up as my full authentic self in my leadership role and share my ideas with confidence. As soon as I allowed myself to let go of my limiting beliefs, things got so much easier.
Katy McFee is the CEO of Insights to Action Coaching and Consulting.
