The Unexpected Pleasure of Simply Doing My Part
After years of ownership and being the person in charge
The other afternoon, near the end of my shift at the wellness studio, I was doing one of the glamorous tasks associated with my new part-time job: wiping down tabletops, spraying surfaces, and emptying the trash.
And I realized I was taking a strange amount of pride in it.
Not because anyone was watching me. Not because there was a bonus involved. And certainly not because emptying trash cans has suddenly become one of my great passions in life. I just liked knowing that I was leaving the studio clean and ready for the next day. My coworkers would walk into a tidy studio. The coaches would have a pleasant place to work. Clients would come into a clean, welcoming space.
I was simply doing my part.
And, surprisingly, that felt really good.
Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me, but after spending most of my adult working life either owning a business or being in a position where I was responsible for producing results, I've become very accustomed to work coming with a certain amount of weight attached to it.
When you own the business, there really isn't such a thing as simply doing your part. Ultimately, all the parts are your part.
If revenue is down, you think about it. If a client isn't happy, you think about it. If something isn't working, you figure out how to fix it. If there isn't enough money coming in, nobody higher up the food chain is going to swoop in and solve that problem for you. The financial success of the whole enterprise ultimately depends on you.
Just typing that makes me a little tired.
Recently we had a sales-team call at the studio, and our general manager was talking about sales incentives and commissions for bringing in new members. Of course I'd love to earn some extra money. I'm certainly not going to turn it down! But as she was talking, I had this funny realization: the commission isn't really what makes me want to sell memberships.
I want to do a good job. I want the studio to do well. I want the owner to succeed. I want my coworkers to succeed. I want our clients to have a good experience and our coaches to have full schedules.
And none of those things are ultimately my responsibility.
That distinction feels surprisingly wonderful.
It also reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten. Years ago, when I was a Mary Kay sales director, one of my friends was working toward earning her next promotion. She needed to add five new team members to her unit within the next week to earn the promotion, and I remember thinking, “Shoot, I can help with that.”
So I reached out to a handful of my best customers and offered for them to become consultants rather than customers and order their products at cost instead of buying from me. That helped my sales director reach the number she needed, and she earned her promotion.
I suppose there was a benefit to me too, but that's not what I remember caring about. What I remember is wanting to help my friend succeed and realizing I had something I could contribute that might help her get there.
Apparently I've always enjoyed being part of a winning team and even someone else's success.
What feels different now is that I'm getting to experience that without simultaneously carrying the responsibility for the entire outcome.
And I think there may be something important in that distinction, particularly in this stage of my life.
For a lot of us, our working years have been about increasing responsibility. We worked our way up. We built careers, businesses, families and lives. We became the person people counted on. We made decisions, solved problems, and carried increasingly bigger loads because we were capable of doing it.
There can be enormous satisfaction in that. I'm grateful for the businesses I've built and the years I spent being the person in charge.
But I'm beginning to realize there's another kind of satisfaction available too.
There's something really lovely about bringing your experience, competence, energy, and care to something without needing to own it.
I can notice something that needs doing and do it. I can make a suggestion when I think it might help. I can follow up with a prospective client, ask for the sale, help solve a problem, encourage a coworker—or apparently clean the heck out of a countertop—and then go home.
The studio's success matters to me.
But it doesn't belong to me.
That's a distinction I don't think I fully appreciated until now.
For years, I probably associated meaningful work with responsibility. If I cared deeply, I carried deeply. If something mattered to me, I naturally started thinking about how to improve it, fix it, grow it, or take responsibility for it.
I'm learning that those things don't necessarily have to travel together.
I can care without carrying.
I can contribute without controlling.
I can take tremendous pride in doing my part without making myself responsible for everybody else's part.
And maybe that's one of the unexpected pleasures of this chapter of my life. After all those years of being the person in charge, I don't need another empire to build. I don't need everything I do to become something bigger. Sometimes I can simply show up, bring what I have to offer, leave things a little better than I found them—and head home knowing I did my part.
Turns out, that's pretty satisfying too.
Want to explore what this season of your life is asking of you?
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