238. Stop Doing Everything On Your Own
Hard work builds our early career, but strategy, relationships, and visibility carry us further. We stop advancing when we cling to self-reliance instead of inviting others into our process and asking for support the way leaders do. Getting a seat at the table isn't enough for us—we still have to prepare, take up space, and rewrite the stories that hold us back.
Do the job you were hired to do, but find ways to make it work for you—find ways to produce visible evidence of your capabilities, evidence the right people can actually see.
Are you working harder than ever but still stuck in the same spot, wondering why your career isn't moving forward? Are you hesitant to ask for help because it feels like a weakness or like giving up ownership and credit for your work? Are you sitting at the table but feeling unheard, pressured to make yourself more palatable, or told to be grateful just to be there?
You'll learn that asking for help is a leadership skill, not a weakness, and that your career moves faster once you stop trying to do everything on your own.
WHAT YOU WILL DISCOVER
Why hard work has a limit on its return on investment
4 practical tips to start changing your experience at work
Why getting a seat at the table is nowhere near the whole story
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TRANSCRIPT
Welcome to the Stop Sabotaging Your Success podcast, episode two hundred and thirty-eight. I'm your host, Cindy Esliger. This is the podcast focusing on what we can do today to take control of our careers and overcome the inevitable barriers to success that we encounter along the way.
Unfortunately, this took me way too long to figure out, and honestly, I don't think anyone has ever sat me down and told me directly. It's this idea that your career moves faster the moment you stop trying to do everything on your own.
Now, if that sentence made you a little uncomfortable, good. That means it's worth talking about. Because most of us were raised with a few very specific values that include self-reliance, independence, and autonomy. Figure it out for yourself. Don't be a burden. Pull your own weight. And for a lot of us, especially early in our careers, that mindset actually works. It gets you through school. It gets you your first job. It gets you noticed as someone who's competent and low-maintenance.
But here's the problem. That same mindset, the one that served you so well at twenty-four, starts to actively work against you at thirty-four. Because hard work on its own was never actually enough to build a career. And self-reliance, taken too far, isn't a strength. It creates a limit on how far you can go.
In this episode, we're going to unpack why we've internalized this belief that we have to do it all ourselves, and where that belief actually comes from, why hard work has a limit on its return on investment and what that means for how you spend your time and energy going forward, how to build strategic relationships and play the political game without losing your integrity. And then, I want to talk about what it's actually like to earn a seat at the table, especially as women, and why getting that seat is nowhere near the whole story.
Let's start with the belief that you have to do it all yourself. Think about where this comes from. In school, you were graded individually. Group projects were the exception, and honestly, most of us hated them because work was never done equally and someone always coasted. The whole system trained us to believe that our value was measured by what we, personally, alone, could produce and defend.
Carry that into the workplace and you get someone who treats asking for help like admitting defeat. Someone who would rather stay late reinventing something that already exists somewhere else in the building than send one email asking whether anyone has solved this before. I've done this. Maybe you have too. It feels like strength in the moment. It is actually just a very efficient way to cap your own growth.
Career success was never a solo pursuit. Go back and look at literally any story we tell about a "self-made" success and pull on the thread a little. There's a mentor, or co-founder, or a spouse managing the home front. There's a boss who vouched for them behind closed doors. The lone genius is a myth we tell because it's a satisfying story, not because it's how things actually happen. Innovation, in reality, is accelerated by collaboration. Confidence is built the same way—by bouncing ideas off people, by getting told, "yes, that's good, run with it", or by having someone catch the flaw in your thinking before it becomes a costly mistake.
So, if collaboration is actually the accelerant, why do we resist it? I think it's because we conflate asking for help with losing ownership and having to share credit. We think if we invite someone else into our process, the work stops being ours. But you can ask a colleague to sanity-check your approach without handing them the steering wheel. You can loop in someone senior for feedback on a proposal while still being the one who presents it and gets the credit. It's the difference between asking someone to do this for you and asking someone to help you think this through. One outsources the work, while the other multiplies your thinking.
Asking for help is not a weakness; it's a leadership skill. Think about the leaders you respect most. Do they know everything? No. What they're good at is knowing exactly who to ask, when to ask, and how to frame the ask so people actually want to help them. That's not incompetence; that's strategy. There's a real art to it—asking for support in a way that positions you as someone who is building something bigger than themselves, rather than someone who can't handle their job. The people who get promoted fastest are rarely the ones who never need help. They're the ones who've built a network of people who are personally invested in seeing them succeed.
So, let's talk about hard work, because I don't want you to hear any of this as "hard work doesn't matter". It does. It's necessary. But—and this is the part nobody tells you—it has a limit on its return on investment. At a certain point, working harder stops translating into moving forward. And if no one warns you about that, you can spend years confused about why you're still in the same spot.
Here's what I mean. You have to be strategic about where you spend your time and energy, about determining the direction you actually want to go, and about what will realistically get you there. Because advancement is not guaranteed, and it is not purely based on demonstrated achievement. There is an enormous amount of subjectivity in how careers actually progress. Who gets promoted often has as much to do with who's aware of the work they do, who's willing to advocate for them, and who's been positioned as "leadership material" as it does with who did the best work last quarter. That's uncomfortable to hear. It was uncomfortable for me to accept. But once you accept it, you can actually do something about it.
Here's the pattern I've seen, and maybe you've lived it too. The time for pure hard work seems to be best spent early in your career—maybe the first three to five years after university. That's when you're establishing yourself, building your professional reputation by proving you're reliable and capable. Most of us navigate that stage with relative ease because at that level you're a worker bee and your hard work genuinely does separate you from the pack. Show up, do good work, be dependable—and you'll get noticed.
But then you hit the managerial level. You become a supervisor. And this is the first point in your career where hard work alone is no longer the determining factor for advancement, and almost nobody sees it coming because your job functionally changes. It's no longer about the quality of the work you personally produce; it's about your ability to get much more work done through other people. This is an entirely different skill set, and no one warns you the shift is coming, so many of us are completely unprepared for these changes.
It feels like we've reached the end of the checklist we were handed—which included things like going to school, getting a good job, working hard—and then we hit a wall. We wonder, "Now what?". We aren't even sure we know what we want to do next, so we struggle to make the right moves to get there.
Honestly, our parents couldn't help us navigate this—it was a different world when they were working. A generation or two ago, a company might shepherd you through the ranks because you were signing on for the long haul. That model is mostly gone. Now, you're lucky if anyone takes you under their wing at all. You're on your own, for the most part.
So, if you're standing at that point right now—you've done the hard work, you feel like you've hit the glass ceiling, and you're not sure what comes next—that's exactly the moment to sit down and build a real, deliberate, strategic career plan. Not just a list of tasks to complete, but an actual plan for how you get from here to where you want to be. If that's something you want help with, that's a conversation I'd genuinely love to have with you.
Which brings us to office politics—a phrase that makes almost everyone's skin crawl a little, because it sounds like a euphemism for being fake. But it doesn't have to be. Learning to play the game without losing your integrity is possible, and that's good news, because learning to play the game is necessary.
Navigating organizational dynamics effectively means understanding how decisions actually get made in your organization, who has real influence versus who just has a big title, and using that understanding to advocate for yourself and your ideas—without having to pretend to be someone you're not.
Political savvy is not the same as manipulation. It's paying attention. It's understanding power dynamics well enough that you're not blindsided by them. And it's using influence ethically—by building real professional relationships, being genuinely useful to people, and letting that translate into reciprocal support that's there when you need it.
Getting a seat at the table matters enormously. Diversity of thought has never been more relevant than it is right now, and being able to share your ideas is important both for your own success and for the success of the organization as a whole. Being in the room gives you much needed exposure—you get to see the action unfold, and just as importantly, people get to see you. But being in the room does not guarantee that anyone will appreciate your perspective, or even really listen to what you have to say. And unfortunately, I know that firsthand.
For a long stretch of my career, I was on a mission to prove myself. I just wanted to feel like I was enough. I wanted to be treated fairly, given access to the same opportunities as everyone else, so that I could earn them based on merit. To me, success was getting that seat at the table. That was the real driving force for a huge chunk of my career.
At my job, very few women held technical roles. I taught myself everything I needed to know to fit into an environment that was unfamiliar and, honestly, sometimes hostile. I worked really hard. Eventually, I found success—I finally got the hang of it. I felt like I had done what a lot of people around me were still hoping they could do. It made me feel proud of my efforts. Some days, I felt almost like a superhero, somewhat invincible.
But looking back, that was a facade, an alter ego I'd built to cope, a persona I put on to survive in that workplace. And to be fair, it worked. In a few instances, I was actually able to challenge some entrenched beliefs, to shift how a handful of people saw things, and eventually, I got that seat at the table, right alongside the men who dominated my industry.
I felt more confident. I thought this was my chance to actually gain influence, so I started chiming in, sharing my opinions and my ideas. And that made some people uncomfortable. Some of them wanted to hold onto the status quo, and I was disrupting it by just having a different point of view. What I didn't understand yet was that having a seat at the table didn't mean anything I said would be valued, or even heard.
What I didn't understand at first—and this took me a long time to fully see—is that most major decisions had already been made before we ever walked into the meeting room. A wise leader doesn't hope things go their way; they do the advance work to make sure they do. Since the decision was essentially already locked in by the time I opened my mouth, asking questions or pointing out gaps made me appear adversarial and not part of the crowd. I was, without meaning to, making myself a target—being perceived as a threat to their agenda rather than an enabler. Really, I was just showing everyone how little I understood about how things actually worked there.
I had mistakenly believed that having a seat at the table meant they were open to a different perspective, that things might actually be different this time. After all, I'd been invited to the big kids' table. But what I hadn't counted on was how exhausting and emotionally draining it was to sit in that chair. I was told to speak up more, be more assertive. Then, I was told to not be so aggressive or so pessimistic. I was even told I should smile more, which really made me mad. Everyone else at the table had been sitting there for years; people were used to them. My presence was a little jarring for some.
I took all of it in and went into overdrive, feeling the pressure to make the most of this opportunity. But I kept getting drowned out. Same voices, same perspectives, and no surprise, nothing changed. It felt like I was constantly readjusting my chair, trying to find my place within the room—thinking that if I made myself more palatable to others, I'd find a more supportive crowd who actually wanted to hear what I had to say.
At one point, I was told I should just be grateful to have a seat at all—that I was a token representative, which meant carrying the weight of representing not just my own ideas, but my entire gender. What it really meant was that someone thought inviting me was a good idea for optics, but they didn't actually want my take on things. My ideas were almost never included. I felt so much pressure just to hold onto my seat that I never once felt comfortable bringing my full self to the discussion. I was feeling intimidated by the old boys' club I'd fought so hard to join.
And here's what I eventually understood: I'd been conditioned to believe that success was getting that seat at the table. But when the chair doesn't reach the table, you don't get to just go find another one. They've done their part—they've extended the invitation and you're in the room. The rest, apparently, is up to you. And that's a lot to ask. It's asking one person to create a monumental shift in perspective that is, honestly, well beyond what any single individual can do alone.
But, as I'll share in a minute, I do have a few thoughts on where to start.
Before I get to those, I want to state in no uncertain terms, that we are not broken. From the moment we start our careers, to the day we leave the workforce, women navigate invisible barriers to advancement. Sometimes, we don't even see them because we've been trained to believe that fixing ourselves is easier than fixing the systemic problems that tend to be on an organizational level. There's some truth in that—it is often easier—but that shouldn't stop you from doing what you can to improve your own experience at work. The real game-changer is being able to identify these barriers in advance. Knowing they're coming is half the battle.
And there is an entire industry built on the premise that women need fixing. Countless books, countless programs, all designed to help women "fix" the way in which we do things in order to get ahead. We are, collectively, a little obsessed with fixing what others deem women are doing wrong. Most of us have already done the work. It's no secret we have to work harder than our male counterparts just to demonstrate our capability, and we expend enormous energy simply proving we're worthy to do the job at all.
The idea that women need fixing rests on an assumption that we're somehow less capable than men. That assumption is false. But because it's the accepted narrative, the burden falls on women to manage the gap—to fix ourselves to fit into organizations that were never designed with us in mind in the first place.
You've probably heard that women aren't paid the same as men because we don't negotiate as often. There's some truth there, but even when women do ask for a raise as frequently as men, we're less likely to actually get one. There's also an assumption that there's some specific skill women are missing that, once corrected, could fix everything. Again, there's a grain of truth in that, because many of us do hold ourselves back when we don't feel quite good enough, yet. But what many of us don't realize is that women already have everything they need to succeed at work, and then some.
Women make outstanding leaders—we build community, we lead democratically, we're innovative, collaborative, and supportive. We're skilled. We're talented. And building better workplaces isn't just good for women—men have a lot to gain from a more equal workplace, too.
In my opinion, women are not the problem. It's just easier to believe that than to admit our workplaces are, in many ways, broken. So many of us buy into the idea that we need fixing, and that belief gets reinforced every time we walk into the office. Workplaces devalue women's contributions, reinforcing the message we've already internalized—that we're not good enough. Workplaces simply don't function the same way for women as they do for men.
There's a recognizable pattern to this across a career: the idealistic years of entering the workforce, the middle years juggling a management role and a household—often caregiving too—and the veteran years navigating a high-level leadership role. Knowing this pattern is structural, not personal, means when it happens to you, you're not blindsided into thinking it's personal.
At the same time, we can't just sit around waiting for someone to hand us the support we need. We have to build it ourselves—through internal and external networks, mentors, and advocates. Cultural change takes time and investment, and here's the frustrating part: they need to hear from other people that you're worth investing in before they'll believe it. Nobody wants to stick their neck out for an unproven commodity.
So, we have to figure out how to get around those gatekeepers—by creating opportunities that help us establish a track record we can point to. True investment is supposed to value potential over proof, but for women, that proof is what they're waiting for. This is "prove it again" bias—where we're constantly having to prove ourselves, while others are extended credit on potential alone.
Don't wait to be handed a role you'll thrive in. Do the job you were hired to do, but find ways to make it work for you—find ways to produce visible evidence of your capabilities, evidence the right people can actually see. Learn the rules of the game, like what's actually rewarded in your organization, what "successful" looks like there, and how the norms around leadership and communication style operate. It's genuinely different from university, where your ideas were heard and your value was visible in what seemed like a real meritocracy. Somewhere between the classroom and the cubicle, the rules changed, and most of us never got that memo.
And play to your strengths. In general, studies show that women tend to be better negotiators than men, especially when we're advocating for others. Be honest about where you could show some improvement, but be willing to lead with what already works. Above all, don't internalize the messages that bring you down. It's not you, it's the workplace. Shift from victim to strength, and recognize just how capable you really are.
Confidence is an inside job. You can do everything exactly right—get the good grades, the degree, and even receive the strong performance reviews—and still not get where you're going. And that has nothing to do with your competence. It took me a long time to build real confidence in my abilities. I kept looking to others to tell me what I was good at. It can be harder than it sounds to feel confident in what you're able to do because unsupportive environments erode your self-confidence slowly, almost imperceptibly. The number one thing that helps is simply not internalizing the barriers.
Because when we do internalize them, we go chasing the next mentoring program, the next negotiation workshop, the next networking framework—putting our faith in some magic fix, where what we actually need to succeed is already inside us, waiting for us to recognize it.
So, with all of that as the backdrop, here are four places to start:
It's more than just optics. We're told we should feel grateful for the chance to be in the room—like they're doing us a favor, or simply meeting a quota. Gratitude gets weaponized against us, and it doesn't translate into opportunities or a bigger paycheck. It's no secret that women get assigned more of the unrecognized, unrewarded, non-promotable work—the stuff nobody else wants. We shouldn't have to be grateful for a seat we've earned. We should be paid for it, recognized for it. Nobody should be able to hold it over our heads. Being invited shouldn't be framed as a favor—if we've earned it, we deserve it, same as anyone else. So, don't treat the invitation as a burden; treat it as a door opening a crack, and stick your foot out to wedge it open further. You can be grateful and still know exactly what you deserve. That takes real preparation—building support for your ideas before you walk into the room, and knowing how to handle objections in advance.
We're not broken. The barriers are structural, not personal. And once you know they are coming, you can prepare for them instead of absorbing them as evidence of your own shortcomings.
Take up space. In my experience, if you're waiting for others to make space for you, you'll be waiting a long time. Being invited to the table isn't the same as being welcomed at it. Making space for yourself, and actually occupying it, is your job. That doesn't mean contorting yourself or making yourself more palatable—it means showing up and owning it. When you're genuinely confident, you carry yourself differently and people are far less likely to dismiss you. Here's an interesting pattern I've noticed: when more men join a table, they simply make the table longer. When women join, we're somehow expected to squeeze ourselves in. We've internalized a scarcity mindset where there are limited spots available for women, instead of championing each other. I've fallen into that trap myself. Sitting at a table alone is hard. Sitting there together, supporting each other, is a completely different experience. Part of taking up space is learning to take calculated risks—raising your hand even when it feels risky. Classrooms rewarded merit; workplaces reward visibility, assertiveness, and a willingness to play the more political, competitive side of professional life. Not naturally comfortable for a lot of us, but it can be learned.
Upgrade the stories we tell ourselves, and each other. Half the population is female, yet women remain a minority of applicants and fill an even smaller number of successful candidates. There's truth to the idea that you can't fix a ratio if women aren't in the pipeline to begin with, and some progress is happening there. But we also need more visible stories of women succeeding, so the next generation has real examples to point to, not just a checklist of obstacles. Even women who do make it often feel isolated, and many don't stick around. Stories are how we understand ourselves, each other, and the world. Inviting more perspectives to the table isn't just a nice gesture—research shows it produces smarter, more productive conversations. As women, we've often been taught to be self-deprecating, and that invites others to judge us in the same way. If we don't believe we can do something, why would anyone else? There's a real confidence gap, and while some of it may be personality or societal expectations, that doesn't explain the gender difference on its own. Some of it is what we do to ourselves; some of it is what's done to us. Some workplaces are wonderful; some are still genuinely toxic—and when women deal with that kind of environment, it's no wonder their confidence takes a hit. It's been over fifty years since women entered the workforce in large numbers, and our workplaces still don't reflect the demographics of the world we live in, and that gap isn't caused by a lack of competence. When women are actually given a fair shot, we do well.
And to be clear—this was never about men versus women, or about women needing to act more like men. I'd like everyone to be able to bring their true selves to work—their strengths, their different identities, and their actual capabilities. That's how we get real cognitive diversity. And it might be just how we end up with advancing the people who are generally the most capable leaders, regardless of who they are.
I know this is a lot. I think discussions like these are necessary, and worth it. This was never just about women in the workplace—it's about building a world where half the population is thriving, instead of just surviving. Wouldn't it be something to build a world where the next generation has equitable access from the start?
It's going to take a lot of us to get there, but we don't have to wait for someone else to make the first move. There's a lot we can do, starting right now, to change our own experience at work—and to stop trying to do it entirely alone.
And that's it for this episode of Stop Sabotaging Your Success. Remember to download your Guide to Getting Out of Your Own Way at cindyesliger.com/podcast, episode two hundred and thirty-eight.
Thank you to our producer, Alex Hochhausen and everyone at Astronomic Audio. Get in touch, I'm on Instagram @cindyesliger. My email address is info@cindyesliger.com.
If you enjoy listening to this podcast, you have to come check out The Confidence Collective. It's my monthly coaching program where we dig a little deeper into what's holding you back in your career and we find the workarounds. We help you overcome the barriers and create the career you want. Join me over at cindyesliger.com/join. I'd love to have you join me in The Confidence Collective.
Until next week, I'm Cindy Esliger. Thanks for listening.
