Why you SHOULD toot your own horn at work

My team had built an excellent product.

Nobody would confuse it for the next Tesla, but as far as software goes, it checked all the boxes and then some. It fixed an urgent business need, was stable and worked well under high workloads, was easy to integrate, cost very little to make and maintain, and had earned rave reviews from early users.

As my team and I were pitching others across the company to adopt our product, good news came along: we were up for one of the the company’s annual awards.

At that company, this is when the lobbying typically began. For example, VPs and Directors of the teams nominated would ensure that those impressed by a product would send their positive feedback to the judges.   

I asked my bosses to make sure our hard work did not go unnoticed. I expected them to jump at the chance, given that this was the first nomination for our newly formed team and budget season was around the corner.

“We don’t do that,” I was told.

“But all the other VPs are making sure their teams and products get consideration. Our company is based on relationships. This is not illegal or immoral, but expected behavior,” I protested.

“If our work is good, the rewards will come. We shouldn’t have to call attention to a job well done,” my bosses told me.

I persisted, only to be told, “If we invest our political capital for this and don’t win, we’ll come out diminished. If we fly under the radar and win, that would be better.”

The awards ceremony rolled along as I’d expected. The teams who walked away with awards were ones aggressively promoted by their leaders; in meetings, town-halls, 1:1 settings with other leaders and influencers, etc.

This is not to say that the winners were undeserving. The award-winners had built something of value and were rewarded. However, in many cases, their products had a smaller impact than ours or were less business critical.

And yet, on that starry night, those teams were like grooms and my team felt like the ex-boyfriend. They were kissing the missus while we were missing the kisses.

Like many of us, I have had a very uncomfortable relationship with self-promotion.

It can feel uncomfortable, immoral, self-aggrandizing and cheap. I like to believe, like my bosses erroneously did, if your work is good, it will command attention without you needing to draw attention.

Ever since I was little, I was told at home and in school: Do right and it will be all right.

Do your homework, get good grades, tell the truth and you will keep moving forward.

My professional experiences have led me to conclude that this belief is not necessarily wrong, but reflects an incomplete understanding of the human psyche and how the wheels of progress grind forward.

First, promoting your work does not demean it, but shows your pride in it. There is no virtue in silent successes.

Also, asking for support does not demean you but does dignify the person you ask. No heart, however corporate or cynical, is immune to outreach and respect.

If quality was the only thing that mattered, then why do you suppose they run ads for Mercedes?

Second, in the aforementioned story, what my bosses and I both got wrong is that performance and self-promotion are not mutually-exclusive choices, but co-equal ingredients of a successful recipe.

The caliber of your work is like lyrics, without which any song has a short shelf-life. Your ability to draw attention to your work is like the catchy melody that draws people in and makes them listen to the lyrics.

By pitting principle and pragmatism against each other, my bosses and I missed an opportunity to make the most of the awards ceremony.

Third, acceptance breeds more acceptance. Winning the award or even being considered strongly for it would have given our product that special aura. People who had adopted us would have sung our praises louder, fence-sitters would have hopped onto our side and skeptics would have peeked over the fence in our direction.

Everyone likes to be a winner or at least be with one. At the time, I was especially aggravated that my bosses were overlooking this most basic human reality.

Fourth, if you sell a product, the buyer needs to see that you believe in your own work. This is probably why salespeople convey a confident and extroverted personality.

When I asked folks who had used our product to put in a good word to the judges, they often responded, “But why haven’t I heard from Joel?,” referring to my boss.

It did not go unnoticed that even as us trench-warriors were promoting our work, our leaders were silent.

Fifth, when judges pick a winner for an award, they are usually comparing several contenders that may be inherently dissimilar.

In order for them to make an informed decision, it falls on you to explain your product and why it was an improvement over the status quo.

Content may be king, but context is kingmaker.

Additionally, too many of us consider professional awards to be a zero-sum game. My gain has to come at your expense. Therefore, if I win, you must lose.

But in reality, they serve a larger purpose.

The process of educating the adjudicators, of influencing the opinion-makers, and of ensuring that people with a lot of other things on their mind become aware of what you have accomplished is vital to ensure that your work has the desired impact.

While only one team would eventually win the award, every contender emerges better understood and advertised, and eventually more accepted.

So, quit telling yourself “job well done” once your product works. More often than not, when your product works, the real job has just begun.

Which brings me to the final insight.

My then managers believed that lobbying for the award and losing would dilute their political capital.

This, in my opinion, is a naive view of how influence and leadership really work.

Preserving your political capital for some perfect moment in the future is like preserving your sexual prowess for old age when you will have tons of time to use it.

Power is like a seed; by itself meaningless unless used to create something new. The best use of power is to deploy it in furtherance of achieving goals that improve collective welfare.

All the above lessons can be coalesced into a single one: there is no uninterrupted linear route to the promised land.

Tooting your own horn, if done merely for your own benefit or to claim credit for work done by others, is unseemly and unethical.

If done, on the other hand, to educate others about your collective work, and help achieve collective objectives, it is not just appropriate but indispensible.

So, make sure you take your co-creators along for the ride, know where you’re headed, and by all means, toot your own horn with pride and joy.