The company-wide award ceremony ended, and after hopping through several karaoke bars, it was 5 AM. Mr. Tanaka stood still on the station platform, watching me until the very end as I boarded the train. Usually, if I noticed that gaze, I would just bow slightly, but that day I took a leap and gave a small wave. Mr. Tanaka smiled and waved back. Even though it was a subway, it felt as if the morning sun had suddenly broken through, making everything bright and allowing fresh air to flow through my body.
I currently work at a mega-venture scale consulting firm. It has been almost a year and a half since I transitioned from a large foreign consulting firm where I started as a new graduate.
I want to record the process of how my "desire to be recognized," which had been smoldering in my previous job, exploded here, how I suffered through its existence, faced it, and finally managed to give it a constructive shape within myself.
By the way, I used the term "desire for recognition" in the title, but I actually didn't want to use this word because of the negative image it has in society. In reality, the desire for recognition is a very natural human urge (it sits at the second level from the top in Maslow's hierarchy of needs) and is not inherently negative. Trying to suppress it forcibly can actually cause more suffering than letting it grow too large.
That is why I want to reconsider the "desire for recognition," which tends to be viewed negatively today. I want to convey that it isn't just something that makes you miserable—it can be handled differently. I want to think about this together with all of you.
With the hope that this serves as a catalyst, I would like to write about the six-month episode following my first-ever career change.
1. I Changed Jobs Because I Wanted to Escape
I worked at the foreign firm I joined as a new grad for about five years. Toward the end, I was in the management department. The final year was chaotic, tossed around by global headquarters' economic trends and repeated organizational restructuring. My boss would say, "I want to promote you soon, but there's a waiting list, so sorry," while implementing typical "stop-gap follow-up measures" like jumping my bonus amount without a promotion.
I joined my current company out of a desperate desire to escape that environment. So, honestly, at first, I had no goals or things I wanted to achieve. I didn't come here to fulfill a dream; I just wanted to go somewhere where it didn't hurt anymore.
And every time I was asked at my new workplace, "What do you want to do?" or "What kind of work do you want?" I began to realize something. More than I thought, the experience of "not being clearly evaluated through titles" at my previous job had wounded me. Without resolving that, it was difficult to think about my hopes or desires with any sense of excitement.
2. "I Want Status and Honor"
Two months after joining.
When my mentor was assigned and we had our first 1-on-1 meeting, I was at a loss for words when asked, "What is your goal?" I decided to think about it until the second meeting.
Then came the second meeting.
Although I had let my thoughts wander through various ideas, what came to mind hadn't changed much.
"I want status and honor."
That's what I told him. It's a strong phrase, but I think it was as close to my true feelings at the time as possible. If I had to set a goal, I felt this was the only thing left. I didn't have a specific job I wanted to do or a field I was particularly interested in; I came here because the environment had few negative factors and the treatment wasn't bad. If I were to gain something there, it was best expressed by the words "status and honor."
And my mentor, Mr. Tanaka, accepted that statement without any denial.
"Understood. Then, let's think about what is necessary to obtain status and honor."
Mr. Tanaka said. I had a hunch since the first 1-on-1, but at that moment, I was certain. I can trust this person! The three-legged race between Mr. Tanaka and me began, and from 그날 on, my anchor became "status and honor."
3. Breaking Down 'Status and Honor' to Set Goals
To obtain status and honor, we first unraveled their true nature to clarify what I should actually acquire.
◎ The 'Status and Honor' I wanted:
◼︎ Things I wanted
├ Titles like promotions (I wanted to be recognized through clear symbols)
├ Praise from colleagues and company executives saying, "That's amazing, well done"
├ To continue being someone my favorite bosses and seniors "want to work with"
◼︎ Things I didn't need
├ Money (I already have a sufficient life)
├ Being thanked in a place where no one sees (I'm happy, of course, but I'd rather many people know/see it)
What does it mean to get the "status and honor" I craved? I converted the items in the "wanted" list into measurable indicators and set my goals as "the highest rank in the year-end evaluation" and "Annual MVP (selected from those within their first year)."
Regarding the latter, the Annual MVP, it wasn't something I had intended to aim for at all; I naturally thought it would be impossible. It was a goal Mr. Tanaka proposed to me in response to my desire for status and honor. While the feeling that it was impossible remained, my heart danced when I imagined the speeches of previous winners I had seen when I first joined. There's no way I can do it. But what if I actually won? Caught between anxiety and expectation, I decided to firmly set that second goal.
4. The Thorough 'Self-Disclosure Cycle'
After setting the goals, we refined the strategy. Of course, I built this together with Mr. Tanaka.
At that time, Mr. Tanaka generously taught me all the "game rules" he knew (what kind of numbers or self-promotion were necessary) to get the "highest rank evaluation" or "Annual MVP." This further strengthened my desire to run with him.
Once it became clear how much in terms of numbers and visible results were needed, all that was left was to gather them. At this point, I created a cycle that I felt would "ensure I am properly evaluated if I do this."
I named it the thorough "Self-Disclosure Cycle." It actually consists of four very simple steps.
① Disclose the numbers and results you want to achieve to your supervisor/evaluator.
② Have them teach you all the necessary actions/stances to get there.
③ Practice the actions/stances you were taught.
④ Report the results of your practice to your supervisor/evaluator.
What?? You might think, but surprisingly few people actually nail this. If you can steadily follow these four steps, you can 100% get the evaluation you want.
In my case, I first went directly to Mr. U, who has one of the highest positions among my immediate superiors, and said, "I'm chasing this goal, and for that, I need about XX in orders. Is there any project I can join you on?" I also asked my senior, Mr. T, who was my primary evaluator on a project, "I'm aiming for X points in the next evaluation. Looking at the current personnel evaluation criteria, what am I missing? I want to improve!" I kept asking until it could be broken down into specific next actions.
And I always reported back to the bosses and seniors who gave me advice, saying, "I tried doing this!"
While some people might recognize that rotating this cycle and reporting are "necessary," it is actually a quite grueling cycle to realize properly.
5. Recklessness and Being a Yes-Man Choke Me
As I continued self-disclosing to those around me—and because I was thoroughly practicing and reporting what I was told—it was perhaps natural that more voices started saying, "Want to try this together?" or "How about this?" It was both a joy and a source of anxiety.
If I refuse even once, will they stop relying on me? Will they think I'm weak? Will they be disappointed, thinking, "Is this all her capacity is?"
Those thoughts tightened around my neck, and as a result, I exceeded my capacity. My calendar was filled in 30-minute increments, and tasks that didn't lead to numbers or money—essentially volunteer activities—had ballooned.
Finally, I cried to Mr. Tanaka, saying, "I don't know what to do anymore..." and my workload was adjusted after Mr. Tanaka negotiated with the company executives on my behalf.
I thought my unique cycle was working well. I thought, "The desire to be recognized isn't bad; I can work hard because of it." For me, this was the first major setback.
When you move solely based on how others see you or how you are evaluated, you can't cut corners. If you do that, you will inevitably exceed your capacity.
What should I do? Maybe this isn't something that can last long... A faint grey rain cloud settled over my heart.
6. Don't You Have Other Motivations?
Around this time—or maybe even earlier—Mr. Tanaka started asking questions like, "Can't you find any other motivations?" or "Is there any specific work you want to do?"
Behind those questions, I'm sure Mr. Tanaka was searching for another way for me to run, seeing how I was suffering from the evaluations of others.
But at the time, I couldn't grasp that. I started having complex feelings toward him, thinking, "Mr. Tanaka accepted my desire for 'status and honor' at first, but maybe he actually thinks that's not a goal I should have," or "Maybe he wants me to have a more noble and essential vision."
Maybe we don't get along because I'm emotional and he's logical. Is he fed up with me? Is he tired of supporting me? Various emotions swirled around, and the days I felt miserable increased.
One day, I was selected as the company-wide Monthly MVP. The few selected people have their names called at the monthly company meeting and give a speech. I had kept it a secret from Mr. Tanaka that I was selected.
On the day, my name was called, and I gave a one-minute speech. Immediately, a message from Mr. Tanaka arrived: "You did it!" I was happy. I was happy, but my emotion at that moment was shocking.
It's still not enough. Praise me more.
That's what I was thinking. I even told Mr. Tanaka directly, "I wanted you to praise me more," which confused him: "Eh!? I just messaged you..." I wanted more praise, more recognition, and I cried alone at home that night.
I thought, I really need to do something. I'm going to go crazy like this. Why do I seek recognition to this extent? It hurts. I want to do something about it. I want to escape.
Feeling that way, I booked an online counseling session for the next day, which happened to be my day off. I had no resistance to counseling, but it had been several years since my last session.
7. Who Is the Person Not Recognizing You?
The counseling was exactly what I needed. Through the eyes of a calm third party, it helped me unravel and verbalize my feelings and situation.
What hit me particularly hard was the question: "Who is the person not recognizing you, Onami-san?" To that, I found myself saying, "Eh... there isn't anyone..."
When I thought about it carefully, looking back, there was no one who didn't recognize me.
At that moment, I was thinking of my female boss from my previous job. It's a fact that I couldn't get the promotion I wanted. But that boss always recognized my work and my planning. Even the fact that she gave me the maximum bonus—while it might have had an aspect of a "stop-gap retention measure"—if I used my imagination, I'm sure she worked hard to negotiate with those above her so that I wouldn't feel sad or pained. Why couldn't I realize such a simple thing?
And I also gained a huge insight: what I was seeking from Mr. Tanaka and other seniors wasn't exactly "recognition," but "empathy." I didn't just want them to pat my head and say, "Good job, you're great." Instead, I wanted them to stand beside me, take my hand, and be happy with the same level of excitement. I wanted a relationship where we could high-five and say, "Yes! It worked!" and I wanted them to feel that way too.
Also, through the process of imagining things from another's perspective, I realized that when Mr. Tanaka asked, "Is there any other motivation?" he wasn't trying to trample on or belittle my feelings. He was simply worried, thinking, "Won't it be painful in the future if it's only about being recognized by others?"
I told Mr. Tanaka everything I realized through the dialogue with the counselor and my own reflection. Then Mr. Tanaka told me, "I was thinking about it all weekend too."
Through our dialogue, we summarized it like this:
- The desire to be recognized is not evil.
- There is no one who doesn't recognize me.
- "Wanting to be recognized" and "wanting to empathize" exist as separate feelings.
- Aim to be someone people can empathize with.
8. So This Is What It Means to "Move the Room"
I often went out drinking or to karaoke with Mr. Tanaka and several others. In both work and private life, Mr. Tanaka was a "rock" and interesting senior, and he often told me, "Move it yourself." For example, if I muttered, "Yesterday's drinking party wasn't fun. I don't want to go anymore," he'd say, "Well, that's what happens if you're passive" (laughs). Even with work, if I consulted him saying, "This isn't going well..." and he sensed I was trying to escape by blaming the environment or others, he'd ask, "Are you trying to move it yourself?"
I thought I understood what that meant, but I didn't really.
Then, one day in January.
The annual award ceremony was held in a large hall. Hundreds of people were gathered.
Before the award I was aiming for, there was an award for the best pair between a mentor and their subordinate. Actually, I had been secretly eyeing this award too. (Though, for this award, the evaluation criteria weren't clear, so it's more accurate to say I was just wishing for it.)
Our names were called as a nominated pair, and we stood up. As my heart rate quickened, our names were called as the winners. We glanced at each other and went up to the stage.
Along with great joy, there was also panic. To be honest, both Mr. Tanaka and I had been incredibly busy until this day, and while we knew we were nominated, we hadn't discussed what to say in a speech if we won. As we headed to the stage, I whispered, "Who speaks first?" and followed Mr. Tanaka's back as he said, "I'll go."
Mr. Tanaka started with, "This girl said at the beginning, 'I want status and honor'..." I thought, "Yes!" I was planning to speak based on that too, so we were connected!
At the same time, waves of laughter began to erupt from the audience. After Mr. Tanaka wrapped it up well, the microphone was passed to me. I said something like, "I said I wanted status and honor, and looking back now, I think I was a very greedy person. But even so, Mr. Tanaka accepted it and said, 'Then let's make a plan for that.' Running with Mr. Tanaka based on that plan, I found many things more important than status and honor. But receiving an honorable award like this and being able to give a speech in front of this many people also feels very good."
As I spoke, I was crying my eyes out.
Then, from the middle of my speech to the end, the number of people sobbing or laughing loudly while clapping increased. Ah, so this is what it means to move the room with your own hands... By the way, when I checked the video later, Mr. Tanaka was laughing loudly behind me.
We left the stage and headed to the commemorative photo area. On the way, there was no one around. Mr. Tanaka said, "I cried too much at home thinking about the speech, so no tears came out today."
More than the certificate, the prize money, or the laughter earlier, that one sentence was the greatest gift of all.
The company-wide award ceremony ended, and a drinking party was held for the department members. After that, karaoke, then a snack bar. The number of people gradually decreased, but Mr. Tanaka and I stayed until the end.
After hopping through several karaoke bars, it was 5 AM. Mr. Tanaka stood still on the station platform, watching me until the very end as I boarded the train.
Usually, if I noticed that gaze, I would just bow slightly, but that day I took a leap and raised my hand a little to give a small wave. Mr. Tanaka smiled and waved back through the window.
Even though it was a subway, it felt as if the morning sun had suddenly broken through, making everything bright and allowing fresh air to flow through my body.
It became the day of an end and the day of a beginning.
My six months starting from the desire for recognition.
As you can see from the speech, what I gained wasn't limited to "recognition," and I spent a long time being tormented by the desire for recognition.
However, as mentioned at the beginning, the "desire for recognition" is located at the second level from the top in Maslow's hierarchy of needs, just before "self-actualization."
That's why I think it's important to first satisfy your own desire for recognition in a way that is appropriate, exciting for you, and supported by those around you—to truly master it.
That process can be largely systematized, as I mentioned earlier.
Don't just make the "desire for recognition" a villain; cherish it carefully, grow it appropriately, and if you can harvest it properly, that's all that matters.
