Advice for a previous version of you
We were celebrating our second vaccine dose with a trip to the only Chick-fil-A in Maine when we spied a quote from founder S. Truett Cathy on a chalkboard on the wall of the restaurant.
It said, “We must motivate ourselves to do our very best, and by our example lead others to do their best as well.”
Contrarian that I am, I immediately wondered whether this assertion was true. In other words, did I agree with the late Mr. Cathy (Georgian, evangelical Christian, entrepreneur, billionaire, and philanthropist)?
As a person who has, at times, had the power and position to mold young minds, I think about this kind of stuff a lot. What are the implications of sharing the sentiment expressed in this quote with, say, a twelve-year-old?
Kyle pointed out that it was exactly the thing that a young entry-level Chick-fil-A employee could benefit from hearing. I agreed. It made sense for managers to hear it, too, since they would do well to keep in mind their own influence. It was a specific piece of advice that fit perfectly into its ecosystem.
In the context of Chick-fil-A’s highly structured workflows and processes, “do your very best” has a tangible, practical meaning and outcome. You don’t have to decide what your best is. You show up on time, do the job exactly as you’ve been trained to do it with a friendly demeanor, and go home when your shift is over. Hopefully, at that point, you can take a break from motivating yourself to do your very best.
And that’s the thing: I’ve seen the harm that “do your very best” can cause. I don’t think it caused me any harm because I honestly don’t think anyone of significance in my life ever said it to me. But I know lots of people who, even as adults, struggle in the shadow of this type of statement, forever wondering if they’re really doing their best—and feeling guilty if it’s not their very best.
Out in the wild world, there are too many things to do—we can’t do our very best at all of them. We have to pick and choose what we care about, and as adults, we’re allowed to. I do agree with Mr. Cathy’s implication that we are all leaders, but we don’t have to be “on” every second. Sometimes we’re just standing in line at the grocery store, looking at the memes our friend just sent us.
We’ve got to look at the context for any advice or coaching that we might receive—and we might benefit from reevaluating that which was inculcated when we were young. Some of us heard not just that we need to do our best, but that we need to be the best, and I’m truly sorry if that was you. Some of us heard that we shouldn’t get a big head or talk too much or eat too much or be lazy. Some of us were supposed to clean our plates or be silent or stand up straight or hug a scary adult when we didn’t want to.
Your parents and the other adults you encountered on your way to adulthood were living their own lives, doing what they thought was the right thing. They might have made an offhand comment, based on their opinion in the moment, that you’ve been carrying around for decades as objective truth. It might have been meant for a previous version of you. It may no longer apply. You’re allowed to let it go.
For my part, I recognize the value of the Chick-fil-A founder’s exhortation to motivate myself to do my very best. I see that if I were eighteen years old and working at a drive-thru window, the quotation itself might motivate me. I can also see that if I were the twenty-five-year-old manager, a quote like that might give me a sense of purpose as I guide the less experienced team members along the way.
But today, I don’t need motivation to do my very best. At least, I don’t need external inspiration to keep it going anymore. I have already established that habit, and there are others that I find it more important to pay attention to: for instance, taking risks, doing things I’m not very good at, and pursuing joy. I don’t care that much about my best, and it’s not my job to lead you to yours. You get to do whatever you want now—you’re a grownup.