You really don’t.
I’m not reasonable. I don’t pretend to be. This is not a job for me. It’s not a role, a title, or something I clock in and out of. This is everything to me. It’s an obsession. A beautiful addiction. And if I’m being honest, it’s getting worse.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to surround myself with a group of exceptional lunatics who have only made it worse. The ambition. The audacity. The energy. The enthusiasm. The momentum. And when I say worse, I mean better in every conceivable way.
And then the creative team do what they do. They tell the story so incredibly well. Too well, maybe. Suddenly, we have multiple applicants every day wanting to be part of the adventure, at every level of the business. Drawn in by the excitement, the energy, the enthusiasm, and maybe even the entertainment. And I get it. It looks intoxicating from the outside.
But almost none of you want the reality.
The reality is relentless. It asks more than most people have ever been asked to give. More than many even want to give. The closest comparison I can make is trying to compete in international sport while doing a PhD. And even that was easier. The pace was slower. The demands were lower. The standards were lower.
Oh, and we are accelerating.
The pace has never been quicker. And this is the slowest it will ever be again.
Everyone likes the idea of a high-performance environment. It sounds impressive. It looks good on LinkedIn. But when you try it; when you really try it, it doesn’t stop. Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years. It’s exhilarating. For some, it’s energising. For others, it’s completely exhausting.
Then there’s the pressure.
Not the pressure the business puts on you. That’s manageable. That’s rational. This is worse. It’s the pressure that a very specific type of damaged, overachieving perfectionist puts on themselves. The curse of competence. The expectation of success is so baked in that achievement barely registers. No celebration. No pause. Just a brief moment of relief before the next challenge.
And you start asking yourself uncomfortable questions. What have I actually done that’s worth celebrating? Is this good enough? Am I good enough? Can I keep this up?
Do I even really want this?
Now add the twist that you’re surrounded by the most incredible group of people you can imagine. Every single one is intentionally better than you at something that really matters. Then tell yourself you belong. That you deserve to be here. And then you have to prove it. Every single day.
Then the bar rises. Then rises again. A new level of performer enters the room, and suddenly yesterday’s best is today’s baseline. And again the questions creep in, uninvited but persistent.
Do I really deserve to be here? If we were recruiting right now, would I even get an interview?
Anyways, let’s come back to the point of this piece.
You don’t want to work here. You don’t want to work with me. This is not a reasonable way to live. It will take more than you think you have. It will expose you. It will stretch you. It will break comfortable versions of yourself you didn’t even realise you were protecting.
But you do want to know how good you can be? You want to know if you can perform at this level? You want to know what you can achieve when you give it everything?
Maybe you do want to work here. I certainly do.