Do you have days when you are so fantastically awful at your job, so truly bad, even, that all you want to do is give yourself the boot. Straight to P45. No stern talking to in the loo, no motivational mirror speech, no pacing in Pret. Just go goddamn sack yourself. You suck. Never darken the office door again. Adios. Auf Wiedersehen. Ciao.
Maybe you don’t. Maybe all your working days are filled by high fiving yourself. Giving yourself gold stickers or Gucci shoes to celebrate. Pay rises even. (Although you’ll be a rare bird indeed). You are a stranger to imposter syndrome, no doubt. Literally. You laugh in the face of imposter syndrome. Ha ha ha. You are a psychopath. Good luck to you.
Anyway we don’t all feel like you do. Most of us feel at some point in the working week/day/hour that we’ve done something catastrophically wrong/let everyone down/been caught out. It’s that terrible worry that somehow we are not good enough. And therefore shouldn’t be allowed in the room. Better to sack yourself, get it over and done with.
If this seems like the ravings of a madwoman, it is. An anxious Midult, driven by perfectionism, haunted by failure. But when the worry is on the ebb, when Mercury moves out of retrograde, when the shock of Brangelina has subsided, and I am thinking and feeling clearly, only then does it dawn that I have accumulated good and solid wisdom over the thousands of years I have been working. And therefore I am actually a serial-skiller and deserve my place at the table. So I quietly hire myself back. No bonus though.