Today is the first day of classes at Spartanburg Methodist College.
You would think after more than 26 years working in college athletics, I would have the whole "first day" routine figured out.
Apparently not.
My morning got off to a slower start than planned because I couldn't find my black dress shoes.
I looked where I thought they were.
Nothing.
Looked somewhere else.
Still nothing.
Eventually, I had to stop looking because the clock wasn't going to wait for me.
That's when I remembered a new pair of Nike shoes our athletic director had given me. They were still sitting in the box.
So instead of the black dress shoes I had planned to wear, I opened the box, pulled out the Nikes and headed to campus.
Not exactly how I planned to start the first day of classes.
But while driving to work, I started thinking about how appropriate those shoes actually were for something else I've been thinking about lately.
Maybe there are times when we spend too much energy looking for the old shoes because they're what we've always worn.
We know them.
We're comfortable in them.
They're what people expect to see us wearing.
Meanwhile, there's a new pair sitting in the box.
And maybe it's time to put them on.
I'm not really talking about shoes anymore.
I'm talking about our careers.
Maybe We Don't Need to Reinvent Ourselves
There is a piece of career advice we hear all the time:
Reinvent yourself.
When you feel stuck, reinvent yourself.
When you want something different, reinvent yourself.
When you've been doing the same work for years, reinvent yourself.
When you reach a certain point in your career, reinvent yourself.
I've been thinking about that advice lately, and I'm not sure I completely agree with it.
Sometimes you don't need to reinvent yourself.
Sometimes you need to reintroduce yourself.
There is a difference.
Reinvention suggests that something needs to be replaced. That the person you've been professionally isn't enough for where you want to go next.
Reintroduction says something very different.
It says you've grown.
You've learned.
You've accumulated experiences that aren't captured by the title underneath your name.
And maybe people simply don't know that part of you yet.
When Your Job Title Stops Telling the Whole Story
For most of my professional career, explaining what I do has been pretty easy.
I work in college athletics communications.
I've spent more than 26 years in this profession. I've worked at different institutions and different levels of college athletics. I've written thousands of stories and releases, kept statistics, worked countless games, handled media requests, managed websites and social media, and done many of the things that come with working in athletic communications.
That is part of who I am professionally.
I'm proud of it.
But I've started realizing something.
It isn't the complete answer anymore.
Over those same years, I've hired people.
I've supervised interns and young professionals.
I've reviewed resumes.
I've conducted interviews.
I've made introductions.
I've helped people prepare for interviews.
I've talked with people who weren't sure whether they should take a job.
I've encouraged people after they didn't get one.
I've watched young professionals make mistakes.
I've made plenty myself.
I've watched relationships open doors that an application couldn't.
I've watched talented people struggle because nobody taught them how to communicate what they could bring to an organization.
And somewhere along the way, helping people figure out their careers became one of the most meaningful parts of mine.
That wasn't a reinvention.
It was an evolution that had been happening quietly for years.
I just hadn't necessarily introduced people to that part of me.
People Know the Version of You That You Show Them
This is where I think many of us make a mistake.
We get frustrated because people only see us for our current job.
But what have we shown them?
If everything you post is about your current position, people will associate you with your current position.
If every professional conversation is about what you currently do, people will associate you with what you currently do.
If your LinkedIn profile reads like a list of responsibilities from your job description, people will probably put you into a pretty small professional box.
And then we wonder:
Why isn't anyone asking me to speak?
Why doesn't anyone think of me for leadership opportunities?
Why don't people know I'm interested in teaching?
Why aren't people asking me about consulting?
Why don't people see me as someone who could do something different?
Here's the uncomfortable answer:
You can't blame people for putting you in a box if you've never shown them anything outside the box.
People aren't mind readers.
They know the version of you that you've given them.
If you want them to understand more about what you can contribute, you have to show them.
Not by suddenly declaring yourself an expert.
By consistently demonstrating what you know.
Don't Manufacture a New Identity
This is also where reintroduction can go wrong.
I've seen people decide they want to move into a different area and suddenly their entire online identity changes overnight.
Yesterday, they barely mentioned leadership.
Today, they're a leadership expert.
Last month, they weren't talking about career development.
Now they're a career coach.
That's not what I'm suggesting.
Your reintroduction needs receipts.
Ask yourself:
What have I actually done?
That's where credibility comes from.
If I want to talk about career development, I should be able to point to years of hiring, supervising, mentoring, networking and helping people navigate the profession.
If I want to talk about relationship building, there should be evidence that I've spent years building and maintaining relationships.
If I want to teach, I should be able to demonstrate that I've helped other people learn.
Your next professional identity shouldn't be something you manufacture.
It should be something your experiences have earned.
The Reintroduction Audit
If you've reached a point where you feel like your professional identity no longer represents everything you can contribute, try this exercise.
I call it the Reintroduction Audit.
It starts with four questions.
1. What Are You Known For?
Don't answer with what you hope people think.
Ask what they actually think.
If I called five people you've worked with and asked:
"What is this person really good at?"
What would they say?
Maybe it's communication.
Maybe it's organization.
Maybe it's solving problems.
Maybe it's developing people.
Maybe it's building relationships.
Maybe it's creating content.
Maybe it's leadership.
Whatever the answers are, write them down.
That's your current professional reputation.
2. What Else Are You Good At?
Now look beyond your job description.
What have you learned because you've spent years doing the work?
A veteran athletic communicator, for example, isn't simply someone who knows how to write a game recap.
They may also understand crisis communication, project management, event operations, leadership, personnel management, storytelling, media relations, technology, mentoring and dozens of other skills.
Your job title may tell people what department you work in.
It doesn't necessarily tell them what you know.
Make that list too.
You may be surprised by how much you've accumulated.
3. What Do You Want People Calling You About?
This may be the most important question.
What opportunities do you want?
Speaking?
Teaching?
Mentoring?
Consulting?
Leadership?
A different role?
Committee work?
Something completely outside your current industry?
Be specific.
Because saying, "I'm open to opportunities," isn't much of a strategy.
If you don't know what you want people to think of you for, they certainly won't know either.
4. Where Is the Evidence?
Now comes the test.
Look at your last 10 LinkedIn posts.
Look at your bio.
Look at your website.
Look at your resume.
Think about the conversations you've had recently.
Do those things support what you said in Question 3?
If you want people to see you as a mentor but never talk about developing people, there's a disconnect.
If you want speaking opportunities but never share ideas publicly, there's a disconnect.
If you want people to see you as a leader but your professional presence only talks about tasks you've completed, there's a disconnect.
The solution isn't to announce a new brand.
Start showing the work.
Your Experience Has More Than One Use
I think this is particularly important for people who have been in their careers for a long time.
At some point, experience has to become more than something we list chronologically on a resume.
It should become something we can give away.
The mistakes become lessons.
The relationships become connections we can make for someone else.
The failures become warnings.
The successes become examples.
The experiences become stories.
And the knowledge becomes something we can teach.
That's one reason I've become increasingly interested in career readiness and professional development.
It's also part of the thinking behind GetSET2Connect.
I'm not trying to walk away from athletic communications.
Quite the opposite.
I'm asking:
What can more than 26 years in this profession teach someone who is just getting started?
How can those experiences help somebody write a better resume?
Prepare for an interview?
Build genuine relationships?
Ask better questions?
Handle rejection?
Figure out whether an opportunity is actually right for them?
Stay connected with people after meeting them?
Understand that networking isn't collecting contacts but building relationships?
Those lessons came from athletic communications.
Now they can serve another purpose too.
You Don't Have to Leave Something Behind to Grow
This might be the biggest lesson I've learned from thinking about all of this.
Growth doesn't always require leaving something behind.
Sometimes it means adding another layer.
You can be an athletic communicator and a mentor.
A coach and an educator.
A marketer and a teacher.
An administrator and a speaker.
A journalist and a consultant.
Your professional identity doesn't have to fit neatly inside one box.
But people won't automatically understand all those layers.
You have to help them see them.
That happens through what you write about.
What you talk about.
What you volunteer for.
Who you help.
What problems you solve.
What questions you ask.
And what you consistently contribute.
Over time, the introduction starts changing.
Not because you've suddenly become someone else.
Because people finally have a clearer picture of who you've become.
Maybe It's Time to Open the Box
Which brings me back to those shoes.
This morning, I was looking everywhere for the pair I expected to wear.
The familiar pair.
The pair that fit the picture I had in my head for how I was supposed to show up on the first day of classes.
I couldn't find them.
So I opened a box and put on something new.
I'm still the same person.
I'm still walking onto the same campus.
I'm still doing work that matters to me.
I'm just wearing a different pair of shoes.
Maybe there's a career lesson in that.
Sometimes we're so busy searching for the version of ourselves that we've always known that we overlook the version that's already sitting there waiting for us.
You don't have to throw away the old shoes.
And you certainly shouldn't pretend you've suddenly become someone completely different.
But maybe it's okay to put on the new pair and let people see another side of you.
So here's the question I've been asking myself, and I'll leave it with you:
If I asked 10 people in your professional network what you're good at, would their answers match what you want the next chapter of your career to look like?
If the answer is yes, keep building.
If the answer is no, don't panic.
Stop reinventing yourself. Start reintroducing yourself.
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