You Laugh Too Loud

How much of yourself can you really bring to work?

Having worked in corporate Human Resources for a few years, I’m all too familiar with the concept of bringing your “whole self” to work.

The idea is to be the entirety of who you are at work. You don’t have a “work self” that’s different from your “home self” that’s different from your “family self” that’s different from… you get the picture. You are the same person with your colleagues as you are with your partner and two kids at home.

I used to be all for this concept. I’ve always fervently believed that I should be the fullest expression of myself with everyone, in every context. Anything less feels disingenuous. It feels like I’m pretending, hiding parts of myself to fit in better at work, with friends, at home, etc.

To the point where a simple “warning” from a well-meaning colleague that others across the floor felt I was “laughing too loud” (and thereby supposedly disturbing their work) made me feel so stifled, so oppressed that it precipitated my handing in the white envelope.¹

At my more recent workplaces, I’ve always been careful not to inhibit myself, to say what I want to say, to write what I want to write, to laugh when I want to laugh.²

But here and there I’ve been triggered to rethink this position that one should always bring one’s whole self to work. As a team leader, I’ve had to temper my directness to cater to a team member’s predilections so as to avoid offending them. As a team member, I’ve been told on more than one occasion that one thing I need to do better is to know when to rein myself in, to be a little less me.

Bringing your whole self to work sounds really good on paper. But is it feasible? Can it hurt you, even?

Let’s take the example of the quiet introvert in a team of extraverts that maybe half of us can identify with. If said introvert were to be the same at work as they were at home, they would contentedly sit quietly and listen to others in meetings. They wouldn’t want to butt in to a heated discussion, expending their energy on exhausting social interactions.

What would happen to this introvert? Will other team members and their manager be understanding of their lack of engagement in team meetings? Or will they chalk it up to disinterest and/or incompetence?

If the introvert happens to have great ideas but can never find the space to speak up, what happens to those great ideas and their opportunities for promotion?

How does an introvert excel in a workplace of extraverts if they choose to act the same way at work as they would at home, to be in their comfort zone?

The mainstream view of introverts these days is that they have powerful qualities which, once harnessed, can catapult them to success. Even greater success than the wee extraverted ones.

But harnessing one’s qualities as an introvert to stand out in a world of extraverts is a far cry from simply being one’s introverted self, fully, at work. Which begs the question: what happens to introverts who bring their whole selves to work?

On the scale of introversion versus extraversion, I probably fall somewhere in the middle. On the scale of listener versus talker, I’m firmly placed in the listener’s camp.

If I had my way, I’d be that quiet one, contentedly sitting through meeting after meeting hearing others’ ideas, never offering up a piece of my mind. But that would take me nowhere. My ideas would languish in the dark recesses of my mind, a promotion an impossibility.

For the past four years, I’ve had to constantly fight my tendency to sit back and listen, to force myself to speak up, butt in. Even when I don’t want to. And this practice, as grating as it is, has served me well.

I’ve even gotten rather good at it and as a result am enjoying it more. This habit of speaking up and butting in is becoming a part of who I am, molded into my ever-shifting identity.

But that’s not who I was. Instead of bringing my whole self to work, I was adapting my home self into a work self that would succeed in the corporate world, and the price was doing something I wouldn’t do if I were the full expression of me.

So again, the question: How much of yourself can you really bring to work? How many meetings can you sit quietly through until you’re pulled aside and asked to speak up? How loud can you laugh?

Over the years, I’m beginning to lean more towards: not very much at all.

How about you? Let me know your thoughts in the comments or by simply replying to this email.

Until next Friday… Stay cool, stay safe, stay thoughtful,

Val

1. There were other extenuating circumstances—me being manic was one—but the “you laugh too loud” incident figured very prominently in my decision.

2. I have yet to be told again that I laugh too loud. Maybe it was the acoustics.