Reflections on Connection-Centered Leadership - Issue No. 37: When Exceptional Capacity Becomes Expected Capacity
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should” has been a pretty common phrase I’ve used in my adult life. It encompasses a wide array of things, from not buying the more expensive option just because you have the money to lifestyle choices like staying up too late on devices, or even what food choices are made, and it facilitates conversations with teen children about where they’re going.
Lately, I’ve realized how apt that is for the choices I make about my capacity.
I can see how we’re trained early on to keep taking on more than others. I can see the conditioning begin clear back in elementary school when the quiet girl who was a great student was given “special” tasks like filing other children’s tests (giving another child access to private information like test scores, middle names, and other personal info is a wild concept when you think about it) because all of her work was already done and before the red pen even came out the outcome of 100% was predicted.
Perhaps that is why a rebellious streak emerged in the teen years, in an effort to overturn the earned moniker of “teacher’s pet.” Although, is it really special treatment when more work is added beyond what is expected for others?
Sometimes, yes.
As a mother, I advocate for each child to take responsibility for their own account and work to their capacity. When you have neurodivergence and dyslexia, different ways of excelling in different classes are the norm, though no one got a pass.
But how does that translate to teamwork?
In College Chemistry, my lab partner did all the heavy lifting, literally, and I basically recorded the results. Not my finest academic moment. Years later, I lamented that some things never change: in my Ph.D. program, there was always one or two in every group project who either didn’t show up or barely contributed.
Workplace teams demonstrate the same phenomenon. I think the most notable meme-style concept here is the image of three construction workers watching as one person digs a hole. The seeming imbalance of effort throws us off. Perhaps it’s a waste of resources, perhaps it is a strategic process of rotating through turns, giftings, or sequential roles in execution, or who knows. But we are often affronted by the common phrase that 20% of people do 80% of the work.
So if you are a 20-percenter or a go-getter who is in the top 10%, congratulations. You have exceptional capacity. You’ve been told you have a good work ethic. Words like dependable, dedicated, meticulous, and reliable are descriptors in many job performance reports.
People count on you to do good work, on time, and execute at a high level. All of that builds a really good reputation, increases marketability, and opens opportunities. But after years of operating with exceptional capacity that becomes expanded capacity that becomes expected capacity, do you even notice when capacity has reached an untenable limit?
Or when rest has become a foreign concept capable of producing negative feelings like guilt and shame around something that is actually good and required for all of us?
Much like Maverick in the picture above.
Maverick is an 18-month-old Belgian Malinois, a breed developed for work and known for its drive, athleticism, and alertness. He can go from the position pictured above to full throttle in seconds.
But lying on the chair doesn't make him less capable. His capacity still exists when he isn't using all of it.
Many of us operate as though the same cannot be true of us. We push through too few hours of sleep, too little sunlight and recreation, and too little margin, believing somehow that we require less because we've repeatedly demonstrated that we can function with less. Our bodies and nervous systems eventually tell the truth our minds have become very good at negotiating around.
I had a rather ridiculous demonstration of this over the last 36 hours.
I drove six hours to Arkansas Sunday night, slept about four and a half hours, spent Monday creating a video of our property for potential buyers, and then drove six hours home. This morning, my calendar didn't particularly care what I'd done the day before.
Could I do it?
Apparently.
I know I can because I've operated at maximum capacity too many times to count. But that's a different question from whether I should build a life that requires me to do it regularly.
I think high-capacity people can get into trouble here because exceptional performance tends to reset expectations. We handle the crisis, so we become the person called for the next crisis. We take on the extra assignment because we can complete it, and eventually it quietly becomes part of the job.
Somewhere along the way, exceptional capacity becomes expected capacity. And sometimes we're the ones doing the expecting. Sometimes we've internalized the expectation so thoroughly that nobody has to ask anymore.
We anticipate the need and fill it. We see the gap and step into it. We know something needs to be done, and decide it will be faster or easier to simply do it ourselves. Eventually, other people may not need to overload us because we've become quite proficient at doing it on their behalf.
The evidence seems compelling. We keep pulling it off. But “I handled it” is not necessarily evidence that the load was sustainable.
Maybe the better question isn't simply "Can I do this?"
Maybe it is, "What will carrying this require of me, and is that cost appropriate for what I'm being asked to carry?" That requires awareness.
Connection-Centered Leadership begins there because we cannot lead ourselves well while remaining disconnected from the person doing the leading.
We can become so accustomed to overriding fatigue, disappointment, hunger, emotion, the need for movement, the need for stillness, or simply the awareness that we have reached our limit that we stop receiving information from ourselves altogether. We become exceptionally good at execution and increasingly disconnected from the person executing.
Reconnecting begins vertically. Not every need is my assignment. Not every opportunity is mine to pursue. Not everything I am capable of carrying is something God has asked me to carry. Am I willing to accept my human constraints?
That requires enough stillness to distinguish between calling and capability. Sometimes my ability to solve a problem is simply evidence that I possess a particular skill. It isn't necessarily an instruction to solve every problem that requires it.
Then comes the inward connection. What is my actual capacity right now? Not what was I capable of ten years ago. Not what could I force myself to accomplish if absolutely necessary. Not what I wish I had capacity for, or what other people will think if I say no.
What is true now?
There are seasons when we have greater capacity and seasons when life consumes some of it before the workday even begins. Leading ourselves well requires enough awareness to account for the whole person rather than evaluating ourselves solely by output.
Vertical and inward reconnection gives us clarity and affirms our worth outside of performance. With these connections in place, they serve as a kind of guardrail for our decisions and output.
And then we reconnect outwardly, understanding that leading well includes collaboration and cooperation, even if it may be more "efficient" to "just do it ourselves."
This is where leaders have a particular responsibility.
When someone consistently performs at a high level, it is easy to reward competence with more work. The reliable person gets another responsibility because we know they'll handle it.
The person who rescued the last project becomes the obvious choice when the next one gets into trouble.
Eventually, we can punish competence without ever intending to and call it being a team player.
A person's maximum capacity should not automatically become our expectation of their normal capacity.
There will be seasons that require extraordinary effort. Families have them. Organizations have them. Leaders have them. Sometimes we really do need to surge, stay late, make the drive, solve the crisis, or carry more than we would choose under ordinary circumstances.
The ability to do that is valuable.
The problem comes when surge capacity becomes the operating model.
If extraordinary effort is required every day, it isn't extraordinary anymore. If a team can only meet expectations by continually functioning at its maximum capacity, there is no margin for the unexpected, much less creativity, learning, relationships, or growth.
And if rest produces guilt because there is always something else we could be doing, perhaps the issue isn't our capacity at all.
Perhaps we've confused the constant use of our capacity with its stewardship.
I think that's why I like the picture of Maverick.
He isn't depleted. He isn't incapable. He isn't waiting until he has nothing left before allowing his body to be still.
He's resting on the arm of a chair with those unmistakable Malinois ears still upright, completely himself and completely capable.
His capacity hasn't gone anywhere. Neither has ours.
Maybe leading ourselves well includes recognizing that capacity is something to steward, not something we are required to prove over and over again.
And maybe leading others well means refusing to turn someone's exceptional capacity into the price they must continually pay for being exceptional.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
Apparently, that applies to more than expensive purchases and teenagers staying out too late.
Sometimes it applies to how much of our capacity we expect ourselves, and others, to use simply because it's there.
Questions I'm Sitting With This Week
How often am I allowing rest in my routine? How do I feel when resting or recreating?
Am I evaluating my capacity by what I can force myself to accomplish or by what I can sustainably carry?
Where have I internalized an expectation so thoroughly that no one has to ask anymore?
As a leader, parent, partner, or colleague, am I rewarding someone's competence by continually giving them more to carry?
What might change if I treated my capacity as something to steward rather than something I have to continually prove?
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