A couple of months ago, my beautiful Mum came across a box, where she’d carefully kept every business card I’d ever had – from being a Rotary exchange student when I was in high school, through to my most recent one – Joint Managing Director at TravelEdge.

Only a Mum does that, right?  Luckily there were a few missing – like the business card that read “Deckhand on an Arms Dealer’s Yacht” in the South of France and “Cocktail Waitress in a Mafia Owned Bar’. Some jobs it’s best your Mum doesn’t know about (!!)

But there were some pretty grown up titles in there…

As she was reading them out to me over the phone, she suddenly stopped and said:

“Goodness.  You were so important back then”.

I was what??  Really important back then?

What about now??  And what the hell does “important’ really mean anyway – and in who’s eyes??

Despite being more than a little stung by Mum considering me “insignificant” these days…(it’s OK – she loves me really!!) her comment took me back to my bad old days of Title Tyranny – because I have a long and not so glorious history with needing my identity to be inextricably linked to my title.

Business cards make life easy…  

They’re a traditional status marker.  With one impressive title, we can tell the world who we are.  They’re great – they save us from having to explain out loud how amazing, talented and bloody impressive we are.  They’re an incredible comparison of self-worth – they can intimidate, daunt and threaten – and above all they can effortlessly tell our awe-inspiring story of success.

How cool is that??  Our value to the world all on a tiny piece of cardboard!!

I once worked in a company – that shall remain nameless – where, just as I was leaving, a colleague got a big promotion.  The first thing she did was show me her newly minted business card and say she’d never leave because she finally had a title that people would fear.

Really?  Probably one of the reasons I chose to leave!!

Titles also protect us…

They shield us from being vulnerable.  They protect us from criticism, judgement and critique – after all – if you’ve got a kickass title, then surely, you’re a kickass player in the world, right?  That belief keeps us safe.  We need the title because deep down inside we know we’re never good enough, thin enough, courageous enough, powerful enough…

And I should know!

For years my business card was my complete validation.  My title totally defined me.  My whole identity was tied to my job – in fact, it wasn’t just my identity – my work was my whole purpose and my reason for being.

My card gave me credibility…

It enabled me to be measured, to be recognised and valued.  It told a story of “success” and “achievement” – and of how I desperately wanted the world to see me.  And yes – truth be told – I wanted the world to be just the “teeniest” bit in awe of me!!  OK.  I admit it!

Without a doubt I was my business card.  And without it I was nothing.

Which was why when I left Qantas to start my own company, I was very lost.  For a long time.  Because it was such a direct hit on my ego.

When you have a grown-up title (especially one from a blue-chip company like some of the airlines I’ve worked for) doors open to you.  People want to talk to you at parties (usually to swing an upgrade) and you are immediately a “person of interest”!  The more “important” my work, the more “important” I was. So cool!!

But when you start a company that no-one has ever heard of “What’s Travel Eggs??”…no TravelEDGE (!!) instantly your “Achiever Rating” takes a spectacular dive.  Overnight you go from being someone to be reckoned with, to being a nothing – a zip – a zero – someone of very little worth based on your very “unimpressive” title.

Or so I thought!

And sadly, I thought it for a long time.  We’d only been in business for about 18 months, when I ran into an ex-colleague.  She’d previously been a member on my team, but after I’d left the company, she’d completely leapfrogged me and seriously smashed the glass ceiling.  Her role was impressive – and she had the card to match…which of course she couldn’t wait to give me!

Bitter, twisted and seriously disillusioned, I stormed back to my office, slammed her card on my business partner Grant’s desk and raged:

“Look…look at that title!!  That could have been me!!!!”

Thank God for amazing business partners!  Grant very calmly picked up the card, lit a match and slowly, we watched the card burn.

His response?

“Look…you can call yourself whatever you want.  You can call yourself Grand PooBah, or Supreme               Illustrious Commander for all I care…it doesn’t matter what you call yourself…it matters who you are.”

Oh.

But sadly – I didn’t learn the lesson…although I did give myself a spectacular title to make me feel better as I swept the business card ashes into the bin!

As our business grew…so did my ego…

In fact, I think it grew in direct proportions!!   As we became more “successful” to the outside world, once again my title told a story.  Finally!  I was back!!  I was a heavy hitter, and I had the card to prove it!  Get out of my way!

My title was an integral part of who I was.  We were inseparable, my trusty title and me.

But when I chose to walk away from my company a few years ago, once again I was lost.  If I wasn’t the CEO of a successful company, who was I?  If I didn’t have a title to show the outside world what I’d achieved, how could I prove my worth?  How could my value be measured?  Now that my title was gone, would I still be the same person?

Turns out the outside world didn’t give a damn…  

I was the only one that did.

After leaving TravelEdge, in an effort to discover who I was without a business card, I jumped on my motorbike and travelled through the US and Canada for a few months.

When I was on the road the people that I met continually asked me what I did for a living.  For the first few weeks of the journey I went straight into the story that kept me safe– the one that let people know that although I looked homeless cruising on a motorbike, I was still a serious player:

“Well I have a company…blah blah blah…”

But eventually I realised two things…Number One that they didn’t care and Number Two – neither did I!  It stunned me to realise that I was telling the old story out of habit – and that after years of clinging to it – external validation wasn’t important to me anymore.  Hardly surprising when you’re covered in dust and sweat and constantly look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards!

None of the people that I met on the road knew my history…

None of them were aware of what I’d “achieved”.  None of them cared about my business card, my title or my role.  On the road that meant nothing.  The only thing that mattered was who I was – right then and there in the moment of time.

The only thing that mattered was how I engaged with the world – how I connected, how I chose to show up.  How I made people feel.

How long had it taken me to learn that lesson?

Finally – after months on the road – I realised that my business card was just that – it was a piece of paper.  It was not who I am.

My journey taught me that my identity is not tied to my role…  

I am not defined or validated by my title.  I am loved for who I am not what I do or the “success” I’ve achieved.  Besides – those “successes” are fleeting – and they’re not the ones that give me joy.

Sure – my title says what I do – but it doesn’t say who I am.  It’s just a role that I play.  It gives no measure to what’s really important – what my values are, how I choose to listen to my heart, or the person I am trying to be.

It doesn’t tell my story – it doesn’t tell the story of hopes and dreams, of triumphs and knock backs, of getting it right and getting it horribly wrong…of all the “character building” moments that have made me who I am today.

My role is purely external.  It lets people believe what they want to believe.  It shows the world what they want to see. It doesn’t show them me.

But validation comes from within…  

Self-worth has nothing to do with craft or calling – but everything to do with how I treat myself and others…and the values I choose to live by. I don’t need a title in order to believe in my worth.  My worth is internal.

What matters to me – and to the people that count – is not my business card.  What matters is who I am.  And despite the fact that it’s very convenient – because now I don’t have one – who I am is just fine without a title!