The Manager Who Stopped Chasing Approval—and Won

Working to Make Others Proud Can Be a Waste of Time

Stop chasing validation that was never guaranteed. Build something you’re proud of instead.

Internal dashboards showed strong quarter-over-quarter gains. Revenue was up roughly 18% year-over-year, and CSAT posted its best results in the past two quarters. The team hit every target.

Jake felt nothing.

His eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Shawn, the CEO, typed on his phone. The man hadn’t looked up once during the entire presentation. Jake’s chest tightened. All those late nights, missed dinners, weekends spent refining processes—and Shawn couldn’t even pretend to care.

The Trap of External Validation

Three months earlier, Jake had overheard Shawn talking to the board. “We need leaders who deliver exceptional results,” Shawn had said. “People who go beyond expectations.”

Those words became Jake’s north star. He restructured his entire department. Implemented new systems. Pushed his team harder than ever before. Every decision filtered through one question: Would this impress Shawn?

The morning after the presentation, Jake found himself in the break room with Jenney, his operations manager. She stirred her coffee slowly, watching him.

“You killed it yesterday,” she said.

Jake shrugged. “Shawn barely noticed.”

“Since when do you work for Shawn’s approval?”

The question hung between them. Jake wanted to say he didn’t, but the lie wouldn’t form. Everything he’d done for months had been designed to earn that nod of recognition from the corner office.

Jenney set down her mug. “You know what’s funny? My first job, I had this boss named David. Tough guy. Never satisfied. I worked myself into the ground trying to get one compliment from him.”

“Did you get it?”

“Eventually. Took two years. Know what he said when I finally got promoted? ‘Good job, but don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a lot to learn.'”

Jake winced.

“That’s when I realized something,” Jenney continued. “David had already decided who I was the day I walked in. Young, inexperienced, needed constant pushing. No achievement was going to change that story in his head. I was just a character in his narrative, not my own.”

The Customer Who Changed Everything

Two days later, Jake received an email that would shift his entire perspective. A customer named Elena had written directly to him, bypassing the standard support channels.

“Jake, I wanted you to know what the changes meant for us. We were losing money on returns due to shipping errors. After your new verification step, our error rate dropped by about 90% based on our own tracking. We had been considering closing; now we’re planning to expand. Thank you.”

Jake read it three times.

Elena didn’t know about Shawn. She didn’t care about board presentations or quarterly metrics. She cared about one thing: Jake’s team had solved her problem.

He walked down to the warehouse floor where Tom, his logistics supervisor, was reviewing shipment logs.

“Got a minute?” Jake asked.

Tom looked up, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Remember that verification system you suggested? The one I initially shot down because I thought it was too simple?”

“Yeah?”

“A customer just told me it saved her business.”

Tom’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Really. And I realized something. I’ve been so focused on impressing people who might never be impressed that I almost missed the chance to do something that actually mattered.”

The Mentor’s Question

That afternoon, Jake had his monthly check-in with Carol, his mentor from his previous company. They met at a quiet café downtown, away from the office noise.

“You sound different,” Carol observed after Jake recounted the week’s events.

“I feel different. Stupid, but different.”

Carol smiled. “Not stupid. Human. Let me ask you something. When you started in this role, what did you want to accomplish?”

Jake thought back to his first day. “I wanted to build a department that ran so smoothly, customers never had to think about logistics. Invisible excellence.”

“And have you done that?”

“According to our metrics, yes.”

“According to you?”

Jake paused. The truth was, he’d been so busy chasing Shawn’s approval that he’d stopped measuring his work against his own standards. He’d abandoned his vision for someone else’s validation.

“I need to get back to that,” Jake said quietly.

Carol leaned forward. “There’s a quote I love from Howard Thurman: ‘There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself.’ The moment you stop listening for that sound and start listening only for applause, you lose your way.”

The Weekly Review That Never Happened

The following Monday, Jake was scheduled to present weekly updates to Shawn. He’d prepared his usual deck—fifteen slides of granular detail designed to showcase every minor win.

Shawn’s assistant called five minutes before the meeting. “He needs to reschedule. Something came up.”

Old Jake would have been devastated. New Jake felt… free.

He gathered his team instead. “Change of plans. Instead of reviewing numbers, I want to hear what you’re proud of from last week. Not what hit targets or impressed anyone. What made you personally satisfied?”

Tom spoke first. “I figured out why packages to the Northeast were taking an extra day. Tiny routing error in the system. Fixed it myself without calling IT.”

Lisa from customer service added, “I spent an hour on the phone with an elderly customer who couldn’t figure out our return process. Walked her through everything. She sent a handwritten thank-you note.”

One by one, they shared moments of genuine pride. Small victories that would never make it into a presentation but meant everything to the people involved.

Jake realized these were the metrics that mattered.

The Performance Review

Six weeks passed. Jake stopped preparing special presentations for Shawn. He stopped scheduling unnecessary check-ins. He focused on the work itself—solving problems, improving systems, supporting his team.

The annual performance review arrived like a storm warning.

Shawn sat across from Jake, flipping through papers. “Your numbers are good,” he said flatly. “But I don’t see the exceptional leadership I was hoping for. You’ve become… comfortable.”

There it was. The evaluation Jake had feared. The withholding of approval he’d worked so hard to earn.

But instead of devastation, Jake felt clarity.

“Can you define exceptional leadership?” Jake asked.

Shawn looked up, surprised. “Leaders who go above and beyond. Who inspire through example.”

“My team has had no voluntary turnover year-to-date. Customer complaints are down about 60% versus last quarter. We’ve implemented a dozen improvements that came from floor staff, not consultants. If that reads as ‘comfortable,’ I’ll take it.”

Shawn frowned. “I expected more initiative from you.”

“Initiative toward what goal? Your undefined standard of exceptional? Or the actual work of running an efficient department that serves our customers?”

The conversation ended awkwardly. Shawn gave Jake a “meets expectations” rating—not the “exceeds” Jake had chased for months.

Walking back to his office, Jake felt lighter than he had all year.

The Real Recognition

That evening, Jake’s team surprised him with a small celebration in the break room. Nothing fancy—grocery store cake and warm soda. Tom had organized it.

“What’s this for?” Jake asked.

“Elena’s company just placed their biggest order ever,” Lisa explained. “She specifically requested that our team handle it. Said she trusts us completely.”

“Also,” Tom added, “that verification system we implemented? Three other departments want to adopt it.”

Jake looked around the room at his team. They weren’t celebrating because someone important had noticed. They were celebrating because they’d built something that worked.

Jenney caught his eye and raised her soda can. “To doing work that matters, not work that just looks good in presentations.”

Everyone toasted. Jake felt a warmth in his chest that no executive approval had ever provided.

The Lesson Crystallizes

Later that night, Jake called Carol.

“I get it now,” he said.

“Get what?”

“Why chasing other people’s pride is a trap. It’s not just that you can’t control their opinion. It’s that their opinion was never about your work in the first place. It’s about their own story, their own biases, their own needs.”

“Go on,” Carol encouraged.

“Shawn sees me as the young manager who needs to prove himself. That narrative won’t change no matter what I achieve. He needs me to be striving and insufficient because it reinforces his role as the demanding leader who pushes people to excellence.”

“And what narrative do you want to live?”

Jake thought about Elena’s email, still saved in his folder. About Tom’s pride in solving problems. About Lisa’s handwritten thank-you note.

“I want to live the narrative where I build something that actually helps people. Where my team feels valued. Where problems get solved not because they’ll look good in a report, but because they need solving.”

“That’s a narrative you control,” Carol said.

The New Standard

Jake implemented changes over the next month, but they weren’t the kind that would impress Shawn.

He started ” Gratification Fridays” where team members shared one thing they’d accomplished that week that made them personally satisfied. No metrics required.

He stopped creating elaborate presentations and invested that time in actually walking the warehouse floor, talking to workers, understanding problems firsthand.

He measured success by customer thank-you notes, not executive head nods.

Most importantly, he started asking himself a different question. Instead of “Will this impress Shawn?” he asked, “Will I be proud of this decision in five years?”

The Unexpected Consequence

Three months into Jake’s new approach, something interesting happened. Other departments started noticing his team’s results. Not the flashy presentations—the actual results.

The head of sales asked how Jake had eliminated customer complaints about shipping errors. The finance team wanted to understand his cost-reduction strategies. Even HR took interest in the fact that the team had no voluntary turnover over the last 12 months.

But here’s what mattered: Jake wasn’t working for their recognition. Their interest was a byproduct, not the goal.

Shawn remained unimpressed. In meetings, he still treated Jake like an inexperienced manager who needed constant oversight. The difference was that Jake no longer cared.

The Client Meeting That Changed Everything

Six months after Jake’s shift in mindset, Elena visited the office. She’d flown in specifically to meet the team that had “saved her business,” as she put it.

Shawn, suddenly interested when a client was involved, inserted himself into the meeting.

“We pride ourselves on exceptional service,” Shawn told Elena, using his polished executive voice. “I personally ensure all our departments maintain the highest standards.”

Elena looked confused. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Shawn Williams, CEO.”

“Oh.” Elena turned back to Jake. “As I was saying, your team’s attention to detail has been life-changing for us. That verification system? Genius. Simple, effective, exactly what we needed.”

Shawn tried to regain control. “Yes, we implemented that as part of our company-wide excellence initiative.”

Elena looked at Tom. “Weren’t you the one who designed it?”

Tom nodded, glancing nervously at Shawn.

“That’s what I thought,” Elena said. She pulled out a small plaque from her bag. “We had this made for your team. It’s nothing fancy, but we wanted you to know that you’re the reason we’re still in business.”

The plaque read: “To the team that solves problems instead of just talking about them.”

Shawn left the meeting early.

The Revelation in the Parking Lot

That evening, Jake found Shawn in the parking lot, loading his briefcase into his Tesla.

“That was embarrassing,” Shawn said coldly.

“What was?”

“A client flying in to thank a middle manager. It makes the rest of us look unnecessary.”

And there it was. The truth Jake had been dancing around for months. Shawn’s withholding of approval wasn’t about Jake’s performance. It was about Shawn’s insecurity.

“With respect,” Jake said carefully, “she thanked us because we helped her. Isn’t that the point?”

Shawn slammed his trunk. “The point is maintaining proper hierarchy. Clients should appreciate the company, not individual teams.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how business works.”

“Or is it because you need to be the hero in every story?”

Shawn’s face darkened. “Watch yourself, Jake.”

But Jake wasn’t afraid anymore. What was Shawn going to do? Fire him for being too effective? For having customers who appreciated his work?

“I spent months trying to make you proud of me,” Jake said. “But I realized something. Your pride was never available. You need me to be reaching for it, because that’s how you maintain control. The moment I stop reaching, you lose power over me.”

Shawn got in his car without responding. But Jake saw the truth in his eyes. They both knew Jake was right.

The Team Meeting That Mattered

The next morning, Jake called a team meeting.

“I owe you all an apology,” he started. “For the past year, I’ve been managing up instead of leading forward. I’ve been so focused on impressing executives that I forgot why we’re here.”

The room was quiet.

“We’re here to solve problems. To help customers. To make each other’s jobs easier. That’s it. That’s the whole mission. And from now on, that’s our only standard.”

Lisa raised her hand. “What about Shawn? What about the board?”

“They’ll evaluate us however they want. We can’t control that. But we can control whether we’re proud of our work. Whether we sleep well knowing we did something useful today. Whether customers like Elena trust us with their business.”

Tom spoke up. “So we’re just ignoring upper management?”

“No. We’re doing our jobs so well that upper management becomes irrelevant to our success. There’s a difference.”

The New Culture Takes Root

Over the following weeks, something shifted in the department. The nervous energy that had permeated every meeting—that constant worry about how things would “look” to leadership—dissipated.

People started solving problems without asking permission. They collaborated without worrying about who would get credit. They celebrated small wins without needing executive validation.

The work got better. Not flashier, but better.

Customer satisfaction scores continued climbing. Efficiency improved. Costs dropped. Key metrics Shawn claimed to care about continued to trend up—fewer defects, faster cycle times, and better on-time performance—ironically, after Jake stopped managing toward optics.

The Quarterly Review That Didn’t Matter

Three months later, another quarterly review. Jake presented his standard slides—clean, simple, factual. No elaborate storytelling. No desperate attempts to impress.

Shawn looked bored. “This is it?”

“Our results speak for themselves.”

“I don’t see any innovation here. No bold initiatives.”

Jake thought about mentioning the five new processes his team had implemented, all suggested by front-line workers. The partnership with Elena’s company that had turned into three new clients. The cross-training program that had eliminated bottlenecks.

But he didn’t. Shawn wouldn’t see these as innovations because they hadn’t come with fanfare and executive involvement.

“We’re focused on execution,” Jake said simply.

Shawn gave him another “meets expectations” rating.

Jake filed it away without reading the detailed feedback.

The Offer

Two weeks after the review, Jake received a call from an unexpected source. A competing logistics company had noticed his team’s results—not through presentations or corporate communications, but through customer word-of-mouth.

“We’re looking for a VP of Operations,” the recruiter said. “Your name keeps coming up.”

“Who recommended me?”

“Several of your customers, independently. They said you actually solve problems instead of just managing them.”

Jake took the interview out of curiosity. The CEO, a woman named Patricia, asked unusual questions.

“What accomplishment are you most proud of?”

Jake thought about it. “Teaching my team to trust their own judgment. They don’t need me to validate every decision anymore. They know good work when they do it.”

“What’s your biggest failure?”

“I spent a year trying to impress someone who had already decided I wasn’t impressive. Wasted energy that could have gone toward actual improvements.”

Patricia smiled. “When can you start?”

The Decision

Jake didn’t take the job immediately. He spent a week thinking about what he wanted, not what would look good or impress anyone, but what would make him proud.

He thought about his team. About the culture they’d built. About the customers who relied on them.

He thought about Shawn, still sending passive-aggressive emails about “lacking innovation” while Jake’s department quietly outperformed every target.

He thought about Elena’s plaque, now hanging in the break room where everyone could see it.

In the end, the decision was simple. He would go where his work would matter, where problems needed solving, where his own standards could guide him.

He took the new position.

The Exit That Revealed Everything

On Jake’s last day, Shawn called him into his office.

“I’m disappointed,” Shawn said. “I invested a lot in developing you.”

Jake almost laughed. “What investment? You barely acknowledged our achievements.”

“I was pushing you to be better.”

“No, you were maintaining a power dynamic. There’s a difference.”

Shawn’s jaw tightened. “You’ll never succeed with that attitude.”

“I already have succeeded. My team runs like clockwork. Our customers love us. I’m proud of what we built. The only place I failed was in your eyes, and I’ve realized your eyes were never looking at my actual work.”

“You’re making a mistake leaving.”

“Maybe. But it’ll be my mistake, based on my values, pursuing my definition of success.”

Jake stood to leave, then turned back. “You know what’s sad? If you’d ever once said ‘good job’ and meant it, I might have stayed. But you couldn’t, because admitting I was doing well would mean admitting you weren’t essential to my success.”

The Lesson in Practice

At his new company, Jake implemented a radical policy: no managing up. Performance was measured by customer impact and team development, period. Executive approval was neither sought nor celebrated.

His first all-hands meeting set the tone.

“I don’t care if I’m proud of you,” Jake told his new team. “I care if you’re proud of yourselves. My job is to remove obstacles so you can do work that matters to you.”

A hand shot up. “What about the board? What about shareholders?”

“They’ll evaluate us based on results. But we don’t work for their approval. We work to solve problems. The approval, if it comes, is a byproduct.”

The culture shift was immediate. People stopped posturing in meetings. They stopped creating elaborate presentations for simple updates. They focused on the work itself.

Within six months, Jake’s division had become one of the company’s top-performing units on profitability. Patricia noticed, of course, but her recognition wasn’t why Jake succeeded. He succeeded because he’d finally learned to measure his work against his own standards.

The Full Circle

A year into his new role, Jake received an unexpected LinkedIn message from Jenney, his old operations manager.

“Thought you should know—Shawn was replaced last month. Word around the company was that leadership wanted to focus less on optics and more on operations. The new CEO’s first move? Rolling out many of the ‘simple’ innovations you and Tom developed. Funny how that works.”

Jake felt no satisfaction in Shawn’s downfall. If anything, he felt sad. Shawn had spent so much energy maintaining his self-image as the essential leader that he’d forgotten to actually lead.

But that was Shawn’s lesson to learn, not Jake’s to teach.

Jake closed LinkedIn and walked down to his warehouse floor. His team was troubleshooting a shipping delay, working together without waiting for his input or approval.

He watched them work, these people who’d learned to trust their own judgment, to take pride in their own achievements, to measure success by problems solved rather than impressions made.

This was what he was proud of. Not because anyone else valued it, but because he did.

The Final Truth

Carol had sent him a book recently with a note: “This reminded me of our conversations.”

One passage was highlighted: “The moment you make someone else’s opinion your North Star, you lose your own navigation. You’ll wander in whatever direction their approval points, even if it leads nowhere you actually want to go.”

Jake kept the quote on his desk, not for inspiration, but as a reminder. Every decision, every project, every day, he asked himself the same question: “Will I be proud of this?”

Not will they be proud. Will I?

The question made all the difference.

A new employee once asked him for career advice. “How do I get executives to notice my work?”

“Wrong question,” Jake replied. “Ask how you can do work you’d notice. Work you’d remember. Work that would make you, five years from now, say ‘I’m glad I did that.'”

“But what about promotions? Recognition?”

Jake pointed to Elena’s plaque, which he’d brought to his new office. “Recognition from someone whose problem you solved beats approval from someone whose ego you fed. Every time.”

The employee looked skeptical. Jake understood. He’d been there, chasing shadows of approval that were never really available, working to make others proud when their pride was never truly on offer.

“Here’s what I learned,” Jake said. “People’s opinions of you are preset stories they’re telling themselves. Your achievements might get a footnote in their narrative, but you’ll never be the main character. You’ll always be the supporting actor in their story about themselves.”

“That’s depressing.”

“No, it’s liberating. Once you realize you can’t control their story, you’re free to write your own. And in your story, you get to define what success looks like.”

The Rule of Thumb

Years later, when Jake had built one of the most successful operations divisions in the industry, business schools would ask him to speak about leadership. He always declined the fancy titles they proposed—“Visionary Leadership in Modern Logistics” or “Innovation Through Employee Empowerment.”

Instead, he gave the same talk every time: “Do Work You’re Proud Of.”

The message was simple. Almost too simple for academics who wanted complex frameworks and multi-step methodologies.

“Every decision you make,” Jake would tell rooms full of MBA students, “ask yourself one question: Will I be proud of this? Not will my boss be proud, not will my parents be proud, not will LinkedIn be proud. Will I be proud?”

“That seems selfish,” a student once challenged.

“Is it? When I focused on making myself proud, I built a team that serves customers better than ever. When I chased my boss’s approval, I built elaborate presentations that helped no one. Which was actually more selfish?”

The student had no answer.

Jake would end every talk the same way: “There’s a simple rule of thumb: The person whose pride you’re working for should be the same person who has to live with the consequences of that work. That person is you.”

Lesson Insights

1) Control what you can control.
You can’t control someone else’s opinion. You can control your effort, your standards, and your results.

2) External approval is a moving target.
When approval becomes the goal, the goal keeps shifting. That creates anxiety, not progress.

3) Pride is an internal compass.
A simple test—Will I be proud of this in five years?—keeps choices aligned with your values.

4) Measure what helps people.
Track outcomes that matter to customers, users, or teammates. Vanity metrics fade. Real impact sticks.

5) Narratives are sticky.
People often carry preset stories about you. Your best move is to do work that stands on its own, regardless of those stories.

6) Recognition is a byproduct.
When you solve important problems, respect tends to follow. Let it arrive on its own schedule.

Best Practices

Set your personal standard.
Write one paragraph that defines “work I’m proud of.” Make it specific and actionable.

Adopt a five-year filter.
Before major decisions, ask: Would future-me be proud of this choice?

Choose real metrics.
Pick 3–5 measures tied to outcomes (e.g., error rates down, response time faster, repeat buyers up). Review weekly.

Run a weekly “Proud Moment” ritual.
Each person shares one thing they’re proud of. No slides. No spin. Just the win and why it mattered.

Build feedback loops with the people you serve.
Short surveys, quick interviews, or support notes. Make it easy for them to tell you what actually helped.

Document improvements, not performances.
Keep a simple log: problem → action → result → evidence. This is better than a showy update.

Share credit, own responsibility.
Credit builds trust. Ownership builds reliability. Both make you proud of your leadership.

Make visibility honest, not theatrical.
When you must report up, present the problem, the fix, and the outcome—brief and factual.

Protect focus.
Say “no” (or “not now”) to work that exists only to impress. Say “yes” to work that improves outcomes.

Checklist

Use this quick list at the start or end of the week.

Weekly Gratification Check

• Did we pick one problem that matters to customers or teammates?
• Did we act on it quickly and simply?
• Can we show evidence of improvement (even small)?
• Did we capture the result in our improvement log?
• Did we share credit fairly?
• What will make us proud next week?

Decision Filter (30 seconds)

• Is this for impact or for image?
• What would future-me say about this choice?
• What is the simplest change that would help real people today?

Healthy Visibility

• 3 bullets: problem, action, outcome.
• 1 data point or quote as evidence.
• 1 next step that keeps momentum.

FAQ

Q: Isn’t “make yourself proud” selfish?
A: No. Pride here means holding yourself to useful, ethical standards. When you serve others well, you’ll be proud—and they’ll benefit.

Q: What if my boss demands frequent updates?
A: Provide them—brief and honest. Use the “problem → action → outcome” format. Keep the focus on results, not performance.

Q: How do I avoid becoming invisible if I stop “managing up”?
A: Don’t go silent. Share concise outcomes on a steady cadence. Let results create visibility without theatrics.

Q: What if leadership is unsupportive?
A: Keep your standards, collect evidence of impact, and protect your team. If the gap stays wide, explore roles where your standards fit.

Q: How do I balance high standards with team well-being?
A: Aim for steady progress, not constant intensity. Celebrate small wins. Pace the work. Sustainable pride beats burnout.

Q: What if I’m new and don’t know what to be proud of yet?
A: Start small. Fix one friction point each week. Track outcomes. Pride grows from repeated useful actions.

Q: How do we measure “pride” without getting fuzzy?
A: Pair it with proof: fewer errors, faster responses, repeat usage, thank-you notes, referrals. Feel good—and show why.

Q: What if I slip back into chasing approval?
A: Notice it. Reset with the five-year question. Pick one concrete problem and solve it today.