Letters from Colleen

All Those Clarinet Lessons, and I Still Can’t Toot My Own Horn

All Those Clarinet Lessons, and I Still Can’t Toot My Own Horn Colleen Honestly title card on cream paper with a muted lavender botanical border.

Honestly,

For all the years I was forced to play the clarinet, you would think I would be better at tooting my own horn.

Apparently, the skills do not transfer.

Ask me to describe my own accomplishments, and suddenly I need a minute. Possibly a worksheet. Ideally, someone who was there and can explain what I did while I sit nearby looking cooperative.

I know I have done meaningful work.

Articulating it is another matter.

There is something uncomfortable about putting myself in the sentence.

“I helped.”

“I built.”

“I figured out.”

Even writing those makes me want to add, “But obviously, there were other people involved.”

There were. Other people deserve credit.

I am also, inconveniently, one of the people.

That seems to be the part I struggle to remember when it is time to explain what I contributed.

I can understand the value of someone else’s patience, judgment, or ability to untangle a problem. When I turn that same attention toward myself, the language gets smaller.

I just helped.

I only handled part of it.

It was really a team effort.

All potentially true. Also remarkably effective ways to leave someone with no idea what I actually did.

The word “just” does a lot of unpaid demolition.

“I just helped with the transition” could mean almost anything. It could mean forwarding an email. It could mean spending months helping people understand what was changing, what came next, and where to go when the answer was not obvious.

Those are different contributions. Neither becomes clearer because we rush past it.

And some work is difficult to describe because the result is something that did not happen.

Confusion that got cleared up before it spread.

A mistake someone caught in time.

A difficult conversation that stayed useful because somebody knew when to stop talking and listen.

There is rarely a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a problem that never became a larger problem.

Still counts.

I think part of my resistance is that I do not want to become someone who takes credit for everything within walking distance.

You know the version.

A team builds the house. One person holds a nail and updates their résumé to “Led residential construction.”

I do not want to be that person.

But I can give a fair account of my work without applying for the position of Most Important Person in the Building.

I can say what the situation required.

I can name what I actually did.

I can explain what changed, while being honest about what I know and what other people contributed.

That is useful information.

For a manager trying to understand my work. For someone considering me for an opportunity. For a colleague who needs to know what I can help with.

And, occasionally, for me.

Because if I keep describing everything I do as “just helping,” I may eventually start believing that is all it was.

So I am practicing leaving myself in the sentence.

Giving other people their credit without handing them mine.

Saying “thank you” when someone notices something I did well, instead of immediately providing three reasons they should reconsider.

I do not expect this to become comfortable overnight.

There were years of clarinet involved, and we have already established the limits of that investment.

But I would like to get better at describing my work clearly enough that someone else can understand it.

No solo required.

Just a little less apologizing for being in the band.

Reflections

1. When I describe my work, where do words like “just” or “only” make my contribution harder to see?

2. What work am I overlooking because it felt routine to me, involved other people, or prevented a problem?

3. What would I say about this contribution if someone I respected had made it?

From the Toolbox

1. Start with what happened. Write three plain sentences: What needed attention? What did I do? What changed? Get the facts down before trying to make them sound impressive.

2. Separate shared success from your part. Try, “Our team accomplished ____. My contribution was ____.” You can recognize both without diminishing either.

3. Check your minimizing words. Read your description without “just,” “only,” or “nothing major.” Keep the version that most accurately describes the work.

4. Keep a small record. Regularly note a completed task, a solved problem, or useful feedback. Include evidence you are allowed to retain, and leave confidential or employer-owned material where it belongs.

5. Practice saying one accomplishment aloud. Use a clear, factual sentence. Let it end. Resist the urge to add a disclaimer that quietly takes it all back.

Honestly,

Colleen

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