Delivering More

I had something else planned today. I just finished journaling a different thought, sat on it for hours, tweaked it, rewrote some lines. That was supposed to be the piece I’d share. But then something else came to mind. Something a little louder. So, here we are.

Let’s talk about what happens when your work starts speaking for you. Especially if you’re an IC, a builder, an executionist, someone who delivers.

Here’s the thing: when you start at a company, big or small, it’s all new. You’re new. They’re new. Everyone’s still figuring each other out. The company is taking a chance on you, and you’re doing the same. And in those early months, all you’re trying to do is prove you belong. Not in a desperate way, just in that quiet “watch me work” kind of way.

One year in, you’ve found your rhythm. You’re performing well. You’re in the top 50%. Maybe even better. You’re doing the job and doing it better than most. But they’re not blown away yet. You know it. So you double down. You fix a few gaps, not technical skills necessarily (though those matter too), but the soft stuff. Communication. Empathy. Asking the right questions. The ones that start with “why”, not just “how”. The kind that makes people pause mid-call and go, “Hmm. Good point.”

You keep showing up. And eventually, they notice.

Not just for your output, but for your thinking. Your process. Your discipline. Your willingness to challenge gently, ask kindly, and still execute fiercely. People start trusting you. Not just as someone who can get the work done, but someone who gets it.

And that? That’s the sweet spot: trust.

There’s that old phrase,trust is earned, not given. And suddenly, you realize you’ve earned it. There are whispers about you in rooms you’re not in. Someone says your name and another nods. A person you’ve never spoken to replies, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard good things.” You smile. It’s quiet, but it’s affirming.

But here’s where it gets tricky.

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, they say. And in the workplace? That crown isn’t always gold. Sometimes it’s made of quiet expectations. Of extra pressure no one says out loud. Because once people trust you, they expect more. Even the ones who like you. Especially them.

Your manager becomes more friendly, more relaxed. They trust your work. They count on it. But now, they expect you to deliver more than you did last quarter. And here’s the twist,this expectation? It’s not always clearly communicated. It’s just there. Unspoken. Looming.

You’re pulled in more directions. People want your input. You become the go-to. The reliable one. And slowly, the line between doing your best and carrying too much begins to blur.

And that’s where a lot of people start slipping. Not because they stopped trying, but because the trust they earned becomes the weight they carry. And when the output dips, just a little, it’s noticeable. The whisper becomes, “What happened to them?”

It reminds me of being the teacher’s favorite in school. You’re good at math or chemistry, and they start calling on you to solve problems in class. They trust you to be the proof that the class isn’t failing. And then one day, you flunk a test. The disappointment isn’t just yours, it’s theirs too. Quietly, they pull back. Not out of malice, just out of recalibration. You were the one. Until you weren’t.

That’s how trust works sometimes. It’s not malicious, it’s human.

And honestly? That part sucks.

When I reflect on conversations I’ve had with managers, senior folks, even friends, it’s clear: these dynamics are everywhere. And no, they’re not always political. Sometimes they’re just… messy. Human. There’s performance. There’s perception. And there’s the quiet hope that the people we believe in will keep making us proud.

But that’s a lot to put on one person.

And here’s the thing: sometimes, the best way to return the trust of a good manager isn’t by trying to impress them. It’s by making their job easier. By continuing to perform, not for praise, but out of consistency. Out of care.

Because for leaders who want to be fair, who really want to avoid bias, the only defense they have is performance. And if the person they already trust keeps showing up, keeps delivering—it makes that fairness easier. Cleaner. Defensible.

That’s the part people don’t always talk about.

Maybe they should.

Maybe I just did.

If this speaks to you, welcome to Just Another Day—where the ordinary becomes something else, and where we think out loud about the things no one wants to talk about.