Saulo Mohana on Unsplash

It’s 8:30 am and I’m seated at my desk. I’m wearing my brown Cole Haans, Banana Republic slacks and J. Crew button-down. I feel safe in this uniform. It projects a certain confidence. A confidence that comes with fitting in.

In this uniform, at this desk, I have solidified my place in the world. I am a contributing member of society. I am someone my parents can brag about at dinner parties. “Scott’s doing great! He works for one of the big advertising firms downtown.”

9 am comes, and so does the first of many meetings. I stroll into conference room B on the 7th floor ready to discuss strategy and execution and how we’re tracking against our new Agile project management methodology. “We’re doing a reasonable job,” Eric tells us. Eric is the guy with the corner office. “I’m optimistic for the next sprint.”

As everyone is preparing to leave Eric asks me to hang on for just a moment.

I sit back down. There are a few seconds of silence as Eric reviews his notes. I open my notebook and pretend to do the same. Mirroring has worked well for me historically. Ugh, is that a stain at the bottom of my shirt?

“Scott, I’m concerned about your fit with the team.”

My fit with the team? What is he talking about?

Did he miss my exhaustive status update during the meeting? Did he not hear our account director’s compliment of my report formatting? Does he not see my shoes or notice the pattern of my button-down?

All I do is try to fit in. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.

I finished high school. I graduated from a Big Ten university. I moved to an apartment in the city. I got a job with air conditioning and health insurance and casual Friday. I found a partner. I bought a car. I got a better job. And then a better job.

This is fitting in, right?

The next promotion. The next raise. The next job. The next car. Getting married. Having children. Buying a house. The next job. Saving for retirement. Buying a better car. Buying a bigger house. Saving for college. The next job. College. Retirement. Grandkids. Death.

This is fitting in, right?

“…a great team requires alignment of each of its members towards a common goal…”

I daydream sometimes.

About the wind blowing through my hair as I ride my Meteor 350 down a winding road with no destination in mind. About running along my favorite trail as the forest chirps with life. About walking aimlessly along the lakefront as I admire the rising sun. About the business I’d start. About the people I’d meet. About the challenges I’d face and the triumph I’d feel overcoming these challenges.

I have questions. I have thoughts. I have doubts. I have dreams. But they’re foolish pursuits. Sooner or later everyone has to come back to reality. It’s what’s known, it’s what’s done. If you’re not grinding, if you’re not pushing, if you’re not firmly planted inside the box, you’re not doing it correctly.

This is fitting in, right?

In this world, this reality, there’s no time for questions. No time for dreams. No time to consider whether the default path is the best path for you. There’s only time for obedience and compliance and adherence to the default path. This is how you get ahead. This is how you matter. This is how you fit in.

And fitting in is what matters most…right?

Suddenly Eric’s voice re-enters my awareness. “Scott…did you hear me? Are you ok? You blanked for a few seconds there buddy.”

About ten seconds I’d guess.