More Than A Job Title

I started my conference session with a quick question for a room full of technology leaders. How many of you have an email address, a social media handle, or some other identity online with your organization or your job title in it?

Almost every hand went up.

Then I asked them to do something that sounded simple. Turn to the person next to you and introduce yourself. One rule: no job title and no organization name.

Cue the laughter, the nervous kind. A whisper of “Why is this so hard?” and a “Who am I?” under the breath. In a room full of accomplished leaders, this simple request was somehow not so simple.

The handle I changed on the spot

While prepping for a recent podcast interview, I noticed my guest’s LinkedIn URL was built on his district’s name instead of his own, and it sent me right back to a conference years ago.

At the time, Teacher Twitter (iykyk) was booming, and my Twitter handle was @cmanahanahs. Those last three letters were the initials of the school where I taught, Angola High School. In an after hours conversation, a more experienced speaker gave me some advice that stuck: build your online identity on something that travels with you, since the school might not always be where you are. You are more than your school.

I changed my handle to @leadlaughlearn that evening, right there at the conference.

But I’ll confess I still have the cmanahanahs email account. Some habits have a long shelf life.

We’ve rehearsed the wrong introduction

My conference session was full of leaders who can walk a board through an infrastructure plan, explain a data privacy agreement to a worried parent, and summarize a year of work in a two-minute update. Ask them about their organization and they’re fluent. Ask them about themselves, with the org chart taken away, and the words get harder to find.

It makes sense. Every conference badge, email signature, and “tell us a little about yourself” starts with the title. The hands in that room showed we build our online presence the same way. Those addresses and handles work beautifully until the day the job changes. Then the address people had for you either stops working or points to a place you no longer are.

And titles do change. Reorganizations, promotions, retirements, new roles, sometimes by choice and sometimes not.

What travels with you

The part of your introduction that survives a title change is what people know you for. The problem you’re the first call about. The way you make a hard conversation easier. The thing you can’t stop fixing, even when it isn’t technically yours.

Once the laughter settled, the introductions in that room got better. “I keep calm in the middle of the chaos. I think in systems to make things easier for everyone. I’m the glue that keeps our organization connected for instruction AND operations.”

Nobody needed the title to be impressive. They needed a minute to remember what they bring.

Try it at your desk; you don’t need a conference room for this. Give yourself five minutes:

• Write a two- or three-sentence introduction with no title and no organization.
• Read it out loud. Notice where you reached for the job.
• If you’re stuck, finish one of these: “People call me when…” “I’m the one who…” “The work I’d do even without the title is…”
• Ask someone who has worked with you what they’d come to you for. Compare their answer to yours.
• While you’re at it, look at your LinkedIn URL and the email address people use to reach you. If either only makes sense at your current job, consider a version built on your name.

Keep the version that would still be true in your next role. Your title tells people where to find you on an org chart. What you’re known for is how they find you after it changes.

Titles are on loan. Your introduction is yours to keep.

I’m still working on that cmanahanahs inbox.