Praise to this Man

So for my MBA, I’ve been studying psychological theories behind motivation. Apparently it is a complicated issue. All this psycho talk got me introspecting. You’re probably familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, shaped as a pyramid with self-actualization at the peak. If I had a shape-based hierarchy it would probably be a shame-filled hexagon or a guilt-ridden trapezoid, meaning I am all over the place.

I’ve heard that my generation, or maybe the one after me, expects ego boosts for every little thing they do because they were raised in such a way that they were constantly reinforced by overzealous parents who in turn were overcompensating for the under-praising they received when they were growing up. Well let me assure you, I want me some praise, but actually receiving praise makes me so very uncomfortable.

When I was in school, if I felt that the praise wasn’t worth the effort (which it usually wasn’t), then there was little motivation, until I reached college and suddenly no one cared either way. So I learned to praise myself, in small doses (pints actually, of the ice cream variety). Then I entered the real world. Now I work hard to do a good job, partially because I like the challenge, partially because I like the sense of accomplishment, plus I really enjoy it, and I like to feel appreciated and needed.

But here is the thing. Praise is this double-edged sword. When I see others get it I naturally feel glad for them, but also maybe a little—well not jealous because that’s not the right term—but maybe a little envious. Never in a way like “I deserve that glass statuette, not you” but more along the lines of “man, I suck. I wish I were the kind of employee that worked that hard.” But then I ask if it is really worth a whole year’s extra effort just for a lopsided piece of glass? Not really. A year is a long time for a five second payoff. And the annual trophy things they give out are not even symmetrical. Plus I feel all jerky just for thinking that I'd want one. Then, and I am not making this up, I feel a little grateful, but slightly paranoid, that no one can read my insane insecure thoughts (they can’t, right?). What would they think about me? (I wouldn’t know because I don’t have telepathy myself). They’d think I was a selfish jerk, that's what. Their imagined reactions can be so cruel, if they were real and not just my delusions.

But here is the other side of that sword. When I do get accolades, I feel all uncomfortable about it. Like I am this stupid fraud and they should know it. Or that I should disagree out of some misplaced sense of politeness but I also don’t want to appear ungrateful either and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it (why can’t I just say thank you and sit down/shut up?). The guilt sets in quick. Because how could I deserve a simple “good job, whatever your name is”? And I get the feeling that any sense of pride on my part is egotistical. And don’t forget about the telepathy paranoia. You know God is listening in.

It’s a painful process either way. So I work hard, grin and bear the praise if any, and repeat. And don’t even get me started on performance reviews. I go in expecting a tongue lashing (that sounds unpleasant doesn’t it?) and if I don’t get one, I leave a little disappointed. If I could just get the right balance of humility and self-esteem. Maybe I am overanalyzing again. Nah, that can’t be it. Man, I am messed up.

Please like me.