Dear introvert

A while ago, when I was a young auditor at an accounting firm, I sat down with my boss for a performance review. We had just left a client’s office together and was about to call it a day. But the performance review deadline was approaching, so we decided to get it done at a nearby cafe. Quickly, he skimmed the assessment document and lifted his gaze towards me.

“You know, it’s like you have these moments of greatness, but you fizzle out. You’re not consistent,” he said. And then he softened up and suggested things that I could do to improve. And the rest, I honestly forgot.

Those words, I carried with me for years. Because I believed in them. Maybe it was the mix of judgement and evidence that made the assessment sound so credible. Maybe I didn’t know myself any better. Or maybe I simply agreed.

Years later, I’m no longer a young auditor, but I’m still the same person. The same person who was not made for attention, who is capable of holding attention but it comes at a cost. The same person who understands now that the cost is solitude and quiet recovery, and embraces it.

Dear fellow introvert, if you can relate, may we know this: attention comes at a cost and sometimes the recovery is long and hard. But good work doesn’t require attention. And recovery doesn’t mean we’re inconsistent.