Ever since I took my new job, it’s been hard to explain to people what I do. I don’t run any systems, I don’t write code, I don’t manage projects — I develop relationships and partnerships with members of the community. I put people in touch with other people. I assemble the necessary people to fix complex problems.
Amy and I watched Michael Clayton the other day. In it, George Clooney plays an attorney at a prestigious New York law firm who serves as a “fixer” — or, someone who solves difficult situations through his intimate knowledge of “the system” and his network of powerful business contacts. Clayton does not do any trial work himself, and at one point a character comments that many people don’t even realize he works at the firm.
At one point while watching the film, it occurred to me that I am the “Michael Clayton” of my organization.
I’m a “fixer.”
The downside of this position — professionally speaking — is illustrated in the film when Clayton expresses concern to his boss over a pending merger with another firm. He is worried that he won’t be able to convince the new firm bosses that he’s worth keeping on so he wants to do more litigation work to have something tangible to show for himself. His boss tries to assure him that Clayton is far more valuable in his current role and would be wasted as a litigator. Clayton doesn’t seem too comforted by this.
I, too, have a bit of anxiety that my current position can’t be expressed in terms that make sense to future employers (note to coworkers: I’m not actively looking for another job). I am routinely assured by my coworkers that I’m serving a valuable role (and I believe that I do), but that role doesn’t easily translate to a job title or function that can be summed up or easily demonstrated outside of this immediate context.
Of course, I probably don’t have to worry about anyone putting a bomb in my car, so there’s some comfort in that. Oh, sorry: SPOILER ALERT.
