Accretive

“Mad Men” is one of my favorite shows; while it is traditional, scripted, fictional television with professional actors, I find it to be an interesting take on what life was purported to be like for women in the sixties, with an occasional timeless application for women today.  It doesn’t hurt, either, that I am lured in by rich, colorful set design and costume as pieces of art working deliciously in concert.  I savor every element of the performance each week and am enchanted by the possibility I'll be moved and surprised at any moment.

And Sunday’s episode was no different.  Titled “The Other Woman”, among other things, it is a moving portrayal of a woman taking charge of her life, packing up her potential and setting out to change a few things for herself.

For the past five seasons we’ve watched the Peggy Olson character evolve from submissive secretary to confident copywriter.  As she continually delivers quality ideas, winning hard-fought accolades and recognition from a group of male colleagues slow to grant her even a modicum of equality or credit for her work, we’ve watched her self-assurance grow. She’s now at a crossroads. Over coffee with one of her sponsors, a former colleague at her current advertising agency, he suggests just the encouragement she needs to take her career into her own hands and she accepts his offer to recommend her to a competitor. 

Making a decision to move on can feel like a big risk.  We get so comfortable with what we know.  Sure, there are things that aren’t great about our circumstances, but if the choice is between moving to the unfamiliar or staying put, it’s easier to minimize the down side of our current position rather than risk something new. There can be a million good reasons why we should leave, but fear of the unknown can trump all of them and leave us idling in a stale situation long past the expiration date.

We also feel a sense of loyalty toward the people around us.  Most of us spend more time at work than at home, and become quite close to our colleagues, clients and teammates.  For many of us, it’s been a considerable battle to get where we are today, and we’ve had some help.  We’ve built strong teams, and cultivated a sizeable amount of fidelity in those who work with us. Picking up and leaving our fans behind, whether they are managers, advocates or our direct reports, can leave us feeling selfish and ungrateful, like we are abandoning those who made our achievements possible.

And then there’s the nagging fear of failure. What if we cannot be as accomplished in the new place as we are right now?  What if we really have been held up by those around us, and our work is only ordinary?  When we spend a long period of time in one role, we perfect it and make it our own.  It becomes such a part of us it seems impossible to believe that we could leave it and recreate similar success elsewhere.  But we can’t grow unless we give ourselves the chance to do exactly that.

What I loved about the way Peggy delivers her message to her manager, Don, was the unequivocal statement “it’s time for me to have a new experience”. Sometimes the reason to move on is as simple as that. We don’t need to leave on bad terms, burn bridges or make it about money. We owe it to ourselves to get as many diverse experiences as we can.  It makes us more interesting, valuable, and happier. Who can really deny that?  As Peggy tells Don, he would do the same thing in her shoes.

The scene in Don’s office is beautifully orchestrated.  She thanks him for recognizing her skills, for treating her like a protégé and for being her champion.  Of course Don is angered, but as she holds her ground and speaks from the heart, we watch him soften slightly.  He can’t argue. We come to realize in the moment Peggy’s extended hand is met, not with Don’s hand, but with his lips in a lingering kiss, that he holds a deep appreciation for her talent and understands the true magnitude and inevitability of his loss.  By handling the situation so confidently and authentically, she garners from him a rare and genuine flash of grace.

The door is left ajar to walk through again in the future if she chooses, and she is off to spread her wings in another direction.  She’s made the right choice and she knows it.  As the elevator doors part and she contemplates stepping over the threshold to her next adventure, a smile of sheer joy and pride crosses her face.  Priceless.