The dental chair leaned back, equipment hummed, while muzak and antiseptic filled the air. The calendar invite had popped up that morning—unannounced, vague, just another call I figured I’d listen in on, maybe toss in a comment if needed. A nothing burger.
But it was anything but.
I slipped my earbuds in, and Jim’s voice cut through without introduction. “I have 120 consultants, and they need a new home. Procurement is making them move out of the building, and our current firm doesn’t have a place to put them.”
I pushed the hygienist’s hands away and stood, paper bib still clipped around my neck—and walked out of the office. She watched, slid back, scaler and suction in hand, used to me taking calls, they were a good distraction from all the scraping and polishing, but this she had not seen.
For two years, I’d been chasing Jim’s business. My predecessor had tried for three years before that. Everyone said he was cold as ice, never going to flip from his current provider—not because they did great work, switching just seemed like a colossal pain in the ass. He wasn’t wrong.
Now here he was, asking us to take over his entire operation.
My first thought? Oh shit.
Getting What You Want
There’s a term I use for moments like this, A Burden in My Hand. Of course, a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, everyone knows that, but a burden is typically worth a whole lot more. If you can deal with it.
Sometimes when you get a deal, or a really great opportunity, the first thing you feel isn’t excitement. It’s dread. Because now the real work begins.
David Ogilvy felt the same way when Shell Oil told him he’d won their account—one of the biggest in advertising history. After flying to London and orchestrating meetings at the House of Commons, he finally got the call, he got what he wanted. His response when they told him? “God help us.”
The psychology behind this reaction runs deeper than you might think. Researchers like John Atkinson and David McClelland discovered something counterintuitive: the moment we achieve what we’ve been chasing, anxiety often replaces excitement. The “burden of competence” kicks in—suddenly we’re responsible for delivering on expectations, both our own and others.
It can happen when you win a bid, make the team, or earn a promotion.
Losing a deal is actually easier, in a strange way. Rejection stings—it’s an ego hit, a feeling of exclusion—but it’s also finite. Clean. Simple. You dust yourself off and move on to the next opportunity.
But winning? Winning means you’ve earned their business; you need to make that PowerPoint into reality. You need to move from solicitation to solution.
When Solutions Trump Solicitation
The next week I had meetings scheduled in Atlanta, DC, and Seattle. Jim was going to be in Dallas, so I routed my return flight through Love Field, and gave myself a 6-hour layover. Enough time for dinner with Jim.
The meeting went better than I’d hoped. Jim had a need, and for the first time in five years of trying, we had a solution.
We’d always had the expertise. This was Service Center work, our oldest and most mature solution area. We’d been doing it for years, even supporting Jim’s coworkers.
Every time I’d met with Jim, every time my predecessors had pitched him, we’d offered the same capabilities. We can do this, that, and the other. Better, faster, cheaper.
So what was different this time?
Jim needed someone to take the entire burden off his plate. Hire, fire, train, manage, promote, house, strategize, and report back. All he wanted back were results. The a-la-carte days were over.
The Weight of Success
At the time, that deal was one of the largest in our company’s history. But getting it was just the beginning.
Because just after moving all of the teams into our facility, COVID hit. Offices sat empty for 18 months.
We needed to evolve again. As Ogilvy writes, “Agencies add new services the way universities add new courses. Nothing wrong with that if you also discontinue services which have outlived their relevance. To keep your boat moving through the water, keep scraping the barnacles off its bottom.”
We were scraping and adding, adding and scraping.
It was a sleepless, hectic, pressure packed period in my career. Full of highs and also chock-full of dread.
Why?
Jim Collins observed, “We give our best when other people depend upon us to come through, when we cannot let them down.” The burden of that dependence—Jim’s 120 consultants, their livelihoods, our company’s reputation, the careers of my teammates—became the weight that drove everyone forward.
Success doesn’t just change your circumstances; it changes your responsibilities.
Elon Musk went through “production hell” after Tesla’s Model 3 launch.
Adele felt paralyzed by pressure after the success of 21.
And after LeBron James made “The Decision,” nothing short of an NBA Championship would suffice.
Embracing the Burden
The pursuit is intoxicating, but sometimes we don’t realize what is involved if we finally catch what we are after.
When J.K. Rowling published her first novel, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in 1997, her publisher started with just 500 copies. It was a dream come true—a story she’d written over six years as a struggling single mother had been rejected by a dozen publishers. But as fans clamored for a second book, the pressure crushed her. Writing Chamber of Secrets, she froze. “I’ve only suffered writer’s block badly once,” she said. “I had my first burst of publicity about the first book, and it paralyzed me.” Fearing she’d let down fans and herself, she faced a burden bigger than her dream. Like Rowling, we chase our goals, but winning means carrying the weight of expectation and responsibility.
You might let people down. More to the point, you might let yourself down.
The real differentiation doesn’t come from being better at what everyone else does. It comes from solving problems others can’t or won’t solve—even problems the client didn’t know they had just weeks before.
Just as one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. One man’s burden is another man’s business.
After the call I walked back into the dentist’s, past reception, and silently retook my place in the exam room.
“Everything alright?” Asked the hygienist.
“Sorry about that. Yes. I think so. Things are really ramping up at the office.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.” She slid her chair around and began again as my phone vibrated endlessly in my pocket.
The next time you find yourself thinking “Oh shit” instead of “Hell yes” when opportunity calls, remember you’re not alone. Even David Ogilvy needed divine intervention.
What solution will you build with the burden in your hand?
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