Imposter Syndrome

Katherine Miller is an imposter. She’s somewhere she shouldn’t be, working a job she doesn’t deserve to be working. She got lucky; she slipped through the proverbial cracks and landed in corporate America.

At least that’s what she tells herself. At 37, Kat has been with her company for 8 years. She was a late bloomer, graduating college in her late twenties and securing an internship and eventual position at her first job prospect out of college. She’s an anomaly.

But ever since Kat stepped foot in her tiny, gray cubicle, she’s had a gnawing feeling in the back of her mind. I don’t belong here. Corporate is for the polished, professional, and intelligent. Kat is none of those things. She’s frumpy and awkward and stumbles over her words. The most debilitating of her traits: she has a deep-seated fear of public speaking.

As the years passed, Kat hoped these feelings would go away. Everyone says that practice makes perfect with public speaking, but to her dismay, her fear persisted.

After a long day of work, Kat would often return to her tiny studio apartment and ruminate on her mistakes. She should've said this instead of that. Why did her face have to turn red when she was caught off guard? Why couldn’t she just open her mouth and speak her mind? On paper, she should be confident and articulate, but in reality, Kat is insecure and ashamed of herself.

Just when Kat thinks things couldn’t get any worse, she receives a bi-weekly Teams meeting invite with all higher-ups in her office. Kat is fairly low-level in the corporate world, so she’s never officially met any of the higher-ups. She feels immediately out of her depth. The first meeting is next Tuesday, exactly one week from today. The invite agenda announces: The goal of this meeting is to collaborate more effectively to reach company goals. More to come.

Kat’s stomach drops. Collaboration.

Fuck.

ONE WEEK LATER

The dreaded day has arrived. Kat picks her outfit carefully, a nice blouse with black dress pants and flats. She tries her best to manage her frizzy hair and applies an almost undetectable amount of mascara on her lashes. She checks her appearance before heading out the door.

As good as it’s gonna get.

Kat makes her normal 10-minute commute to work and shutters herself in her cubicle for the entire morning. As the meeting time approaches, she feels shaky and nervous. She hates the way her body reacts in these banal moments. How can a simple meeting have this effect on her? A true corporate professional can handle collaboration with ease. But she’s not a true professional. She’s an imposter.

The clock displays 12:55pm and Kat reluctantly makes her way to the conference room. She’s tempted to flee and hide in the bathroom, but convinces herself to suck it up and push forward. This time will be different. She’ll come across as smart and impressive.

Before she even steps over the threshold, Kat starts to sweat. Act normal, she tells herself.

The large oval room is flanked by windows. It makes her feel like she's in a fish tank or on display at the zoo.

There are only a couple people in the room, so Kat quickly chooses her seat and tries to act nonchalant. Everything is fine. No biggie.

Within a couple minutes, the conference room is at capacity. All seats are occupied except for the lone chair positioned at the head of the table. Her colleagues talk among themselves, but Kat stays silent, still willing herself to appear unaffected.

Distantly, Kat hears the click-clack of high heels approaching and fixes her gaze on the doorway. A woman enters the room.

She glides into the office in her stiletto heels and slips into the open seat at the head of the table. The chattering around Kat dwindles, their attention turning to the woman. Kat can’t help but take in her appearance; her skin is smooth and flawless, her dark hair is cut into a blunt bob without a single wayward strand. Her dress is pristine and accentuates her features, as if it’s been specifically tailored for her. She’s around the same age as Kat herself, but the difference in status is unmistakable.

The woman glances around the room and flashes a perfect, thousand-watt smile. “Hello, everyone,” she says warmly.

There’s a scatter of greetings directed back at her.

She continues, “Most of you are new faces, so first, let me introduce myself. My name is Sandra Yang, I’m the CFO overseeing investment and growth opportunities for the company. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’d like to go around the room and get a brief understanding of what each person is responsible for in their area.”

Kat’s chest tightens with panic as Sandra looks to the person at her left to begin. As they go around the room, Kat feels an impending sense of doom. She rehearses what she’s going to say in her head, but she already feels defeated. If rehearsing worked, her fears would've been alleviated years ago.

Eventually, it’s Kat’s turn. Sandra’s attention lands on her and Kat feels momentarily emboldened. She can’t embarrass herself right now. ACT NORMAL.

“My name is Kat Miller,” she starts off strong, “and…uh, I work mostly with, uh, sales and inputting data.”

Kat can feel her face starting to turn red and looks away from Sandra, trying to shield herself from the inevitable embarrassment. Her voice seems to dry up in her throat and she forgets how to breathe. She rehearsed saying something else, but her train of thought was lost. Kat clears her throat and looks back up to Sandra, hoping she’ll get the hint and just move on.

Mercifully, Sandra looks to the next person.

As the meeting proceeds, Kat finds herself drifting in and out of the conversation. She processes snippets of words, but otherwise, she’s focused solely on Sandra. She’s only been in Sandra’s presence for half an hour at this point, but Kat can’t help feeling deeply jealous of her. She is the epitome of corporate America: polished, professional, confident and eloquent. She knows when to use all the appropriate corporate jargon, but also understands when to make space for humor.

As the meeting comes to a close and her colleagues trickle back to their cubicles, Kat feels deflated. She knows she embarrassed herself again. She knows people judge her and are annoyed by her inability to be normal. But most importantly, a glaring piece of evidence has become clear, supporting her belief that she doesn’t belong: Sandra Yang is the blueprint for corporate America. Kat Miller is the opposite.

SANDRA YANG’S CELL PHONE POV

Being the cell phone of a corporate elite is a very taxing job, but it is also an incredibly important one. Sandra wouldn’t be as successful as she is without me. She needs me.

I wake Sandra up at 3:00 every morning. We go to the gym together, I accompany Sandra while she showers, and then we eat breakfast together.

I only allow Sandra to start receiving phone calls at 4:00am. Jerry knows that; He calls every morning at 4:01.

Sandra answers the call and puts me on speaker while she finishes breakfast. “Yeah?”

“How’d the meeting go?”

“Fine. Mostly introductory, but we can start discussing project details next meeting.”

“That puts us behind schedule,” Jerry grumbles.

Sandra rolls her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Move the next meeting up. We have deadlines to meet.” Jerry ends the call before Sandra can agree.

I know she’ll do it. Sandra is a professional. She just doesn’t get along with Jerry.

We finish breakfast and move onto our next task: picking out Sandra’s outfit. This process usually puts us behind schedule so I have to give Sandra frequent reminders along the way.

The tv plays in the background while Sandra inspects her closet. Before deciding on her outfit of choice, she tries on 5 other options, answers 3 different calls and makes 4 google searches:

Professional tops that hide arms

comfortable dress pants

How to be confident in a skirt?

Corporate attire for women

I show her the answers she’s looking for. I show her what will make her successful and she believes me. This is why Sandra is CFO.

Before me, Sandra was nobody. I made her someone by giving her everything she needs.

After Sandra is dressed, we move to the bathroom to finish her routine. Hair, makeup, teeth.

Sandra mutters to herself when she looks in the mirror. Mostly critiques of herself. I listen closely so I can help. Pimple? I suggest a cream for her. Cellulite? Here’s a miracle pill. I make an algorithmic note to search for root touch-up.

We leave at 6:08am. Behind schedule. I’ll have to pay closer attention tomorrow.

We arrive at the office at 6:21am.

We work hard all morning. I remind her to reschedule Jerry’s meeting for today at 12pm.

Meetings used to make Sandra nervous, but now she has me. I can fix anything.

I once recommended a website about grounding based on her previous searches. It helps her be who she needs to be. Now, as part of our pre-meeting ritual, Sandra uses the grounding technique while I rest. We both need it.

Our break feels painfully short.

We walk to the conference room together, arriving at 12:03pm.

We both sit at the head of the table.

“Good afternoon,” Sandra begins.