Ambitious Mediocrity

You might be in the wrong gear

Friends - it’s been a while! There’s a lot going at the moment, so excuse the gap between this post and the last. I’ll be getting married next month, so I’ve inevitably spent the last week recovering from a riotous stag do, terrorising the fair people of Bath, and generally trying to get my act together in the meantime. I’ll endeavour to write as much as I’m able (and might experiment with some shorts to keep the writing muscle limber). Lord knows how, but if you’re reading this in your inbox, you’re one of 53 people reading this here Substack. What a wonderful milestone! Know that I am sending you incredibly good vibes and hope that all of you get some delight in your day. With that ramble - please do read on:

Before I introduce the glorious thread above, I must first introduce you to Gabriel Martinelli. He’s a footballer who signed to Arsenal from the Brazilian league at the tender age of 18. His playing style, when he first arrived was nothing short of manic. At all times. A Labrador on stimulants. A Tasmanian devil high on crystal meth.

If he had the ball he would run. If he didn’t have the ball he would run. You can imagine that while others hesitantly dipped their toes into ice baths at the end of a game, he would dive bomb in, then afterwards, just because, he would run home at full speed, launch himself into his bed and fall asleep, dreaming all the while of himself pelting up and down the football pitch at full tilt, celebrating riotously. 

At the time, Arsenal’s manager, Mikel Arteta said: ‘He’s able to put some gears into his play. Sometimes he’s still doing everything at 100 miles per hour but the energy and quality he shows at times is top.’ 

Gears. The things on a bike that moderate our exertion so that we can get to where we want to more efficiently. To harp on the football analogy, the best players on the planet often amble about like merry sailors letting the tilting deck of a boat tip them to where they want to go. They look like they’re doing the square root of bugger all. You pop out to make a cup of tea, then bam: they’ve made a decisive interception, sent three defenders sliding into outer space, scored a wonder goal and have returned to their ambling. As calm as you like. 

So what of it?    

I wish to pull us back to the thread above, away from the green carpet of the elite football pitch, and to the humdrum of office life. My dear pals Michelle and Tobi have elucidated an idea that I’m sure a number of you’re familiar with. Michelle calls it: “mediocrity mode” and Tobi fleshes it out: becoming the “muted version of yourself, when you’ve perfected the theatre of corporate shenanigans”.

I get it. When I was a lawyer, I found that the day to day was so far from my default mode of being that the end result was something like burnout. It takes a lot more effort to maintain an even keel when your day consists of doing things you have little interest in. If you don’t enjoy and engage your natural talents for too long, the end result ain’t pretty let me tell you: a one way trip to Jadedsville, Cynic Heights, on the Soul-less train. 

“Mediocrity mode” is a good turn of phrase if we’re talking about our ‘true’ self (whatever that is) being left to languish; putting that thing on ice while we get to the drudgery of the work related task at hand. It’s a kind of mediocrity to say no to aliveness, and yes to slowly moulding yourself into a very good completer of tasks. 

But, there’s also such a thing as ‘ambitious mediocrity’. It’s maybe an adjacent concept. An outlook. A mode of being. Let me explain.

When I left law, I decided to retrain as a software engineer. My thinking was something like: I’d like to make stuff, to be in the tech world where there’s more exposure to serendipity and for my life not to be dominated by the billable hour. In this way, I could spend more time writing (finishing that godforsaken novel) and generally living and being less of a depressing cynic to be around. 

At the right company and in the right role, being a software engineer is fantastic. The day to day is plenty engaging enough. Of course there are deadlines and urgency to get things done, but there’s also an understanding that solving problems all day means the mind needs a break. To take it back to young Gabi Martinelli; you don’t go careering off at a hundred miles per hour going what’s next, what’s next. If you find yourself becoming more efficient then do with that efficiency what you will. Solve the next problem sure. Or take a breather. Heaven forbid, do something to nourish your soul!

When I mention the term ‘ambitiously mediocre’ I mean to describe a type of discipline that doesn’t strive to do more and more. As Mikel Arteta says, use your gears. Do the things your work requires, but don’t give your soul, certainly don’t give your everything. It’s not easy, especially when that little voice called ambition sits on your shoulder saying: ‘but, you could be doing so much more’ - but, more of what you want to do?

I was reading an Andrew Taggart report yesterday called How an Artist Can Hack a Living and there’s one archetype he describes for artists to make a living that struck me: ‘the merchant exchanges in accordance with fairness’; an enormous emphasis being put on the fairness of the transaction. 

How fair is your workplace when we get down to brass tacks? When the P&L turns against you, how quickly will that rushing and racing be forgotten? How quickly will that bonus or that promotion you’ve been chasing all year get wiped out? If you want to get fair exchange for your value, it means carving out space for yourself, and all of your other selves to flourish. 

Of course you can operate in a high gearing at all times, but like the expert footballer sometimes it pays to amble. Nourish your soul with what you love. Read. Write. Sing. I do all three, now that I have the time. Be good at what you do, sprint when you need to, but make sure to use that hard earned skill to your favour as well as your pay masters.

Think about your gears.