How Ted Lasso Eased the Sting of Being Underestimated

“Be curious, not judgmental.”

Photo by Shannon Kunkle on Unsplash

I’ve never understood why so many people have underestimated me. This has been particularly apparent in jobs over the years. It’s like they looked at my resume and decided that I could do some things but not others. The pre-judgment wouldn’t have stung so much if they hadn’t been looking at other less-educated or less-experienced people and deciding that they could be trusted to do more or to stretch outside of their experience levels. I would watch inexperienced people climb a ladder I couldn’t even access. It was infuriating.

Be Curious, Not Judgmental

I won’t say that it’s not occasionally frustrating even now when someone else gets seen as being competent with something I could do in my sleep and do well, but Apple TV’s Ted Lasso has taken so much of the sting out of being underestimated. This scene isn’t just one of the best I’ve ever seen on television. It’s also one that serves as an apt reminder when I feel underestimated.

[embed]Ted Lasso (2020) — Darts Scene

I could watch this over and over again. In fact, I have. This is my comfort series, and the fact that a new season will be out in a month makes my heart happy. Especially since it was only ever going to be a three-season arc. Now, we get a whole new season with reminders just like this one.

While “be curious, not judgmental” has been attributed to Walt Whitman, it’s not been confirmed that he said it. Whoever said it, this scene and its explanation have stuck with me. When people underestimate me, it says nothing about me at all. They don’t know me, and they haven’t bothered to try to understand what I can or can’t do. They’ve made their assumptions. All I can do is show them what I can do by doing it, and if they block that access, I just need to go where I’m valued.

I still occasionally feel underestimated, but it’s a fleeting feeling. I’ve found roles where I am very much trusted to do whatever it is I say I can do — and it’s not a humble brag or a brag of any kind to say that I have successfully done everything I’ve said I could. Those are just the facts. I learn fast, and I build skills quickly. I’m grateful for it. I know I’m not good at everything. I appreciate the skills of a talented editor who can catch errors that I overlook. But I know what I can accomplish, and I wouldn’t say I could do something if I couldn’t do it.

This isn’t virtue signaling. It’s not bravado. I’ve spent so much of my life pivoting from one thing to the next, sometimes because of undiagnosed ADHD that had my interests shifting but often because I had to adjust to events outside of my control. Layoffs. Reorganizations. Budget cuts. Management changes. Restructuring of all kinds. I’ve had to think on my feet and learn quickly. I’ve adapted to survive.

But now, I just want to adapt to thrive. I don’t want to be put in a little box, only trusted to do a small number of things. I want to be able to flex the skills I’m learning, to grow stronger in areas that I find interesting. I don’t want to be thought of as a one-trick pony, no matter how great that one trick is seen to be. I’ve got more to offer.

But Ted Lasso keeps reminding me to adjust my perspective. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, and when someone underestimates me, that’s on them. They are the ones who lose in the end. They think they know me. They don’t even know the half of it.

Championing Mediocrity

It’s strange that some people are automatically seen as competent. I would spend time wondering if it was because of socioeconomic status or nepotism or some other unknown-to-me factor. I couldn’t figure out why my experience, qualifications, and skills were undervalued. Was I not broadcasting them enough? Or were they just not seen as important as other qualities?

Questions like this can keep us up at night. It’s hard to figure out what other people are thinking when the decisions don’t seem to make rational sense. Truthfully, sometimes the answer is nepotism. Sometimes, people just come across more confidently. Other times, the reasons are unfathomable.

And many times, the answer is the patriarchy, and while some might scoff, I’ve seen plenty a mediocre man climb a ladder that a hard-working and capable woman couldn’t even reach because of leadership moving it further and further out of reach. Our current American president is a perfect example of the good old boy system at work when two competent and qualified women lost to his blustering idiocy (and, no, I don’t care if either was remotely likable or attractive to whoever is about to comment that).

Mediocre men can climb ladders while being mediocre. Women of excellence often watch them climb and wonder why leadership would be so invested in mediocrity over excellence. Most of those women will either figure out the system and work within it or leave it altogether. I’m one of the latter, uninterested in climbing the metaphorical ladder.

In the words of the iconic Roy Kent, also of Ted Lasso, “Don’t you dare settle for fine.” Wise words, indeed. People can underestimate us, but we don’t have to settle for it, and frankly, I’m tired of trying to work within a system that would be better burned to the f*cking ground. I would rather build a better one where competence isn’t automatically assigned to mediocre men and nepo babies, where hard work and solid skills can translate to success.

I don’t want to settle for “fine.” I don’t want to settle for anything. I just want to see what I can do by doing it. I want to stretch, grow, and learn.

Better Than Fine

When working as a full-time professional writer became impossible due to artificial intelligence taking one paying job after another, I had to evolve. I got into social media and marketing by accident, but I had a knack for it. I’d done a lot of my own social media building over the years to support my writing career. I could do it for small businesses and non-profits, too. I grew skills I didn’t have, and I honed ones I did.

I’m still a professional writer, but as a single mother supporting two children, I also have to be more than that when the money isn’t coming in. So, I shifted to marketing, I grew social media, and I have even started to work in art curation, program planning, and agritourism. It feels empowering to know that I can do all of this and still sit down to write.

While I never wanted to leave my professional full-time writing bubble, I’ve experienced so many beautiful things that I wouldn’t have if I’d stayed within it. While I still say “to hell with AI” loudly and proudly to anyone who will listen, I also am grateful that I had the skill set to grow into other fields when writing wasn’t paying the bills. It’s why underestimating me is never wise.

I am never going to settle for a mediocre life, and it’s rare to see me perform mediocrity in my work. I just don’t do it. It doesn’t interest me. I am only interested in excellence, and it shows.

But being underestimated is a human experience, and it hurts. It stings to have someone think so little of us, especially when it’s in contrast to the trust they freely give to people who haven’t always earned it. But that’s about them. I’m over here being curious. It’s what has helped me learn and grow, adapting to changing times. I’m not leaning on generational wealth or nepotism or the crony method of success. I’m just relying on me, and that’s so much better than fine.

When I remember that, it’s easier to go back to the dart board and to remember that other people’s opinions of me are just that … their opinion. They’re entitled to it, and I’m entitled to continue excellence without their acknowledgment or approval. It feels good to know that they can underestimate me, but I’ll be damned if I ever do.

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