The Perils of Being Conscientious
How conscientiousness can help and hinder progression (particularly for women)
Who wouldn’t want to describe themselves as conscientious? Who wants to admit to not having discipline, diligence, high personal standards, and a sense of accountability for things that are our responsibility?
Research shows that people who score highly in conscientiousness tend to earn more, be happier, and live longer, healthier lives. Woohoo (if you happen to be highly conscientious).
The strengths of conscientiousness
In working life, people rarely get to be managers and/or leaders if they don’t have an ability to emotionally invest in the purpose and performance of their organisation. A disinterested shrug of the shoulders is rarely a good response to a demanding organisation.
We also know that women tend to score highly with conscientiousness measures in personality research. Lots of the senior and high-potential women I have coached over the last 20 years care deeply about their work but also other aspects of their world; they are often mothers who sometimes overthink their parenting approach, or offspring who worry that they are disappointing their parents, or friends who take responsibility for the organisation and cohesion of their friendship groups.
There is also a correlation between conscientiousness and empathy and/or ‘people-pleasing’, with a strong sense of responsibility towards others. Often, they are also committed to social, environmental, or other causes with a deep-seated belief that they need to get involved to make the world better.
What’s not to like? I’m describing people who want to do good by their organisations, their families, and the wider world in which they live.
The shadows of conscientiousness
“Guilt and conscientiousness can be two sides of the same coin”.
But, like every other trait we can possess as a human being, conscientiousness has shadow sides, and these can take several forms, including overcommitment, lacking spontaneity, and sometimes feeling guilt and a persistent sense of failure.
Guilt and conscientiousness can be two sides of the same coin. To a large extent, they are mutually inclusive; we are very unlikely to feel guilty about things that we really don’t care about.
I can feel extraordinarily guilty for occasionally having to cancel a meeting with a client, but no guilt whatsoever for not doing my expenses on time. Both are parts of my job, but in which I have vastly different levels of emotional investment (the relative importance I place on myself and others is at play here). However, for those with high levels of conscientiousness, guilt can be a constant, nagging companion.
Jane’s* story
*Name and details have been changed to preserve anonymity.
“She’s a superwoman who has it all. To her, she’s continually failing in each domain.”
As an example, a talented female client—let’s call her Jane—is ambitious and wants to progress in her career; she works long hours and has an appetite for responsibility, so is perceived as proactive, energetic, and a safe pair of hands. She is also a devoted mother to three kids, a loving partner to a husband with a demanding job, and a trustee of a local environmental charity.
Anyone looking at Jane from the outside sees a talented and successful woman who is skilfully juggling several demanding parts of her world. She’s a superwoman who has it all. To her, she’s continually failing in each domain.
In Jane’s mind, if she’s at work after 5pm trying to complete her to-do list (which, in our permanently connected world, she is most days), she’s a failing, neglectful mum. If she’s enjoying being with her kids and partner, her mind wanders, too often, to the incomplete to-do list. This discomfort is regularly sprinkled with guilt that she isn’t contributing enough to the charity, or speaking often enough to her mum, dad, and brother.
Wherever she is, she feels guilty about not being somewhere else! Ironically, our technologically connected world has lost the ability to properly compartmentalise in a way that was taken for granted 30 years ago. When I started my career (I’m really old!), I finished my work for the day when I left the office. This is very rare nowadays.
When asked about the perception of her as successful and talented, Jane demurs and her focus goes quickly to her failings—as a mum, in particular. Her inner critic often becomes harsh and wounding, punishing her for shortcomings (as she sees them) rather than the many positive attributes she has.
This skewed perception then has knock-on effects. Because Jane doesn’t see herself as particularly talented, despite her ambition (and research shows roughly 80% of women want to be promoted), she has missed out on promotions because she doesn’t put herself forward. Why would someone give her a bigger job when she’s failing at this one?
How do we make sure that conscientiousness isn’t holding us—or our employees—back?
Is guilt and a harsh inner critic an inevitable companion to conscientiousness? Well, no. While they are commonly conjoined, by recognising this pattern and spotting that regular pang of guilt, we can learn to disrupt the habitual negative self-talk.
Human beings, especially talented and driven ones, often have an unhelpful tendency to equate things feeling difficult with their inadequacy. When often, things feel hard because we’re just doing something really difficult—like juggling a big job and being a loving parent.
Those pangs of guilt, while instinctive, aren’t necessarily true or fair. When we’re able to recognise this, and that it’s OK to be in different parts of our world, we can consciously construct boundaries and, over time, begin to dial down the negative effects of that guilt. Perhaps most helpfully, responding to those pangs of guilt by recognising they are only there because we are deeply conscientious and caring.
In my experience, HR & L&D/Talent departments do far too little to equip their people with the self-awareness to spot these compulsions and thus manage them more effectively.
What do you think? Do the pros and cons of conscientiousness resonate with you? And how can organisations help leaders and employees to build on these strengths, rather than being swallowed by the shadows? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
About me
Hi, I’m Roger. Advisor and coach to the UK’s top CEOs, co-founder of Famn, and former punk rocker. I’ve been a coaching psychologist for 20-odd years, working with a wide range of executives, CEOs, leadership teams, and the occasional rock star. I believe the world would be a significantly better place with more emotional intelligence; which I want us to stop seeing as a fluffy, “soft” skill, and start utilising as a hard-nosed, commercial asset.
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This Substack, like all my work, is dedicated to helping leaders and humans to gain an awareness of the assumptions, compulsions and shadows that shape our ways of being — and usually get us more of what we don’t want. By doing the deep work of unearthing these powerful psychological drivers, we get a new perspective on how we show up, interact and lead. And we get the real work that can make-or-break an organisation — effective leadership, high productivity, harmonious collaboration, tangible business growth — done.