How much information do you require before you willingly invest your trust in somebody?
Probably not very much.
As it turns out, our choices seldom have much to do with the actual quantity of facts involved. Most of our daily decisions are made “on a hunch” that we later flesh out with judgements on authenticity, transparency, and a perception of humility.
The social media space is filled with conversations on the need for “authenticity” and “transparency” from corporations and individuals alike. In spite of all the words published about “how to be authentic” or “how to be transparent,” little in the way of concrete guidlines or actionable sequences has emerged.
That’s especially unfortunate because blogs enable intelligent people from all over the globe to gather at no cost to discuss a topic. Why then, when we have the tools to push a conversation forward in real time, do we walk away from so many discussions with our ideas unchallenged and thought structures unchanged? Because we’ve forgotten about humility.
It’s difficult to discuss humility because to do so is often considered arrogant. It’s just not socially acceptable to discuss humility as it relates to people and businesses. Blessedly, we’re allowed to bend the social rules a bit online. I’d like to. Just for a bit. Shall we?
Job title inflation has turned the labor market’s once-useful currency into something of a joke. Gone are the days when employees willingly took titles in lieu of monetary raises because a title was worth more than money. The solution to the silliness lies either in rejection of job titles as a whole or a subtler rethinking of what makes a job title useful.
The job title as an invented form:
A few years ago, human resources (a silly title itself) pros decided that front desk staff would smile more if given the title “First Impression Technicians“ and garbage men would take pride in their work as “Environmental Revitalization Technicians.” Intentions may have been honorable but their efforts resulted in silly and bloated job titles that meant nothing more than extra letters on a nametag.
My mother (who lies somewhere between Wikipedia and Perez Hilton as a source of reliable information) completely agrees with the HR pros in the practice of dressing up an ordinary job with an extraordinary title. She often told me that I needed to “dress for success” and that my outward appearance would affect the way I behaved.
But she would never have given me a silly title like “Progenitor of Future Generations” and expected me to act in a certain way because of a title. Just like using a sharpie to draw a designer tie on a naked emperor, the product is absolute silliness. Besides, I was raised to avoid situations involving nudity and permanent markers.
Where did the silliness begin? Eric Idle of Monty Python suggests that titles began as a corporate adoption of military command structures: ”You could never make a show like Python in a modern situation with executives approving things.” He sees the executive as an invented position that only serves to muzzle creativity.
Stuart Foster agrees, “So why do we still have titles? To maintain order to some extent. To restrain people within existing power platforms.”
The job title as a necessity:
But a job title is about more than just crushing creativity within an organization. (I’m confident that crushing creativity has never been the publicly stated purpose of a title.) Since Idle and Foster both work in the creative sector, I get why they’d resent a power structure that restricts them. However, the size of many modern corporations dictates a need for “restraint.” (Freelancers who refer to themselves as CEO’s need restraint in multiple forms.) You simply can’t orchestrate massive projects without clearly defined responsibilities and a chain of command to fall back on when creativity runs amok.
In spite of the creatives’ resentment toward them, we need job titles. They’ve become a necessary part of corporate culture.
An effective job title does three things:
Reinforces the chain of command – where does final responsibility lie?
Illustrates the magnitude of decisions the individual is entrusted to make – are you the right person for a client to talk to?
Clarifies the role of the individual in an organization – what do you actually do?
Does your job title do all of those? If so, you probably won’t have much trouble describing your position and what your typical task load consists of.
Consider your own title. Does it simply and accurately state your role in an endeavor… or has it gone a bit stale… perhaps even a bit silly?
How much information do you require before you willingly invest your trust in somebody? 
But she would never have given me a silly title like “Progenitor of Future Generations” and expected me to act in a certain way because of a title. Just like using a sharpie to draw a designer tie on a naked emperor, the product is absolute silliness. Besides, I was raised to avoid situations involving nudity and permanent markers.