My Why

Many years ago, I was blown away by the surprisingly simple yet profound way Simon Sinek codified the idea of "The Why" in his Golden Circle TED Talk.

It gave language to a question I'd probably been asking myself for years.

Why am I doing this?

It's a question I've returned to many times since.

Why this job?

Why this task?

Why another attempt at getting fit?

Why am I standing in front of the fridge at midnight eating cold roast lamb?

And why, despite everything I know about carbohydrates, do cold roast potatoes taste considerably better directly from the fridge?

Some questions remain mysteries.

But why is a question we ask surprisingly often...

and deeply ponder surprisingly rarely.

Why Coaching?

Throughout the journey of becoming a coach — including the highs, the lows, the doubts and the excitement of building Coach James — I've repeatedly come back to the same question.

Why am I doing this?

Why coaching?

Why build a business around it?

Why leave the relative certainty of corporate life to start again?

Why put myself out there?

Why write these stories?

Why spend my time sitting with people while they wrestle with their careers, leadership, confidence, purpose and whatever else they bring into the room?

The answer, I've realised, is remarkably simple.

I have found no greater joy in my working life than helping propel people towards their potential.

And when I look backwards, I realise this started long before I ever called myself a coach.

Mike

There was Mike.

When I started working with him, he was already good.

Really good.

The third-best salesperson in the network.

For many people, third would have been enough.

But there was more there.

So we worked together.

We challenged things.

Refined things.

Looked at what separated good from great.

And eventually I got to watch Mike move from third...

to first.

I remember the result.

But what I remember more is the joy of seeing someone realise there was another level in them.

Kevin

Then there was Kevin.

A very different story.

His career wasn't flying.

It was heading towards the ground.

He was on the brink of losing his job.

There are moments in leadership when it would be considerably easier to decide that someone isn't going to make it.

Sometimes that's even the right decision.

But something told me Kevin wasn't finished.

There was still something worth fighting for.

So we did.

He turned it around.

Not for a week.

Not long enough to survive the next performance conversation.

He went on to build long-term success.

And again, I got to watch.

Florence

There was Florence.

She came into a leadership role that, on paper, she probably shouldn't have got.

Wrong industry.

Different working environment.

Missing some of the experience you might ordinarily expect.

But there was something about her.

Potential.

Curiosity.

A desire to learn.

And a calmness that made me believe she belonged.

Over time, I watched her grow.

I watched her wrestle with the things that had held her back.

I watched her discover more of what she was capable of.

And eventually, I watched someone who had once doubted herself become, in my eyes, world-beating.

Anastacia

And there was Anastacia.

She applied for a role in my team.

We spoke on the phone.

And as the conversation unfolded, I realised something.

She shouldn't work for me.

Not because she wasn't capable of the role.

Quite the opposite.

Her experience, wisdom and expertise were well beyond what I had to offer.

She'd reached a point in her career where it would have been easy to see her years as a limitation.

I saw them as an advantage.

So rather than convince her to take my job, the conversation became about helping her recognise what she was actually worth.

Sometimes helping someone move forward means helping them join your team.

Sometimes it means helping them realise they shouldn't.

That's okay too.

Before I Had the Title

There are many more.

More than I could possibly fit into one story.

People I've led.

People I've coached.

People I've mentored.

People I've challenged.

People who've challenged me.

Some succeeded spectacularly.

Some stumbled.

Some took a path I expected.

Others went somewhere completely different.

And there are probably people I've forgotten who remember conversations I no longer do.

But when I look across all those moments, I notice something.

They happened long before I had Coach in my title.

Long before Coach James existed.

Long before I studied coaching formally.

Long before there was a website, a logo, a coaching agreement or a discovery call.

I didn't have the title.

But I think I already had the calling.

A Job and a Purpose Are Different Things

I've had plenty of jobs throughout my career.

Some I've loved.

Some I've endured.

Some taught me what I wanted to do.

Others taught me what I definitely didn't.

But somewhere along the way, I've come to believe there's a difference between a job and a purpose.

A job can get you out of bed.

Purpose keeps you going when the comfort of the bed starts looking considerably more attractive.

Purpose is what survives the difficult days.

It's what brings you back when something doesn't work.

It's what makes the hard parts worth enduring.

Building Coach James has certainly given me opportunities to test that theory.

Starting something yourself is exciting.

It's also terrifying.

There are moments when things work beautifully.

There are moments when they don't.

There are moments when you wonder whether anyone is actually paying attention.

And there are moments when the safe path you left behind starts looking particularly appealing.

That's when why matters.

I Don't Need to Be the Hero

There's something else I've learnt about my why.

I don't need to be the hero of someone else's story.

In fact, I don't want to be.

Mike made the sales.

Kevin turned his career around.

Florence did the growing.

Anastacia recognised her worth and chose what came next.

They did the work.

That's important to me.

My joy isn't in someone succeeding because I rescued them.

It's in watching someone discover that they were more capable than they realised.

Maybe I asked a question.

Maybe I challenged an assumption.

Maybe I saw something in them before they could see it themselves.

Maybe I simply stood in their corner long enough for them to find the courage to take the next step.

But ultimately...

their story belongs to them.

Propelling People Towards Their Potential

That's probably the best way I can describe my why.

I want to help propel people towards their potential.

Not my version of their potential.

Theirs.

I want to see leaders become the leaders they were capable of becoming.

I want to see someone stop believing the story that's been holding them back.

I want to see people find confidence without arrogance.

Purpose without ego.

Success without losing themselves along the way.

And yes, sometimes I want to be there when it doesn't work.

Because failure has stories to tell us too.

Some of the greatest growth I've witnessed — including my own — has emerged from things going spectacularly sideways.

Success gives us something to celebrate.

Failure can give us something to learn.

Both belong in coaching.

My Why

So why did I become a coach?

Perhaps the most truthful answer is:

I think I was becoming one long before I realised it.

Coaching isn't simply the role I chose for the next chapter of my career.

It is the thread I can now see running through much of the career that came before it.

Mike.

Kevin.

Florence.

Anastacia.

And many others.

Different people.

Different circumstances.

Different definitions of success.

But the joy was always the same.

Seeing someone recognise something in themselves.

Watching possibility become action.

Watching action become growth.

And occasionally having the privilege of standing nearby when someone takes a step towards the person they were capable of becoming.

That's my why.

That's why I coach.

And I can't think of many things I'd rather spend the next chapter of my life doing.