Your job title is hurting your happiness

But what’s in a name, or rather, a title? And why should we all reconsider our titles? I know I have.

Titles matter in the business world because they define you — or rather, they define your role and what you do in a company. They are important for, well, other people. Titles signal to others when it’s appropriate to approach you for something — be it a question or a task. But there’s another way to look at titles: they also shape how others perceive your value within an organization. Your title may reflect how important someone else thinks you are.

If that’s not enough, remember that your title matters for when you decide to look elsewhere. The title that was bestowed upon you by your superiors will help future employers catalog you. And let’s face it — so many people do far more than their titles suggest. They carry responsibility, work long hours, sacrifice weekends. You care, I know you do. But hey, it’s not you — it’s your title. Sorry about that.

So what happens when people want to move forward but are stuck with a definition they didn’t like or a title that doesn’t match the workload and compensation?

We love boxes — especially at work. We crave labels, titles, definitions.

Recently, I read a blog post about why titles matter in a company. I believe it’s an outdated concept. We should know who’s in charge of what based on their role, not their title. This idea is reflected in frameworks like Scaling Up or EOS, where next to each task or responsibility is the name of the person in charge. If done right, everyone knows who to reach out to, without titles getting in the way. Yet, most companies are too lazy, too disorganized, or too successful to bother with these concepts. So they fall back on titles. It’s easier that way.

But I come from a different place. My title, my work — I don’t fit neatly into any of your boxes. And more than that, I don’t want to. I want a title that defines me, rather than how others perceive me.

When I started my career in sales, I realized something: “salesman” wasn’t a great title. While sales drive the world and train some of the best managers and storytellers I’ve ever met, it’s still seen as a low-level title. We’ve got a bad reputation, probably due to pushy salespeople. “Sales manager” helped a bit, but not enough.

Then I moved to marketing — eventually, I held a CMO title. That title worked in retail, but it wasn’t really me. Over time, I accumulated many titles: content writer, consultant, business owner, business partner, entrepreneur (which these days, honestly, can mean anything — just ask a seven-figure OnlyFans creator).

I struggled with the title of CEO when I had my marketing agency, and even with “author” when I wrote my first novel (though I think “author” might be one of my favorites). Teaching at college gave me a lot of satisfaction. But the business world and its obsession with titles? I couldn’t escape from that box.

One day, I was invited to a meeting at a tech company. A dozen people with titles so grand I could barely understand them sat in a boardroom, waiting to discuss a marketing plan. They were proud of their titles, so proud. After leaving that office, I made a decision: I was going to change mine.

I became the Chief of Happiness. This was about seven or eight years ago. I called my COO, and within a week, I had my new business cards printed. That title became my guiding light. It helped me focus on bringing positivity and my best work into the world.

I remember a group of Japanese clients running toward me in a Macau casino, shouting my title with their heavy accents. They couldn’t remember my name, but they remembered how I made them feel. I recall a woman telling me she’d kept my card next to her keyboard for two years, using it as a reminder to keep going on tough days. It made people smile, and through that, I was able to help.

But now, it’s time for a change. It’s time to say goodbye to a title that served me so well as a creative and defined who I was. The past year hasn’t been easy for me — personally, romantically, professionally, or financially. I’ve changed, and I’ve realized that my work, my craft, and my ability to help people have become more aligned than ever before. I’m helping people transform how they perceive life and business, turning around brands and teaching them how to scale. It’s time I assumed a new title:

Chief Reality Officer

I’m here to give it to you straight. Over the past 18 months, I’ve been reimagining life, my life. I’m leaving my apartment, packing my backpack, and heading out armed with ideas and a laptop. I’m going to create a better tomorrow by looking at today — using my writing and imagination to help people like you see a different reality.

I’m tired of the fluff and niceties that get us nowhere. It’s time to try new things, move faster, and get real. Most of what needs to be done can be done today — not tomorrow. And most of it can be done through writing and storytelling.

So here’s my ask: **Are your titles defining you?** Why can’t we define our own? Maybe it’s time our work experience — not our titles — determined our next job or compensation. Let’s leave titles behind — they’re an old way of doing things.

Take control of your title. Make it a reflection of who you are and the impact you bring, not just a label. Don’t let your title define you — let your work speak for itself.

What’s your new title? Share it in the comments so we can celebrate together.