STAGNATION

By Raoul Suarez

She used to believe in a simple formula. Work hard enough. Stay long enough. Keep your head down. That was it. That was the path. Maybe one day someone would notice. Maybe a manager would pull her aside. Maybe after a shift or during a review, someone would tell her she’s ready. Without her asking. Without her pushing. No rush. No pressure.

She built her days around that belief. She hit her metrics. She avoided drama. Stayed out of trouble. Daily. Quietly. Consistently. She showed up on days when she didn’t feel like herself. She became the kind of employee you don’t worry about. Dependable. Predictable. Safe. That is also the kind of employee you don’t rush to promote. She didn’t see that yet.

Time passed the way it always does at work. Always measured in shifts, evaluations, and small wins that never really went anywhere. The promotions started happening. She celebrated them. Her turn will come. Some of them deserved it. The effort. The growth. The readiness. It was there.  But there are others that shouldn’t have been there. That’s where the doubt started to creep in.

They were not better than her. They were not more skilled. But they were visible. They always made it a point to be seen. They speak up in meetings even if it doesn’t make sense. They always talk about their contributions no matter how small. They build rapport with managers and make it a point to socialize after work. Dinner. Drinks. Outings. They were always there because invisible people don’t get promoted.

She has gone through so many nights listening to an announcement about a promotion. Another name. Another congratulations. Another round of applause that felt heavier than it should have.

She clapped too, but something didn’t sit right. She knew what she had put in. The extra hours. The silent sacrifices. The times she said yes when she could have said no. Even so, she told herself to be patient. That’s what everyone said anyway. That her time will come. That good things come to those who wait. She believed them. She waited.

She waited through performance reviews that sounded good but meant nothing. Pages filled with praise. Reliable. Consistent. A strong contributor. That was all there was to it. No direction. No movement.

She waited through conversations that hinted at opportunities but never materialized. She listened to people telling her to just keep doing what she was doing, that she was on the right track.

She waited through long shifts where she gave more than what was asked, thinking maybe this would be the moment someone finally noticed. Nothing changed. Same role. Same expectations. Same silence.

The waiting stopped feeling like patience. It started feeling like being stuck. The realization didn’t come all at once. No breaking point. No argument. No moment where everything exploded. It was quieter than that.

One ordinary day, in the middle of an ordinary shift, a thought crossed her mind and refused to leave.

What if no one is going to change this?

She didn’t like the question. She couldn’t ignore it either. When she really thought about it, it made uncomfortable sense. When she stripped away the hope and the assumptions, she realized that no one was coming. Not her manager. Not HR. Not the company.

From where they stood, everything was working exactly as it should. She showed up. She delivered results. She didn’t complain. She made things easier. She was convenient.

Convenience is something that should never be disrupted. It should be maintained. She had made herself easy to keep in place. She was exactly where she was. Not because she lacked the ability, but because she had been waiting for someone else to decide if she deserved more.

She used to believe in that simple formula. Work hard enough. Stay long enough. Keep your head down. That was it. That was the path. Maybe one day someone would notice. Maybe a manager would pull her aside. Maybe after a shift or during a review, and tell her she’s ready. Without the need to ask. Without the need to push. No rush. No pressure.

Waiting feels safe. It feels responsible. It feels mature. You tell yourself you’re being patient. You tell yourself that good things take time. You tell yourself that things will eventually fall into place. While you’re at it, you always have an explanation. The opportunity hasn’t come. It’s just not the right time.

Those reasons sound valid. They protect you from a harder truth. Sometimes, you’re not being overlooked. You’re being used exactly where you are. Nothing has to change. Not for them. Not for you.