How Do I Show My Value at Work?

A Story About Making Your Real Contribution Visible to the People Who Matter

How Do I Show My Value at Work?
A Story About Making Your Real Contribution Visible to the People Who Matter

How do I show my value at work? You stop pointing at the deliverable and start showing the thinking behind it — because your value was never the thing that got produced. It was the judgement that made it right, and judgement is invisible until you make it visible. Let me tell you a story about a man whose work shaped everything around him, and who kept measuring it by the wrong yardstick.

Yuuki is a character I created — his situation will be familiar to anyone whose contribution is real, and doesn’t take the form their company rewards.

The Work Nobody Could See

Yuuki was forty-two, a service designer, and the person whose fingerprints were on everything and visible on nothing.

His job was to design how a whole service held together — the path a customer travelled from first contact to resolution, the places it flowed and the places it caught, the way work owned by five different teams was supposed to add up to a single, seamless experience. When he did it well, it disappeared. A service that works is one you never notice: the snags gone, the complaints quiet, the whole thing just easier — and nobody able to say quite why, or to point at Yuuki and say he did that.

It had become a quiet problem in his working life. In a company that measured contribution in deliverables — features shipped, code written, sales closed, tickets resolved — Yuuki’s work was the connective tissue between all of it, and connective tissue doesn’t show up on anyone’s dashboard. He’d sit in reviews where people presented their finished work, held it up, pointed at it. And when it came to him, he’d struggle — not because he couldn’t describe what he did, but because his contribution didn’t take that shape. It wasn’t a thing he’d produced. It was the way all the produced things fit together.

He’d started to feel that to be valued, he’d have to become someone who produced visible deliverables instead — to abandon the very work that made him good. The thing he hadn’t understood was that his value was entirely showable. He’d just been measuring it by the wrong yardstick — the same yardstick everyone else used, the one that only counts the finished thing with your name on it.

The Question He Asked Himself

The shift didn’t come from anyone else. No leader singled him out in a meeting; that had never happened, and Yuuki had stopped expecting it. It came from a quiet, uncomfortable evening after a review where, once again, he’d sat with nothing to hold up while everyone around him showed their work.

He went home genuinely wondering whether he was as valuable as he’d always believed, or whether the absence of anything to point at meant there was less there than he’d thought. And rather than sit in the doubt, he did something he’d never done: he looked back, carefully, at the three services he’d worked on that year, and asked himself a plain question — when a service went from frustrating to smooth, what actually did that?

The answer, when he traced it honestly, wasn’t the new interface everyone had praised. It wasn’t the faster response times. Those had all helped, but on their own none of them would have shifted anything. What had moved things was that the customer used to hit three dead ends in a row — and Yuuki had found where they were, worked out which team owned each, and got them fixed in the order the customer actually experienced them. Not the interface. The sequence. The seeing of the whole path, and the diagnosis of exactly where it broke.

And sitting there, he understood what he’d been getting wrong for years. He’d been trying to prove his value the way everyone around him proved theirs — by pointing at a deliverable, a finished thing with his name on it. But his contribution had never taken that form. It was the thinking. The seeing. The judgement about sequence, and about how separate pieces should fit into a whole. He’d been holding his work up against a yardstick built for a different kind of contribution — and by that yardstick it kept coming up short, until he’d half-concluded there was nothing there. There was. He’d just been measuring the wrong thing.

Why Real Value Is Hard to Show

Here is the mechanism, and it traps a particular kind of valuable person.

Some of the truest work never becomes a single deliverable — and we try to prove our value by pointing at deliverables. If your contribution is a feature, a report, a sale, you can point to it: there it is, that’s mine. But if your contribution is judgement — seeing what others miss, connecting what others treat separately, knowing the right sequence, seeing the whole where others see parts — it doesn’t gather into one finished thing with your name on it. So you either stay silent, or you scramble to claim some visible deliverable that isn’t really the point. And when neither works, you can start to doubt the value is even there.

Yuuki’s value was his thinking, and thinking is invisible until it’s spoken. While he pointed at the interface, he was pointing at someone else’s deliverable and undersaying his own contribution. The moment he described how he’d seen the problem — the dead ends, the sequence, the whole path — the invisible thing became visible, and it turned out to be the clearest and strongest contribution there was.

You don’t show your value by finding a deliverable to attach it to. Yuuki’s value didn’t live in a deliverable, and never would. You show it by making your thinking visible — by describing what you saw, how you understood it, and what your judgement made possible. The finished thing was never the value. The judgement that shaped it was.

What Yuuki Recognised

Once he’d traced that first thread, the rest came. He looked at his own work not as a set of invisible contributions but as three things he could actually show — and found them.

A success. The customer journey turnaround. Not the interface, not the response times — the sequencing, the seeing of the whole path and the diagnosis of exactly where it broke. That was his, it was decisive, and it was entirely describable once he stopped pointing at deliverables and started describing his thinking.

A failure — the quiet kind. Years of doing exactly this, and measuring it against a yardstick that couldn’t hold it. Every review where he’d fumbled for something to point at, undersold himself, and left people vaguely aware he was useful without knowing why. The value was real every time. The failure was in judging it by the wrong measure — and, worse, in starting to believe that if it didn’t show up as a deliverable, it might not be there.

A passion. When he looked at what truly drew him, it was the whole. Not the parts, not the components other people owned — the experience of the person moving through the entire thing, and the deep satisfaction of making a broken, snagging, frustrating path feel like it simply flowed. He couldn’t not see the whole. It was underneath every turnaround he’d ever quietly produced.

Three things. None of them a deliverable. All of them the value he’d been creating, unshowable only because he’d been measuring it by the wrong yardstick.

The Value, Made Visible

Yuuki didn’t change his work. He changed how he made it seen.

In his next review, he didn’t hunt for a deliverable to point at. He showed his thinking: “Here’s what I did this quarter. Three services were snagging in ways nobody could quite locate. I mapped how customers actually moved through each one, found the exact points where the path broke — usually where two teams’ work met and neither owned the join — and I sequenced the fixes to the customer’s experience, not the org chart. That’s why they stopped abandoning halfway through. What I do is see the whole path and find where it breaks. It doesn’t produce a thing you can hold up. It produces a service that works.”

His manager saw it — clearly, for the first time — because Yuuki had finally shown the part that was actually valuable.

He wasn’t more capable that day than he’d been for years. He was exactly as good as he’d always been.

He’d simply stopped measuring his value by the finished thing, and started showing his judgement — which was the value all along.

Within months, Yuuki was being brought into projects at the start rather than called in to fix them late — because the company could finally see the thing he did, and wanted it early, where it counted.

How to Show Your Value: What Yuuki’s Story Shows

Some real value never becomes a single deliverable — so stop looking for one to point at. If your contribution is judgement, connection, seeing the whole, it won’t gather into a finished thing with your name on it. Trying to prove it that way undersells you every time.

Show the thinking, not the task. “I designed the interface” points at a deliverable that isn’t really yours. “I found where the whole path broke, and fixed it in the order the customer felt it” shows the judgement that is. The thinking is the value.

Invisible isn’t the same as absent. Yuuki’s work was invisible because thinking is invisible until it’s spoken, not because it wasn’t there. When you can’t point to your value, doubting it exists is the trap. Describe it instead.

Don’t become someone else to be seen. Yuuki nearly abandoned the work he was good at to produce visible deliverables instead. The answer was never to change the work. It was to show the real value in it.

Your three stories hold the whole of it. A success that shows your judgement in action, a failure that shows the cost of measuring it wrongly, a passion that shows why the work is yours. Named and connected, they make the invisible visible.

You Already Have Value Worth Showing

Years held everything Yuuki needed. He hadn’t been failing to contribute — he’d been contributing in a form his company didn’t know how to measure, and measuring himself the same wrong way. The success that revealed his real judgement. The failure of the wrong yardstick. The reason seeing the whole was his.

Yours are there in the same way — in all the work whose value is real and hard to point at, because it lives in your thinking rather than in a finished thing you can hold up.

Continue the Work

And if you want to go deeper — recognising your three stories and the value inside each; giving that value a frame that fits, so others can finally see it; and turning the same recognition outward, to draw out the value in the people around you — that is what my new Professional Self-Coaching resource is for. The thinking, the sequence, the questions and the frameworks a coach would bring to hours of one-to-one work, placed in your hands, to work through in your own space and time.

GET THE RECOGNITION: Professional Self-Coaching for Being Seen for the Value You Create — Tell the Three Stories That Reveal the Strategic Value Hidden Inside Your Everyday Work — Make Visible What You’ve Been Doing All Along, So the Right Opportunities Can Find You

Work With Me: Individual WorkLife Coaching, Commissioned Learning Resources, Speaking Engagements and Organisational Partnerships.

Support This Work: Your support makes a difference and helps me to continue creating resources that are accessible to everyone. Thank you. Carmel

Listen to the audio version here:

Share These Learning Resources 

These resources are designed as short, effective learning experiences—for individuals managing their own development and companies supporting their people’s growth.

If you think this learning resource story would be helpful to others, share it forward.


Discover more from schoolofworklife.com

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Published by Carmel O' Reilly

I'm Carmel O'Reilly, founder of School of WorkLife. I use story-based learning — characters in real WorkLife scenarios — to help people develop their working lives, through Story Lessons, Guided Programmes, and Professional Self-Coaching resources, and the WorkLife Stories podcast. Irish, London-based, and endlessly drawn to a good story.