VIPs Only

Why your contribution matters more than you think

The title of this post has had me singing the intro to Ice Ice Baby, where Vanilla Ice calls out to his “VIPs” before launching into overly confident lyrics on repeat. If you’re as old as I am, you’ll know exactly what I mean. If not, no need to look it up. Mr Ice isn’t the VIP I’m referring to. You are.

We don’t always appreciate our own importance, and this can scupper our happiness. Recently, I worked with a large group where progress stalled because one participant refused to join in. He wandered around the room as if he wasn’t part of the group at all. Irritated, I called out his behaviour, but it didn’t help. Someone muttered that he was “always like that” and to ignore him. I realised he’d been written off by everyone around him, and I was about to do the same. He seemed to have written himself off, too. In a quiet moment, I told him the work we were doing was important, but added, “So are you. Is something wrong?” He shook his head, but a few minutes later he came to ask me to explain the task again. He didn’t tell me what was going on and still hasn’t, but he joined in rather than sitting unhappily on the sidelines. By the end, he was offering to help others. Perhaps those few words made him feel differently about himself and his contribution.

We don’t always believe what we’re told, and nor should we, but words can work quietly in the background. I learnt this years ago when an older colleague introduced me to Neuro-Linguistic Programming. She asked me to hold my arms out straight and repeat, “I am weak”. She pushed them down easily. Then she told me to repeat, “I am strong”. I remember thinking, “As if saying it will make a difference”. It did. Despite my scepticism, something inside me shifted, and she couldn’t push my arms down. It wasn’t really about strength; it was about what happens when we tell ourselves something about who we are. Our words influence how we show up – including how important we feel.

In one of my first jobs, managing a large team in my twenties, I often doubted my abilities. I didn’t realise how often I talked myself down until a colleague, who was brilliant at impressions, did one of me. “Oh, I’m so stupid!” he said, facepalming. I realised I said this a lot – to myself, in front of my team, and apparently in earshot of the wider office. No wonder I doubted myself.

I had no coaching insights at the time. If I had, I would have asked myself:

• What specifically am I lacking? What is bothering me?

• What do I have to contribute?

• What do I do differently from others in a similar position? What makes me unique?

There were people with far more experience managing other teams. They were older and probably more mature in their outlook, and that wasn’t something I could change overnight. But in hindsight, I brought different strengths. I had a good relationship with my team, and I cared about them. I had a flexible, hands‑on approach because I was still learning. I worked collaboratively and recognised that each person had something to offer. My contribution wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t either. I was important.

Telling ourselves this has nothing to do with arrogance. It’s about recognising that our contribution makes a difference. There is no one quite like you. Your participation doesn’t have to impact many people on a grand scale, but it will always affect some, even in small ways. That makes you important.

Recognising this is the first step to living life the way you want to. It’s the basis for everything. It also comes with responsibility. Our words and actions make a difference, so make them count.

We don’t all need to be as self‑assured as Mr Ice, or agree with his lyrics, but we could adopt his approach. When you’re not feeling that important, remind yourself that your contribution counts. Use a catchy mantra based on your answers to the questions above, and always refer to yourself as a VIP 😉.