Can vs. Should
The book’s central distinction. “I can do that” is a capability claim and says nothing about fit. Most careers are built entirely out of cans. Can describes the full menu of possibility. Should requires a filter.
FROM THE BACK OF THE BOOK
Throughout the book I use a few potatoes, pineapples, couches, plywood sheets, and other perfectly normal words to mean things they absolutely don’t mean in ordinary conversation. Some are borrowed. Some are original. Here are fifteen of them. The full glossary runs to more than fifty and lives in the back of the book.
The book’s central distinction. “I can do that” is a capability claim and says nothing about fit. Most careers are built entirely out of cans. Can describes the full menu of possibility. Should requires a filter.
The uniform, legible, easily categorized professional shape that hiring systems are built to find and slot. Efficient, defensible, and not what humans actually are.
The particular combination of attributes that makes a person unique and unusually well suited to certain contexts. Our distinct quality and value.
Any environment, a company, an industry, a culture, that rewards broadly useful, predictable behaviors and deprioritizes everything else. Valleys don’t recruit people who fit the mold so much as create the mold and reward those who force themselves into it.
A better environment that’s still an enclosure. Nicer water, same walls.
Availability masquerading as performance. Any signal we maintain as evidence that we’re doing well even though it has little to do with what matters.
The internalized voices that argue for someone else’s path in the language of safety and reason. Five species: Professional, Societal, Family, Past Self, and Future Self. They never die. They grow up and learn to argue in the language of our current values.
The set of options we can perceive. More options don’t improve our odds of choosing well and can paralyze us, but it’s very hard to choose something that never made it onto the table.
The hundreds of thousands of small, ordinary tasks that fill a career, as opposed to the hero moments on the cover of the picture book.
The externally legible professional identity built from titles, credentials, employers, and roles. Useful, temporary, incomplete, and frequently on loan. Check inside for the embossed “Property of.”
The organization, seen as a structure of work that needs doing. A board with holes cut to the shape of the tasks it needs filled.
Preserving a once-successful decision as a permanent constraint, so every new circumstance has to be organized around the old solution long after its fit has changed.
A boundary that was undoubtedly a blocked path at one time and that we stopped testing long ago. Boundaries age. Not all of them are still live.
Money, correctly understood. Not the point of the game but what buys extra lives. Coins purchase recoverability, the ability to make one wrong move without ending everything.
A shorthand for the role we most naturally occupy on a crew, regardless of what the org chart says.
Nothing matches that one. It might be in the other forty.
Definitions reflect how the words are used in Shouldology, which is to say not how anyone else uses them.