For a long time, I truly believed that my boss was my mentor, if not a father figure; he seemed to look out for me, take a special interest in my career, and generally groom me for promotion within his company. After I did well with responsibility, he’d come through with reasonable raises and he liked to tell people that he believes in promoting women. Recently, though, I’ve noticed that he does little more than flatter me now that he has me doing all the dirty jobs and he keeps all the interesting stuff for himself and two of his favorite “old boys.” He gets irritated whenever I suggest I could do more and likes to bask in the gratitude of his new favorite girl, a secretary with big tits and not much else. I’ve worked hard here over the years, and I don’t really want to find a new job, but I feel like I’ve been used and misled, and generally wasted my time under false pretenses. My goal is to get the recognition I deserve, even if it’s not from the mentor I thought I had.

Wanting recognition at work is a reasonable wish and, if it was just a problem of your learning how to speak up, dress up, and get rid of your braces, then more power to you.

Many people are familiar with the usual fairy stories, and have pushed themselves to be more assertive and reach their dreams. Not only hasn’t it worked, but it brought down crap on their heads to insure an unhappily ever after-style result.

Your sad fable teaches us three important lessons, the first being the most basic and important; life isn’t fair. In most schools or companies or families, you’ll be told that a major goal of leadership is to treat people fairly, and it is. You should also know, however, that many bosses and teachers and parents have big blind spots, particularly those who take great pride in being fair and encouraging you to speak your mind.

The second lesson is to beware of men who talk a big game about how much they support women, because, odds are, these men like to talk a big game about everything; if it’s not feminism, it’s their supreme fishing skills or their golf game. Talk, as you’ve learned, is cheap, which is exactly how he’s made you feel.

Then again, feelings don’t hold such a high premium, either, so don’t use them as an excuse to keep looking for answers.

Of course, you have a right to feel hurt, angry, and disappointed, but those feelings will cause you trouble if you express them. You thought you were knocking yourself out for someone who could unselfishly encourage your career. Now you know better.

Asking why is just another way of trying to control something you can’t, and asking twice means you don’t want to accept that fact. Life is unfair, mentor is actually a blowhard misogynist.

This brings us to the third and most valuable lesson, which is what to look for in a mentor, a major, worthwhile goal for the business school of real life. While it’s reasonable to make the most of a mentorship, remember that it has its limits, and work is just work. Don’t make it your goal to please a mentor. Instead, meet your own standards on the job, appreciate support when you get it, and remember that work is just work.

You’re trying to get ahead, but you’re also trying to build a boundary around work that protects your from taking it too personally. It’s a job, not a fairyland, and you’re not a princess that needs a mentor to save you. Be your own damn hero and slay those paychecks every week. The End.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a coaching statement to start your workday. “It’s time I relied on my own observations to readjust my expectations at work. It’s disappointing that I must disregard what others have promised me but it’s good that I have a clear vision of my own. I won’t let negative feelings interfere with the next step, which is to find the best way to make a living, given the opportunities available.”

A few years ago, a friend proposed to join me on a business venture. She had great networking skills and drive, but I had the ideas and business know-how, so she thought, and I agreed, that our chemistry would be a good fit. Well, after a couple of years into working together, things started to fall apart, because, as many ideas as I had and as good as she was at making contacts, our work styles were just too different, and we weren’t having enough success to continue. I thought she felt the same way—she seemed just as frustrated as I was—but instead, when I suggested that we down-grade our partnership, she was furious at me for what she felt was a personal betrayal. I tried to make it clear that it wasn’t personal, but she wasn’t hearing it, and it wasn’t long before she stopped talking to me entirely. What bothers me as much as the loss of our friendship is that I’m fairly certain she’s stolen a lot my ideas, taking sole credit and passing them off as her own, and I was too trusting to protect myself legally, and I fear she’s too vengeful to be reasonable. Is there any way to get her to be reasonable, or am I just screwed?

If a jilted ex-partner were just feeling mad and hurt, then trying to get them to act reasonably when they feel screwed is a do-able goal. You can expect that, after a while, they’ll remember the good times and what’s in their best interest, and civility will return. But that’s often hoping for too much since feelings, not reason, are steering the ship.

When someone feels terribly wronged, on the other hand, they’re willing to cut off their noses to spite their face because the world won’t be right again until you’re brought down. Letting them know you need anything from them does little more than tell them where you’re most vulnerable. They don’t want to negotiate, they want to destroy.

If you can pretend not to care that much about your ideas, and if you can persuade her that it’s in her interest to sign an agreement about them, then maybe she will. If you show her you would be very upset to see her steal your ideas, then you’re basically handing her a loaded gun.

If you look back, you probably had good reason to know that she’s oversensitive and vindictive. It’s understandable if you believe in ignoring the faults of friends, but that belief shouldn’t cross over to business partners.

In spite of the emotional firestorm, keep your feelings to yourself. Consult a lawyer and check out your options and how much they’ll cost. Then play your cards, if you have any.

If you don’t, you don’t, but when you’re dealing with someone who’s out for blood, it’s better to accept defeat up front than to enter into a war that will leave you absolutely destroyed in the long run.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a positive answer to the internal voice that wails “I’ve been screwed.” “I’ve gained much from this partnership and not the least is a greater appreciation of the risks of being screwed. I won’t let negative feelings get in the way of my doing more work and, if necessary, finding a better partnership.”

I’ve always gotten some attitude at work because I’m a woman (some people seem to act like that’s the only reason I’ve gotten as far as I have), but recently, due to the economy, I’ve been dealing with a lot more disrespect. Frankly, the opposite should be true, and I should be getting loads of appreciation for doing twice the work I used to after so many lay-offs. Instead, people think that it’s not fair that I get to keep my job, and while the sexist stuff was annoying, this recent turn of events has made things almost unbearable. I’m sick of not being appreciated for my talent and hard work and instead having to deal with everyone’s bullshit and bitterness instead. My goal is to get treated appropriately for a job well done, simple as that.

While appreciation certainly makes the job easier—it makes most things in life easier—it doesn’t cut it as a goal, if only because need for appreciation makes you easy prey to anyone who gives you lots of appreciation, twice as much work, and no more pay. I can’t abide your goal to be a sucker.

Appreciation also makes you reactive to other people’s feelings, instead of to your own reasons for being there, so don’t quit a job because everyone at work is critical, and don’t stay because they tell you you’re marvelous.

Remember what you’re working for: money, not love. Unless you’re a bad prostitute.

So life is hard, you don’t have a trust fund, and you need money for survival, independence, self-reliance, and the support of others who depend on you. If appreciation was your first priority, you’d be a volunteer or superhero.

Your goal then is to make as good a living as you can while conserving enough time and energy for the rest of your life, particularly your other responsibilities. It’s to contribute an honest day’s work and, if possible, do something meaningful, and if the peanut gallery doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em.

If you find yourself in a demeaning, bullshit job that you nevertheless think is necessary and better than anything else you can find, respect yourself for doing it. Do it up to your standards, not theirs.

It’s never easy to ignore torment, but think of the nerdy kid teased by Neanderthals; whether he ignores them or fights back, he’s screwed either way. At least you get a paycheck and far fewer wedgies.

STATEMENT:
If you decide the job is necessary and the pain unavoidable, write yourself a statement to protect yourself from the disrespect that is part of the job’s sewage content. “I have my own good reasons for doing this job, in spite of the shitty way I’m treated. It’s a demeaning way to make a living, but I can’t find anything better, though I’ll keep on looking. So I respect myself for working and I will keep up my standards while looking for alternatives.

Ever since my mother died, I’ve been feeling pretty low, and now my wife says I’ve been really hard to be around and wants me to talk to a professional about my grief (I’m writing you instead). It’s true that my mother and I were very close, and losing her has been very, very hard for me, but I think my wife is overreacting. I’m going through a hard time, sure, and maybe I’ve been a little over-reactive, but this is how grief works, and if she can’t handle it, it seems like her problem, not mine. I’ve got a short fuse now, but this’ll pass sooner than later, and I don’t need a doctor to tell me that. My goal is get my wife to realize that I don’t have a problem.

The question here isn’t whether her bad feelings are an over-reaction to your grief; if that were the question, we’ve have to do instant replays of your conversation, listen to your tone of voice, then do a poll of the audience.

In the end, one of you would feel validated and the other would go looking for a more sympathetic friend. A consolation prize of turtle wax might be involved.

People often see couples therapy for that kind of refereeing and, as I’ve said many times, it’s usually a waste of time. The question here isn’t whether she thinks you’ve been mean, but what you think after you’ve examined the evidence.

Of course, when you’re irritated by her being irritating, it’s even more irritating to be told you need to see a shrink. Then, if you dismiss her feelings, she’ll feel worse while having more reason to believe she’s right, and so it goes, back and forth.

Stop it, shut up, and think. Step back from the irritation, then, and be business-like. Gather your own data, re-examine what you said to her and ask people you trust whether you’ve been nasty or mean lately.

Remember, anger is one of the most common and crippling symptoms of depression, and it can destroy relationships at the time you need them the most, making you more depressed. Depressive anger is yet another example of how frequently nature kicks you when you’re down, and how careful you must be to manage yourself during a time of crisis. If you do what comes naturally, your problems almost always multiply.

If you decide that grief is making you nasty and depressed and is driving people away, then your goal isn’t to find a more understanding wife or become a hermit, but to improve your self control and get back to being a guy you can respect.

You can’t get your mother back, but you could lose your wife if you aren’t careful. By the way, self-control hurts, and in the short run, it hurts far more than venting. But that’s the way it is, because in the long run, it hurts less than losing your wife.

If you can’t get enough self-control, or if you can but it’s hurting too much, therapy can help. Not by making you feel better understood (if that’s what you want, you’re heading for trouble), but by helping you improve your self-control while respecting the fact that it’s hard when you’re hurting. It will also help your marriage, and give you a whole new level of appreciation for advice like ours.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to un-justify nastiness as an expression of grief and remind yourself of better goals. “It hurts to want comfort more than I’ve ever wanted it before and feel that I can’t get enough from those who are closest to me. But I didn’t choose my wife because she’s the warmest bosom in the world and, even if she is, I’m not sure any amount of comfort would be enough. I’ve got to manage my grief with whatever comfort is there, not expect more, and not act like a jerk. Later on, if I decide I need more comfort, I’ll try to find it without damaging what I’ve got and what I value.”

Just a few years ago, in my early 20s, I was a fun, outgoing law student at a top tier school, on the cusp of beginning a promising career in a competitive field that I loved. But then, out of no where, my health fell apart. Without getting into it, I was diagnosed with a rare, chronic disease that causes me so much pain and fatigue that even the simplest tasks have become arduous. I had to drop out of school, move back home, and learn to deal, not just with the physical pain of everyday life, but with feelings of failure and being a complete loser. All my old friends are moving upwards and onwards, like I was once set to do, and all I can do is take it slow and try to cope with this new, brutal reality. Plus, because my disease is rare and not physically obvious (I look healthy), several friends and even family members have decided that I’m not sick, but that I just buckled under the competitive pressure of my law career or that I’m just lazy, and am using a fake disease as an excuse. They say things like, “my joints hurt, but I go to work everyday,” and I just want to curl up and die. Between my own disappointment and their cruel judgment, I’ve withdrawn from social interaction almost completely for a year now. My goal is to not completely isolate myself from the world and maybe even start to enjoy some social interaction again despite feeling self-conscious and experiencing such dismissive attitudes from others.

It’s good that you want to get out of your self-imposed solitary confinement—living like that’s unhealthy, even for people who are physically healthy to begin with—but attaching the enjoyment of social interaction onto your goal is not so hot, especially when you’re suffering from a disease that seems to make enjoying anything nearly impossible and gives prospective friends a case of the repulsive willies.

Problem is, despite your best efforts, enjoyment is out of your control, and if you make a big effort to extend yourself socially and run into crap, you’ll feel like a stupid failure and personally rejected, when, really, it’s your standards that are the problem. Yours and everyone else’s.

A better goal is to work at not taking your pain and isolation personally while working out rational standards for what it means to cope with them.

It’s hard not to feel like a failure when you’re no longer meeting expectations that were basic to your career and self-esteem. As a young person, educational institutions teach you to believe that success will follow from hard work and be granted fairly according to merit.

That’s a favorite topic of teachers, principals, and graduation speakers and, of course, it’s pure bullshit. Even the sunscreen crap seems fishy.

It helps motivate those lucky enough to be reasonably gifted, but destroys the self-esteem of the ungifted and those like you who lose their gifts. If you don’t want to take your illness as a personal failure, you must defend yourself from accepting common beliefs that are a part of everyday culture and probably built into your DNA.

You were bright and energetic, now you’re a tired, achy average drone, and you’re fucked. And it’s not personal. What matters is what you do with it.

Your helplessness scares your friends; consciously or subconsciously, they see you, someone who fell so far with no evident cause or cure, and wonder what’s to prevent the same thing from happening to them. You’re the personification of their fear of failure, so of course you’re a pariah. But, just as your affliction was random, their reaction is also not personal. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, but still.

Your job is to construct measures of success that do not depend on normally accepted, idiotic expectations of accomplishment, or the response of bosses or friends. Your basic measure of success is doing the best with what you’ve got, one day at a time, regardless of what others think or how your results compare with those of other days.

Don’t make a big deal out of the good days or you’ll be discouraged by your inability to do the same tomorrow. What’s important is that you push as hard as you can, every day.

Find and spend time with people who’ve survived chronic, debilitating conditions; if those people are interested in holding weekly pity parties, then avoid them in favor of your fellow sufferers who are proud of themselves.

That’s your goal too: not happiness or friendship, but pride in what you’re doing and a refusal to deal with people who do not accept your condition for what it is. Especially when all they see is a reflection of themselves. True friends will still appreciate you for you, particularly for the courage they perceive in your response to sickness, which is much more important than a corner office and law degree.

STATEMENT:
Formulate a positive statement about what you’re doing with yourself that challenges ignorant criticism from others (and yourself). “My ambitions and values have not changed but I’ve had a serious equipment failure that prevents me from doing many of the things that I and others expected me to do. The more disability I’ve encountered, the more I’ve realized that I continue to value work, independence, friendship, and doing good and that there is much I can do to pursue these values, even if it’s far less than what I used to do, want to do, or see others doing. In terms of results, I appear a loser. But I know the effort it takes to deal with my handicap and, whenever I make that effort, I’m a winner. I welcome help and friendship. I’m not interested in advice about doing things I know can’t be done.”

I am the first person to admit that I’ve had a lot of luck in my life: my parents are loving and supportive; my education was top notch and those connections helped me get to an excellent place in my career at a relatively young age; and, my long-time boyfriend is supportive and financially together, so even though I’ve had my heart broken a couple of times, I’m in a great place in my personal life. The problem is—and I do have problems—that, between my seemingly perfect life and my incredibly demanding work schedule, my friends are quick to be resentful, either because I’m doing so much better than they are or because I’m too busy to actually spend time with them (or really figure out how to schedule time with them even when I’m free). And I know they’re true friends, but I can feel them distancing themselves from me and I don’t know what, if anything, I can do about it. I don’t feel like I should have to apologize for all my luck and hard work. My goal is to be proud, not sorry, for what I’ve accomplished, and for my friends to feel the same.

You’ve hit at one of life’s sad paradoxes: that good luck brings its own special kind of pain to which, of course, there’s no complete answer. (Not that bad luck’s pain has an answer, either; see above.)

When you’re good at doing things and work hard, life gets more complicated. You get handed more responsibilities, you have more to be crabby about and less time to relax, and everyone feels you no longer have time for them. And no right to complain.

Or, if you do have time, you’re too busy relaxing to pay attention, so the only person who is really pleased with you is your boss, and you wonder why you’re unhappy and isolated when you’re the luckiest person in the world. And I wonder why the lord was so kind as to find yet another patient who wants to pay to talk to me so that I can make a living without lifting heavy objects.

If your goal is to feel happier or more relaxed, forget it. You’ll just become more self-critical. If it’s to get your friends to cheer you on instead of being needy, resentful and envious, you’re asking for the impossible and your attitude will widen the gulf with your friends. You’re successful and fucked, fucked by success. And you’re not even on drugs.

But if you accept that a successful life forces you into being a constant disappointment to your friends and family, there’s much you can do with it. For one thing, don’t blame yourself or your friends. The fault is that there’s never enough time or energy, and life is life, and someone should have warned you about this in school, but they didn’t (just about the drugs).

If you focus on achievement alone as the source of your pride, your problem will get worse. But if you try for a better balance, you may well be able to keep the inevitable pain and resentment from becoming too bad.

Decide for yourself where you want to draw the line between work and social commitments. Don’t over-respond to the pleasures or prestige of work or the ill-will of “spurned” friends. You’re trying to make the compromise that best reflects your needs and values.

And if you never achieve the perfect balance, congratulations; you’re human. And you’ve finally found one thing you’re not good at.

STATEMENT:
Make a statement to protect yourself and your friends from translating the frustrations of limited social time and energy into feelings of failed friendship. “I love my work and the way I’m developing professionally but it puts unbelievable strain on friendships that I also treasure. I’m gradually learning how to protect my social time, but it’s hard to do when I’m still an apprentice and my assignments seem to take every minute I have. It won’t be like this forever. My long-term goal is to find a better balance and a way to do a good enough job and be a good enough friend. It won’t be easy or always feel good. I won’t ever feel like I’m doing the perfect job as a professional or friend. But I hope that my professional success will give something special to my social life and compensate for the hard compromises and that my friends will appreciate the fact that I’m making good compromises, even when they feel we don’t have enough time.”