I was up for a promotion—one I’d worked toward for two years. My manager had all but confirmed it: “You’re next in line.” I’d taken on extra projects, mentored new hires, and even covered for others during crunch time. Then came the twist.
A colleague—let’s call her Jenna—started cozying up to leadership. She hadn’t put in the same hours or effort, but she was charming, strategic, and knew how to play the politics. I didn’t think much of it until the promotion was announced. It wasn’t me. It was Jenna.
I was stunned. My manager gave me the classic “It was a tough decision” speech. I asked for feedback. He said Jenna had “better visibility” and “stronger executive presence.” Translation: she networked better. I felt betrayed—not just by Jenna, but by a system that rewarded optics over substance.
I swallowed my pride and kept working. But here’s where it gets wild.
Three months into her new role, Jenna started struggling. She didn’t understand the workflows, couldn’t manage the team, and began delegating everything—often back to me. I became her unofficial fixer. Leadership noticed. One exec even asked, “Why aren’t you in this role?”
Then came the reorg. Jenna was quietly moved to a lateral position. I was promoted—not to her old role, but to a newly created one with more scope and visibility. Jenna now reports to me.
She’s civil, but I can tell she resents it. I didn’t gloat. I just did the job I was always meant to do. And now, when people ask how I got here, I say: “By doing the work no one saw—until they couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
