After hitting “publish” on my last post, I realized I’d done something dangerous. I’d hit a nerve. My own.

I admitted, in black and white, that I am currently at work strictly for the paycheque. It has been bugging me ever since. It’s as if I’ve inadvertently accepted a position that I previously found beneath me—that being “just here for the money” is a form of professional bankruptcy. There is a lingering, nagging voice in my head suggesting that if the pay is the only reason I’m punching the clock, then I should have the integrity to walk away right now.

It feels like I’m half-assing it. In some ways, I suppose I am. But in others, I’m providing the same “Typical Value” I’ve delivered for thirty years. I have made the tweaks, I’ve optimized the team, and I’ve cleared the path for better performance. Yet, because I am not frantic—because I feel disconnected from the corporate “why”—I feel like I’m taking advantage of the Empire.

The Interview Truth

I wasn’t a total mercenary in taking this job. I actually explained to the person responsible for hiring me that I was here “for a good time, not a long time.” I said it right there in the interview.  They have worked with me in the past and know what I can do. They hired me anyway even with my 12 month timeline.

Since then, I have delivered. I’ve checked the boxes:

• Core Staff: Optimized and in place.
• Resourcing: Scaled to meet demand.
• Opportunities: Created growth paths for key Stormtroopers.
• Delegation: Established a system that functions without my constant intervention.

I’ve made the right moves without engaging in the typical company bullshit. But those “Big Moves” are over. Now, it’s time for the “Next Level,” and that is where the rub lies. I know I could do more. I could push harder. The veteran Engineer in me knows there are always more efficiencies to squeeze out of the stone. But do I need to?

The “Docile” Stigma

This week, my internal tension came to a head. During a meeting, one of my managers called me “Docile.”

I’ve written before about how the choice of words is important. This one left a mark. To me, “docile” isn’t a professional compliment; it means tame, a pushover, or—worst of all—weak. I was more than a little surprised, and frankly shocked, that a manager would use that word in front of other staff.

I immediately started a mental inventory of my accomplishments to justify my approach. I’m not docile, I told myself, I’m efficient. I don’t like getting involved in the day-to-day because I’ve built a team that doesn’t need me to. If the machine is running perfectly, why should I throw myself into the gears just to look “busy”?

ok maybe me a little more docile as I have gotten older – Earl Grey anyone?

But as I sat with the insult, a cold realization settled in: Even though I perceive “docile” as a negative, it is an accurate description of my current state. I have been tame. I have been quiet. During this “honeymoon phase” at the new Death Star, it has actually worked.

It certainly isn’t how I would have been perceived at any of my previous jobs. In the first year or two of a new role, I was usually the one with the thermal detonator, blowing up old processes to build better ones. So, what changed?

The Countdown Clock

The answer is the ticking clock.

When you know you might be gone in 4.5 months—when the “Midnight” of retirement is that close—it acts as a physical barrier to engagement. It’s hard to care about a five-year strategic plan when you’re looking at a 135-day calendar. I do the bare minimum most days. I build the team, I step to the side, and I chant the mantra: “Not my clowns, not my circus.”

This “Quiet approach” has worked until now, but the winds are shifting. A new “Emperor” from corporate starts soon. There will be the usual dance of trying to make everyone happy without understanding the local needs. There are processes I need to fix and politics I’ll be forced to play.

I have been uncomfortable with the political games so far, but I can feel myself sinking into them. If I remain “docile” during this transition, it won’t just be my ego that suffers—it will be bad for my Stormtroopers. They need a leader who will shield them from the corporate nonsense, not a “tame” Engineer waiting for his date.

The Natural Speed of the Role

Every role has a “natural speed.” If you try to change a culture or a process too fast it ends up tearing itself apart. I’ve found the natural speed of this current Death Star, and it’s slower than I’m used to.

At 53, my own “natural speed” has shifted too. I’ve moved from sprinting to coasting at altitude. Coasting still requires a pilot—you still have to monitor the gauges and adjust the flaps—but it doesn’t require the afterburners. The guilt comes from the fact that I’m being paid for “afterburner energy” while I’m delivering “glider efficiency.”

The Ethical Exit

So, I have a choice to make.

I can decide to fully engage for this final stretch. I can push through the “docile” label, play the politics, and fight the new Emperor to ensure the team is bulletproof. Or, I can continue to hide for 18 weeks and run for the escape pod the second the clock strikes zero.

If I am not going to do more, I owe it to the organization to get the team perfectly set up, and once my intended value is added, exit stage left. I should make room for someone who wants to work at a higher RPM.

Is it “taking advantage” of the Death Star? Yes. I’m honest enough to admit that. But the real question is: Is the value I’ve already provided enough to justify the paycheque I’m currently collecting? The answer is Yes.

In the Empire, results usually matter more than “spirit.” I’ve delivered the results. Now, I just have to figure out if I can live with being the “Docile Pilot” for the final few miles of the flight.

so close yet so far to the finish line ?