I did not take enough risks. I optimized for security and titles, not learning and fit, and ended up in roles that didn't fit me and slowed my growth. The change I made was to opt for fast feedback over safe progress. I began pursuing roles that would teach me quickly what I did well and actually enjoyed. And I worked hard when the learning was real. And I picked up and moved when better opportunities arose. But I also quit the ones I was obviously terrible at, instead of trying to make them work. It was that shift that helped me leave the corporate track and pursue something with more impact in the education and career space.
I'm Jeanette Brown, a relationship and leadership coach and late life founder in my early 60s. The mistake I used to make in career goal setting was choosing goals that sounded impressive instead of goals that actually fit my life. I'd aim for "more" by default, more visibility, more projects, more momentum, and then wonder why I felt stretched thin and strangely unsatisfied even when things were going well. The single change I made was this: I started setting goals around a sentence, not a ladder. I ask myself what I want people to be able to say I helped them do a year from now, and I build my priorities around that. It keeps me from chasing shiny opportunities, protects my energy, and it makes progress feel clean instead of noisy. Cheers, Jeanette Brown Founder of jeanettebrown.net
I made the mistake of setting goals based on what sounded impressive rather than what would actually move the work forward. Early in my career, my goals were vague and outcome-heavy — things like "grow fast", "be recognized", or "build something big". They looked ambitious on paper, but they didn't help me make better decisions day to day. When things didn't move as expected, I couldn't tell whether I was off track or just chasing the wrong target. The single change I made was switching from aspirational goals to constraint-based ones. Instead of asking, "What do I want to achieve?" I now ask, "What problem do I want to remove, and under what constraints?". Time, cash flow, and team capacity — those boundaries force clarity. They turn goals into practical operating decisions rather than motivational statements. This shift has shaped how I build and lead today as Founder & CEO of Tinkogroup, a data services company. Clear constraints keep goals grounded, measurable, and far more useful — especially when conditions change.
In the beginning, I made the critical error of concentrating on "destination goals" - specific end results such as revenue targets or employee counts. I gradually came to understand that simply meeting these desired outcomes does not equal success in achieving a sustainable business model. By concentrating exclusively on the finish line (in this case, hitting a target figure), I would tend to overlook any problems arising within the business that might impact future results. I began practice changing my approach by using "input-driven" goal setters. Instead of focusing only on the outcome, I started using specific, repeatable actions that were tied to the outcome and setting goals against those actions; for instance, instead of having a goal to "increase client retention," I began to set a goal to hold a fixed number of proactive strategy reviews per month. This adjustment put me back in control of my daily activity and subsequently shifted my thinking from an outcome-based perspective to one based on the habits that truly create growth. Research into the way businesses grow reinforces our view within CISIN that having "process-oriented" (input-driven) goals can help reduce the levels of stress related to high-stakes outcomes (the "all-or-nothing" mentality). Ultimately, by concentrating on the inputs, the outcomes tend to come naturally. You will avoid falling into the trap of the "arrival fallacy," or the feeling of emptiness or paralysis when you reach a large milestone. Growth typically comes with more noise than one anticipates. Distractions abound due to all of the positive visual indicators that tell the story; however, the majority of the "real work" takes place in the day-to-day activities that go unnoticed by most people. By setting goals based on the inputs that generate results, you re-establish your feeling of control and engagement that are often displaced by the intensity of focus required to meet an output-based goal.
Early in my career as a stress management coach, I made the mistake of setting goals based on urgency and comparison instead of alignment. I was focused on making money quickly, so I signed up for multiple online programs and business coaching, believing that if I followed the "right" formula, success would come faster. Instead, I felt drained and discouraged. I spent a lot of time, energy, and money, yet only a few things actually worked for me. It seemed like others could take the same programs and succeed almost instantly, while I struggled to force myself into approaches that didn't feel natural. The turning point came when I stopped trying to follow what I thought I should be doing and started doing what genuinely felt right to me. That shift changed everything. I began setting goals and action steps based on what I believed in and trusted would work for me—not what someone else's formula promised. The single change I made was this: I stopped bullying myself into goals and started choosing actions I believed were possible and sustainable. That's now what I teach my clients as well. Real progress happens when goals are aligned with belief—because without belief, no plan will ever stick.
Early in my career, I used to set goals that sounded good but meant nothing in practice. Things like "become a senior leader" or "move into strategy" felt motivating, but my calendar never changed. Weeks went by, effort went everywhere, and I had no idea if I was making progress. The change I made was simple but at the same time hard, as I stopped writing outcome goals and started defining what someone in that role actually does every week. Then I committed to doing those things. Two written strategy memos per month. One cross-team review every Friday - no skipping. That made a huge difference, and my progress became visible in literal weeks. Opportunities also followed because my work already looked like the next level. Now I skip vague goals. If something can't change what I do each week, I don't bother with it.
When I became a manager for the first time at MBE, I made the mistake of focusing too much on achieving targets quickly and trying to do everything myself. Because I already knew how to complete the tasks, I felt that explaining them to others would take too much time, so I preferred to handle them on my own. This resulted in having too much on my plate, and more importantly, it prevented my team members from learning, making mistakes, and growing. The single change I made was to shift my mindset from "doing" to "developing." Now, I actively delegate responsibilities and encourage my team members to take ownership and show initiative. I hold weekly one-on-one meetings with each team member to support them, provide guidance, and create a safe environment where they feel comfortable sharing both good and bad news. At MBE, we strongly value one-on-one communication, not only with our clients but also with our colleagues, and I use these meetings to build trust, strengthen relationships, and support individual growth. I also make it clear that I take final responsibility, so my team is not afraid to take on new challenges and learn from mistakes.
Early in my journey, I made the mistake of setting a goal defined mainly by scale, aiming to build a billion-dollar tech company without fully weighing what it would demand of my life. During my transition to a venture-backed CEO at Eved, tying success to valuation and speed led to sacrifices I did not anticipate. The change I made was simple: I now set goals by first aligning them with the life I want, with family at the center. I define progress by the quality of our leadership and operating discipline, not just the end number. That shift helps me make better decisions over the long haul and stay true to what matters most.
One mistake I made early in my career was setting goals that were based purely on short-term output—things like revenue targets or hours worked—rather than on building assets that would compound over time. I was very focused on "working harder this year" instead of asking whether that work would make my life easier next year. This led to burnout and periods where progress stalled as soon as I reduced effort. The single change I made was shifting my goal-setting from outcomes to leverage. Instead of asking "What do I want to achieve this year?", I now ask "What can I build or invest in that will keep delivering value even if I step back?" That change pushed me to focus on things like SEO, proprietary software, and reusable processes—decisions that ultimately unlocked sustainable growth and much better work-life balance.
At first, my career goals were driven by titles, I focused on getting jobs instead of measuring my contributions. As a result, even though I was able to achieve my goals on paper, the work I did did not have any tangible effect. The biggest difference for me has been changing my focus to measuring performance based on outcome. Instead of measuring what type of job I had, I now measure performance based on what skills I developed, the amount of revenue I had an effect on, or what problems I was able to solve. Because of this, the titles associated with my work now come naturally after I achieve measurable results.
I used to make very long and heavy goal lists. Every year and even every quarter I would write ten or fifteen goals and tell myself that being ambitious meant doing more. What actually happened was confusion. My attention was always split and at the end of the quarter i felt busy but not satisfied because nothing felt fully done. The single change i made was deciding to focus on one main outcome per quarter. Not one task but one clear result that truly matters. Everything else now supports that outcome instead of competing with it. This shift completely changed how I work and how I feel about progress. With fewer goals my decisions became easier. I stopped saying yes to things that looked good but did not move the main outcome forward. My energy improved because my mind was not constantly jumping between priorities. Even when work got hard i felt calmer because i knew exactly what mattered most in that phase. This approach also helped me build confidence. Finishing one meaningful goal every quarter created momentum. Over time those small focused wins added up more than any long list ever did. Now when i set goals i ask one question first. If i achieve only this one thing will it still be a successful quarter. That clarity is what i was missing before and it is what i protect the most now.
I think the single biggest mistake I made was putting too much faith and trust in certain people on my team. At the time, I perceived them as loyal and dependable, but after they left, it became clear they weren't loyal to the team or the work—only to themselves—and that the job wasn't being done the way I believed it was. The change I made as a result was to learn to be more hands-on and intentional in oversight. I now make sure I'm actively monitoring my staff, confirming that work is being done properly, in line with expectations, and as represented. That shift helped me protect both the quality of the work and the team's health.
I was guilty of not defining specific goals when I was just starting out. I just made generic ones that had no benchmarks between where I was and where I wanted to be. I knew my end goal, I just didn't have any reference points to gauge progress. To address this, I broke down my goals into smaller ones with measurable and defined benchmarks and realistic timeframes. The addition of these benchmarks helped hold me personally accountable because they gave me some points to refer back to whenever I completed a goal. They made my goals feel attainable and allowed me to make adjustments much earlier.
One mistake I made early in my career was setting goals based too much on titles and timelines instead of on the skills and experiences I actually needed to grow. I was focused on "where I should be by when," rather than asking whether each role was truly building the depth, judgment, and exposure that would matter long term. The change I made was shifting to skill-based goal setting. Instead of chasing the next title, I now ask, "What capabilities do I want to have a year from now, and what work will get me there?" That shift led me to seek out roles and projects that stretched me technically and strategically, and it's made my career path feel both more intentional and more resilient.
I used to pick career goals that sounded good when I told people about them. The problem was I never asked if I'd actually like the work itself. So I ended up in jobs that looked great from the outside but felt miserable on the inside. Now I focus on whether the daily tasks energize me and whether the environment fits my personality. If I can't picture myself doing the actual work without dreading it, the impressive title doesn't matter.
The biggest mistake: setting my career goals based on what was successful for other people. Now I look inside for what feels sparkly and follow that. The greatest impact, and thus success, always comes from following what lights you up.
Early in my career, I made the classic mistake of setting goals that sounded impressive—without ever asking if they were actually aligned with what I wanted. My targets looked great on paper: bigger titles, better salaries, name-brand companies. But they were borrowed goals—ambitions shaped by what others admired, not what I valued. The result? I hit milestones that felt hollow. I achieved goals I didn't even want. The turning point came when I landed a role that checked every traditional box: high-paying, fast-paced, publicly respected. But within months, I was burned out. I had no energy for life outside of work. I'd lost interest in the things that once made me curious. That's when I realized the problem wasn't just the job—it was the why behind the job. I was chasing validation, not vision. A former mentor helped me reframe everything with one simple but powerful question: "What kind of problems do you actually want to spend your life solving?" That single shift—from outcome-based goals to value-based direction—changed everything. Now, instead of obsessing over end results, I filter career goals through what I call "emotional ROI." Will this stretch me in ways I enjoy? Will this give me energy, not just recognition? Will this keep me learning and aligned with how I want to show up in the world? A client I worked with last year, Melissa, had a similar realization. She'd spent a decade trying to climb the management ladder in fintech—until she admitted she didn't actually enjoy managing people. She loved systems, strategy, and innovation. Together, we rebuilt her goals around becoming a principal strategist. Not a manager, but a trusted expert. She now earns more, works fewer hours, and feels aligned for the first time in years. According to a recent McKinsey study, professionals with self-authored career goals—defined by values, not just metrics—report 31% higher job satisfaction and are twice as likely to remain resilient during career pivots. The mistake I made wasn't ambition. It was outsourcing my definition of success. Now, I set goals not to impress others, but to stay in integrity with myself. And that change has made all the difference.
Early in my plumbing career, I set a goal to "run the best plumbing company in Orange County." Sounds great, right? Problem was, I had no idea what "best" actually meant or how to measure it. I just kept working harder, taking more calls, hiring more guys--but nothing felt different. The turning point came when I left my previous employers specifically because I was angry about *how they treated customers*. That became my new goal: stop one overcharge per week. Not vague excellence--an actual number tied to real billing decisions. Every estimate I wrote, I asked myself if the previous shop would've padded it. If yes, I cut it. That single shift--making goals about *preventing specific bad outcomes* rather than chasing fuzzy good ones--changed everything. When we started the Huntington Beach Manor Haunted House for charity, the goal wasn't "give back to the community." It was "raise enough to buy Thanksgiving dinners for 50 families" (we're doing Marie Callender's meals this year). Concrete target, clear success metric. Now every business decision gets the same test: can I count it? Our 42 years in business came from hitting small, countable goals--not from chasing some impossible definition of "best."
Early in my career, I set revenue goals without tying them to execution timelines. I'd say "grow this client to $5M" but had no clarity on *when* specific milestones needed to happen or what tactical steps would get us there by those dates. It made everything feel overwhelming and impossible to track. The shift happened after I missed a major growth target because our team was executing well but in the wrong sequence. I started breaking every goal into 90-day sprints with specific campaign launches, conversion rate benchmarks, and team checkpoints. When we onboarded Princess Bazaar, instead of just aiming for their 20% sales increase, we mapped out week-by-week: Phase 1 was reducing wasted spend through smart shopping campaigns in weeks 1-3, Phase 2 was restructuring from branded to category campaigns in weeks 4-6, then scaling from there. Now every goal has a dated roadmap with measurable checkpoints every 30 days maximum. If I can't tell you exactly what should be different by the end of this month versus next month, the goal isn't ready yet. The difference is I can course-correct fast instead of realizing six months in that we're off track.
Early on, I set a goal to "grow America Roofing's service area across all of Arizona" because expansion sounded like what a VP should chase. I burned six months pursuing Flagstaff contracts before realizing our crews were exhausted from the drive, materials behaved differently in that climate, and our Phoenix-honed monsoon expertise didn't translate to snow country. We won the work but lost money and team morale. The shift: I stopped setting goals around geographic footprint and started asking "what problem are we the *best* at solving?" Turned out it was tile roof systems in extreme heat--valleys that stay clear during haboobs, underlayment that survives 110deg installs, crews who know how to hydrate and stage safely. I scrapped the Flagstaff push and doubled down on Maricopa County, adding same-day emergency response and post-monsoon inspection packages. Revenue jumped 31% the next year, but the real win was our crews weren't burning out on 4-hour drives. Our tile repair callbacks dropped to almost zero because we were working in conditions we'd mastered. Now every goal has to answer: "Does this make us better at the specific thing our customers already trust us for?" If it's just market-share math, I kill it.