When Sharing Hurts: How Visibility Creates Bias About Your Capacity
- Marcus D. Taylor, MBA
- Jun 18
- 6 min read
There’s a mistake I’ve made—one that’s hard to admit because it came from a good place. I assumed that sharing who I am and what I do—both inside and outside of work—would build trust, not tension. That openness would be seen as strength, not suspicion. I was wrong.
The reality? My transparency has created discomfort for some and bias for others.
Let me explain.
The Bias Behind the Backlash
When people see that I’m active beyond my official role—whether it’s leading a nonprofit, directing a youth program, finishing a PhD, or launching a startup—they often conclude, “He’s doing too much.”
But they’re not making this judgment based on my performance. They’re doing it based on what they know—or think they know—about my time. This is availability bias in action: when people judge a situation not by its actual data, but by what’s most available or visible to them (Tversky & Kahneman, 1973).
They see:
The LinkedIn post about a leadership event.
The photos from a scholarship banquet.
A reference to a board meeting or public speaking gig.
And when something small goes wrong—or even slows down—it’s not chalked up to everyday reality. It’s blamed on me “juggling too much.” That’s capacity bias: the mistaken belief that people can’t handle a broad load of responsibility just because they couldn’t. It’s projection dressed up as judgment.
A Real Example: The Assumption Trap
Not long ago, I missed a deliverable deadline by a day. The delay wasn’t due to poor planning or distraction—it was a coordination issue among a team I was collaborating with. But instead of asking what happened or what support was needed, someone casually remarked, “Well, you’ve got so many things going on…”
It wasn’t said with judgment. In fact, it sounded like concern. But that’s precisely the trap.
Rather than addressing the specific context or the actual workflow, the default assumption became, “He must be overextended.” That assumption had nothing to do with the situation—and everything to do with what they knew about the other things I’m involved in outside of work.
This is how availability bias quietly creeps in. It makes the visible the relevant, even when it’s not.
And it gets reinforced by a more subtle form of the halo/horns effect—a bias where someone’s known traits or activities can color how every action is interpreted. If you’re high-achieving and productive, you may be praised—until something slows down. Then suddenly, that same productivity is seen as the problem.
People aren’t trying to be unfair. They’re drawing a line between cause and effect based on the information that stands out the most to them—even if that line is misplaced.
The Blog Break vs. the Smoke Break
I’ve developed a habit that some people notice: I write and publish blog articles—sometimes during the workday. For me, it’s not a distraction or a detour from responsibility. It’s a mental reset. A way to think clearly, reflect, and release tension.
But here’s the rub: when people see that I’ve posted a blog at 10:15 a.m., some jump to the conclusion that I’m not working. Or worse—that I’m doing too much.
Yet those same hours in a workday are filled with people taking smoke breaks, long walks around the building, chatting by the coffee station, or scrolling their phones to clear their minds. None of these are wrong—they’re part of the natural rhythm people use to stay human at work.
But because writing is visible—and because my writing often addresses leadership, identity, or professional growth—it becomes a lightning rod. People assign more weight to it than they do to the 15 minutes they spent venting by the water cooler. One feels like work. The other feels like slacking.
And that’s the paradox.
Mental breaks look different for everyone. For some, it’s stepping outside with a cup of coffee. For me, it’s shaping a thought into something shareable. The key difference is that my break has a byproduct others can see—and sometimes, misunderstand.
The truth? I’m not working more than anyone else—I’m just more transparent about how I work and how I reflect.
Army Training: Where Prioritization Was Forged
One of the most misunderstood parts of my ability to handle multiple roles is where that ability was shaped. It didn’t come from reading productivity books or watching time management videos. It came from the U.S. Army.
Military life isn’t just about discipline—it’s about structured chaos. You're trained to assess situations quickly, prioritize under pressure, and move resources—human, physical, mental—with intentionality. Time isn’t just something you manage; it’s something you command.
That mindset never left me.
From planning missions while coordinating logistics, to teaching soldiers while preparing my own transition out of theater, I had to learn how to segment attention without losing focus, and delegate without giving up accountability. These aren’t abstract skills—they’re real habits, reinforced by necessity and refined by years of consequence-based training.
A Story from Iraq: The Day I Missed a Meeting—On Purpose
While stationed in Iraq in 2009, I was responsible for overseeing life support operations on a Forward Operating Base. That meant everything from water supply and housing assignments to equipment receipt and contractor accountability.
One day, I was scheduled to meet with a civilian contractor team about facility upgrades—but right before the meeting, a shipment of contaminated water was reported at one of our housing zones. I had to make a difficult decision: attend a scheduled meeting or respond immediately to prevent a health hazard.
I chose the water while delegating my junior Soldier to take my place.
Some were upset that I didn’t make the meeting. From their view, I was “unreliable.” But what they didn’t see was that prioritization in real-time saved 200 soldiers from getting sick. That experience solidified a principle I live by today:
Missing one thing doesn’t mean you’re failing—sometimes it means you’re leading.
And yet, even with all that structure, experience, and training—balls still drop. I still hit traffic. Systems still fail. Emails still get missed. That doesn’t mean negligence. It means I’m human. It means circumstances still matter.
What my Army background gave me is not invincibility—it gave me awareness, triage thinking, and the ability to re-center under pressure. That doesn’t remove frustration, but it helps me manage it with purpose.
Why This Bias Hurts More Than Me
This isn't just about personal frustration. It's about how well-meaning people can unintentionally contribute to a culture that undervalues high-capacity performers.
The truth is—most of the time, these comments or assumptions aren't made to be harmful. In fact, they often come from a place of care. People say things like “you’ve got a lot going on” or “don’t burn yourself out” because they think they’re helping. And I appreciate that sentiment.
But even kindness can carry unintended consequences when it’s rooted in bias.
By assuming that a person is "doing too much" simply because they do a lot, we can:
Subtly discourage excellence by suggesting it’s unsustainable or excessive.
Create friction among peers, even when there’s no competition at play.
Miss valuable insight from individuals who thrive in structured multitasking roles.
This isn’t about blame. It’s about awareness.
Psychologist Daniel Kahneman reminds us that cognitive biases are not character flaws—they're mental shortcuts we all use. Recognizing them gives us power to interact more fairly, more openly, and more effectively.
Even research from Grant & Parker (2009) supports that employees with broader role orientations often elevate team performance and creativity—but only when their contributions are understood and supported, not quietly second-guessed.
Lessons I’ve Learned (That You Can Apply Too)
Structure Over SharingI now compartmentalize my messaging. I let my work speak before my titles. I only share what's relevant in the moment and save the rest for reflective spaces.
Performance Over PerceptionI focus conversations on outcomes, not activity. “Here’s what I delivered,” not “Here’s what I’m doing.”
Capacity Is ContextualJust because someone doesn’t understand your rhythm doesn’t mean you have to shrink to their tempo.
Let Bias Be Their BurdenI used to explain myself endlessly. Not anymore. When I sense the bias, I redirect with this:
“If you have concerns about delivery or priorities, let’s talk process—not perception.”
Peer-Reviewed Sources That Support This View
Tversky, A., & Kahneman, D. (1973). Availability: A heuristic for judging frequency and probability. Cognitive Psychology, 5(2), 207–232.
Nisbett, R. E., & Wilson, T. D. (1977). The halo effect: Evidence for unconscious alteration of judgments. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35(4), 250–256.
Grant, A. M., & Parker, S. K. (2009). Redesigning work design theories: The rise of relational and proactive perspectives. Academy of Management Annals, 3(1), 317–375.
Final Thought: Share Wisely, Perform Relentlessly
Transparency is a virtue—but only when matched with wisdom. In an ideal world, people would separate who you are from what you do. In reality, people often judge what you do based on how much of you they see.
If that visibility triggers bias, don’t shrink. Refocus. Let excellence reset the narrative.
If that visibility triggers bias, don’t shrink. Refocus. Let excellence reset the narrative.
Deep thoughts and you pointed out some good points I have not considered .
D Parker