When I was five, my dad sat me down for a quite grown-up conversation. He told me I could choose any extracurricular activity I wanted, because it was just the age when the groups start. Tennis, dancing, athletics, gymnastics – he listed a few with enthusiasm. It felt like a moment of independence. I felt very empowered to make my own choice.

 I spent the whole evening thinking about it, replaying boxing matches we watched together with my dad. So the next day I told my dad:

“I want to do boxing.”

He paused, asked if I was sure, nodded quietly… and said nothing more.

Two weeks later, I was signed up for ballroom dancing… 

At the time, I didn’t have the language to articulate what felt off. And eventually, I even came to like ballroom dancing: I became the best in our class and won some local competitions. But what happened is that I had been given the illusion of choice, while the choice was about to be made for me. Years later, this memory became more than a funny anecdote – it became a lens through which I understood power, decision-making, and personal agency.

It was my first lesson about a truth many adults still struggle to accept: Not every option we’re presented is a real choice.

The corporate version of ballroom dancing

Fast forward three decades – I was deep in the world of executive leadership. Great roles, big titles, increasing responsibilities, and access to decision-makers. On paper, it looked like a career you don’t walk away from.

But at some point, I noticed a familiar feeling:

• I was participating in a “corporate dance” I didn’t choose.
• My contribution, my value, my potential – in some rooms they were seen and appreciated, while in others they were politely ignored or filtered through someone else’s agenda. 
• Decisions were made with me in the room, yet not by me. 
• Opportunities looked like choices, but they were always pre-packaged, pre-determined, and already “choreographed”.

That’s when I realized something powerful:

• Agency isn’t defined by what you’re offered – choices, opportunities, or roles.
• Agency is defined by what you decide to walk towards + what you decide to walk away from.

So I stepped away from a leadership path that promised status and recognition, and chose something riskier but more aligned with who I am: I created my own definition of work and designed my own version of impact.

Agency is not always about leaving

Here’s the nuance that often gets lost in motivational posts: agency doesn’t always mean quitting your job, burning bridges, or reinventing yourself overnight.

Sometimes your agency will look like:

• Choosing to stay at your imperfect job – because right now, stability matters more than professional fulfillment.
• Setting boundaries – because even in a suboptimal environment, your energy is yours to protect.
• Asking for clarity instead of silently hoping someone notices your value.
• Applying internally for a role that better fits your strengths.
• Deciding what matters most this year – growth, income, recognition, learning, or some rest and recharge. 

Agency is not a dramatic gesture. It’s a conscious choice. Even when the job market is brutal. Even when opportunities feel scarce. Even when leadership is imperfect. You always have agency in how much you give, what you tolerate, how you interpret your situation, and how you prepare for the next chapter.

The real lesson

As children, we often learn that adults have the final say. Many of us unconsciously carry that belief into our careers. We wait for leaders to recognize us, reward us, promote us, or design our future.

But adulthood comes with a different truth:

Either no one is coming to choose for you. Or if they do, it might not be the choice you wanted.

Whether you stay, renegotiate the terms, or leave your job, agency is the muscle that turns a passive career into an intentional one.

My childhood story ended with ballroom dancing.

My adult story began when I finally chose my own arena.

Your turn.
What part of your career are you “dancing” instead of “boxing”?