“I thought that being reliable would get me promoted. But I was wrong.”

I was on my fourth late night that week.

The presentation wasn’t mine, but somehow, I was the one pulling it together again.

A team member had fumbled the numbers, and another had missed the deadline. But then the calendar invite landed in my inbox. Followed by a familiar: “Can you just help tidy this up?”

It was early in my career, and I never complained about taking on this task. I told myself that it simply meant that I was dependable, efficient, and someone who could be trusted to fix things.

But as I hit “send” at 11:47pm, I noticed that I didn’t feel a sense of accomplishment or relief that I completed this task. The feeling was far heavier.

It was neither rage nor burnout. It felt like a weight in my chest. And I thought to myself: “ This isn’t fair. And you’ve helped build the system that’s taking you for granted.”

After working in that position for a while, I also began noticing that the more I absorbed, the less visible my contributions became. And the more invisible I felt, the more bitter I grew. 

In a separate experience, a former boss once described me as his “secret weapon” at work.

I took it as a compliment. And for the longest time, that idea kept me going especially on rough days at work. “I must be doing something right,” I told myself.

Until one day, he took everyone by surprise by introducing someone else as “the future of the business” –  in front of the senior executive team I’d been quietly keeping afloat for over a year.

I remember driving home in silence that night. My only companion was that familiar heavy feeling sitting uncomfortably in my chest.

The cost of being “the reliable one”

For a long time, I assumed professionalism would be rewarded – through promotion, pay progression, or sponsorship. I took pride in being the person who never dropped the ball, not because I enjoyed the workload, but because reliability felt like currency.

What it actually bought me was more work, generous praise, and little movement.

At first, I dismissed the discomfort as personal dissatisfaction – something to manage quietly. But the longer it persisted, the harder it was to ignore. When I stopped treating it as a flaw and started treating it as information, the pattern became clear.

Resentment, I realised, is often the by-product of “good” office behaviour. It accumulates when reliability is rewarded with more responsibility but less recognition; when agreeableness is mistaken for contentment; and when competence becomes a ceiling rather than a path forward.

I also had to confront a harder truth: I had been complicit in my own resentment – not out of weakness, but because I didn’t believe I had permission to ask for more.

What I’ve learned since

These days, when resentment surfaces, I take it seriously. Oftentimes, it indicates that recognition is lacking, boundaries are blurred, or the assumption that I’ll continue doing the invisible work.

And If you’re early in your career and feeling the weight of unspoken resentment, here’s what I wish someone had told me:

1. That sigh before you say “yes”? That’s not exhaustion.

That’s your body trying to save you from yourself. Your chest tightens for a reason. Listen to it before your brain overrides with “but they need me.”

2. Ask yourself: what would make this feel fair?

Is it credit? Time back? A clearer scope? A seat at the table where decisions are made? 

Resentment often follows when we agree to work without clarifying what we are exchanging for it. Articulating the price of a yes creates leverage, and makes it easier to decide whether the trade is worth making.

3. Stop treating being a “fixer” as a badge of honour.

You don’t usually get promoted for quietly fixing problems. You get promoted for work that is visible, attributable, and tied to outcomes people recognise as leadership.

If you are consistently operating behind the scenes, people may value your reliability – but they are less likely to see you as someone who should be making decisions.

4. Make the terms of your agreement explicit

Resentment often builds when the terms of agreement are left unsaid – who owns the work, who gets credit, and what gives way to make room.

Being explicit upfront creates clarity and protects against quiet overextension.

That can sound like:

- “I can take this on. But let’s align on who’s presenting it.”

- “Happy to help. What are we deprioritising to make room for this?”

5. Don’t let it turn into cynicism.

Resentment tends to turn cynical when you keep silent for too long.

Addressing it early – whether by clarifying expectations, resetting scope, or having a direct conversation – keeps frustration from becoming your default posture at work.

Uma Thana Balasingam is the architect of RAW Leadership. She also is the founder and CEO of the Elevate and the Lean In Network in Singapore, and was formerly Vice President, Partner & Commercial Sales, Asia Pacific & Japan, VMware. For Her World, she writes about embracing emotions in the workplace.