You're reading for free via The Medium Newsletter's Friend Link. Become a member to access the best of Medium.

Member-only story

Unspoken Benefits: Three Life Lessons from Nine Years at Google

How applying lessons from work into my personal life proved to be the most valuable Google perk of all.

Carter Gibson
12 min readFeb 5, 2025
Image of a workplace in the bottom left corner merging into a home in the top right. In the middle there are are arrows and bar charts with and idea lightbulb communicating lessons from work making it back to home.

Throughout my nearly nine years working out of Google offices, I’ve noticed that the line separating Googler from self can be pretty thin sometimes. There’s good reason for this. Google has a famously high hiring bar, the people who work there are deeply passionate about their work, and Googlers really do want to make the world a better place.

A job at Google doesn’t always feel like just a job — it feels like an identity. Personally, I can’t help but take workplace lessons home with me. The longer I’ve worked here, the more I’ve noticed that lessons from work keep cropping up in my personal life, helping me to solve problems faster, be a better friend, and confront opportunities with a better mindset.

When I think about the benefits Google offers, sure, the food and product discounts are great, but the work lessons I’ve been able to apply to my personal life are truly the greatest benefit of all. And yet, that’s not a selling point in the proverbial pamphlet, so I decided to write about it.

I started at Google as a contractor on Google+. Remember that? From there I got a full time gig on the same team, tested my technical knowledge on Family Link, started the Internal Community Management Team to launch internal content moderation, and now lead a portfolio of tools that help Googlers connect with each other and leadership called ‘Culture Technology’. I’ve been all over the place, and it’s been eye-opening.

Your value as a person doesn’t depend on your career success, but I also believe that completely separating work and personal life isn’t fulfilling. At the same time, I recognize my privilege doing work I love at a company that let me forge my own path which makes less separation more fun. For me, I’ve been lucky that my professional growth has also been deeply personal. I’ve learned so much about myself because I apply the lessons I learn at work to my life outside of it.

The three lessons I want to share with you are:

  1. Do the next right thing
  2. Find confidence in not being a know-it-all
  3. Embrace direct conflict

Let’s get into it.

[1] Do the next right thing.

Back of a man’s head starting into an abstract swirl of purple wisps meant to represent ambiguous, ever changing scenarios

Work is ambiguous. You are never going to have the full picture. At some points you might have a lot of that picture, but you’re never going to have enough of it to know, with absolute 100% certainty, that the decision you’re making is the right one. Anything could still happen! A haunting thought, truly. You’re getting paid to make decisions and not mess it up, but you can’t know everything before finding yourself in a situation where you have to make a call.

This is extremely frustrating and deeply unfair. It is perhaps the most frustrating, unfair part of having a job. Our intention is to do everything perfectly. We want to do good, aided by an effortless intuition that results in perfect decisions without stress.

Take a quick pause to just think about how awesome that would be. Breathe in… breathe out… Okay, now back to reality.

In life we have an idea about what we should do, but that’s usually about it. We can’t pause time, collect every possible piece of helpful data, or see into the future. We can’t live through every possible scenario to identify the optimal outcome. (Note: this would be awesome and there are a lot of superheroes based on this concept—for good reason!) We have to make decisions with limited insight. Sorry folks, it’s how it goes.

Google teaches that success relies on the ability to “thrive in ambiguity.” There are slide decks and talks and docs talking about what this means to Googlers all across the globe, but to me it really means one simple truth:

Do the next right thing.

I do the next right thing, with the information I have, at the time I have to make a decision.

Lacking superpowers like clairvoyance or super-intelligence, I, like everyone else, have to make decisions based on the information available. I have no choice but to trust that acting on the best information I can gather — and, please, do gather as much as possible — is the right way forward.

Even if I make a mistake, I’ll be able to defend my actions earnestly and confidently.

A lot of my closest friends self-identify as “people with anxiety.” I love them, and many of them have been my friends since at least college. Personally, I do not have a lot of anxiety — and I certainly don’t have generalized anxiety. And listen, that’s risky to say in 2025. To be authentic these days you almost have to admit you’re anxious. I’ve seen the Gen Z TikToks. But I’m being serious, you guys. Authentically, I’m just not very anxious, at all, most of the time. It annoys my friends too, trust me.

Over time, reflecting on the differences between my friends and me, I’ve identified that a lot of anxiety comes from the ominous concept of, “What if!?”

Yeah, absolutely! What if!? What if this or that or <insert horrible outcome>? Try as we might, we can’t control every variable and those outcomes may, ultimately, be out of our control — even if you do the next right thing. But what else are you supposed to do, if not that?

Truly, what else could reasonably be expected of anyone but the next right thing?

I find this concept very comforting. It gives me confidence to move forward and even make mistakes I feel good about so I can keep learning. Other people may find that concept terrifying or even reckless. But it helps me be more successful in almost every situation I encounter in life.

Here are some concrete examples:

  • It’s been a week since I heard from a recruiter about a job I applied to. The next, right thing? Just send a follow up email.
  • People are pushing for a product decision, but we haven’t talked to a stakeholder team yet. The next, right thing? Tell them to hold off and schedule a meeting with those stakeholders.
  • My friend is crying to me, upset about something I can’t fix. The next, right thing? Give them a hug.
  • I want to own a house, but I don’t know if I have enough money or where to begin! The next, right thing? Contact a real estate agent. Or call my parents. (Note: you’re never too old to call your parents, they’d probably love to hear from their 30-something asking for advice)

When I think about life as these short, immediate decisions I feel… at ease. A bunch of crises at Google taught me to consider the bigger picture, but confidently take action in the moment.

While focusing on the immediate next right thing is helpful, we also have to maintain a broader perspective. I’m not suggesting that people should react impulsively, driven by primal instincts — giving into their “lizard brain” screaming “Run! Bite!” We’ve evolved more sophisticated cognitive abilities for a reason, allowing us to consider that our first, instinctive reaction may not always be the most helpful.

Note: Imagine just one day at work where everyone solely relies on their prehistoric lizard brain. I’d pay to watch that…

Ultimately, focusing on the “next right thing” in ambiguous situations restores a sense of control and agency. It creates a positive ripple effect, easing anxieties for both colleagues and friends. It helps us work towards a resolution where everyone feels confident they acted to the best of their ability and prevents decision paralysis.

[2] Find confidence in not being a know-it-all

When you join Google, “they” tell you that you’re going to feel like an imposter, but that it will go away eventually. You’ll learn the ins and outs of the company, expand your skill set, and gain the context necessary to make confident decisions. In a lot of ways, this is true. Personally, my imposter syndrome has largely evaporated. But what “they” don’t tell you, either because it’s depressing or daunting, is that it never really goes away completely.

Every week, there is a problem that stumps me, an expert that humbles me, or a new field of technological innovation that sounds like gibberish.

I wish I was told it would never go away completely. That would have made me feel less like an imposter and been super comforting.

“Ah ha! So we’re all feeling this way all the time at least a little? I’m not lagging behind everyone because I still don’t know what I’m doing 100% of the time? Phew!” Alas, no one did tell me that, but Google taught me this lesson through experience.

Once you get past the initial learning curve, feeling like an imposter often means you’re pushing yourself and developing new skills.

You should strive to be a forever-student. And students don’t know everything — whether they’re just starting out or getting their doctorate.

Earlier I mentioned that I wasn’t an anxious person. Something else to know about me is that I’m fairly confident. Not cocky, but… comfortable. This is because, after working at Google for so long, I’ve really come to grips with that fact that a lot of these people are just gonna know more than me.

I also mentioned that a lot of my friends are anxious. Several of them are also quite intellectual. Like, write poetry and read big books and graduated from Ivy Leagues intellectual. Not me. My GPA was fine, and I’m fine with that. I’ll admit that many of my friends are objectively smarter than me about a wide variety of topics — but hey, they’re also anxious, so take that friends! (I’m kidding, sort of…)

I don’t view myself in intellectual competition with my friends or coworkers. But I used to.

Sometimes, when I felt put on my back foot, I would try assert myself by sharing information about my area of expertise. “Hey! I’m smart about something too!” Curiosity felt like weakness and I imagined fake scenarios that weren’t actually happening. Like, if someone shared something I didn’t know, they’d get a point — so, naturally, I had to share something they didn’t know to even the score.

Not healthy. Not collaborative.

Over time, I’ve discovered a genuine joy in embracing the unknown. It might seem counterintuitive, but acknowledging that I don’t know everything has actually boosted my confidence. After all, if perfect knowledge is an unattainable ideal, why feel threatened or insecure when someone else possesses a piece of information I lack?

This shift in perspective has been a true win-win. Instead of viewing conversations as a competition or feeling like I’m constantly being tested, I approach interactions with curiosity and a genuine desire to learn. I strive to absorb as much as I can without telling myself I’m a bad, no-good dummy. This open-mindedness, free from the pressure to “win” or appear all-knowing, has paradoxically allowed me to learn even more. It’s also fostered a greater sense of ease and comfort in my interactions speaking with experts because I’m no longer preoccupied with proving myself.

[3] Embrace direct conflict.

Back of a woman’s head confronting a man who looks stressed. The background is purple and chaotically abstract

This one is best told through an embarrassing story:

It was during the pandemic, maybe a few weeks in. I had been butting heads with someone else in my professional orbit for a while. The conflict came partially from me not wanting to report to them and partially because… well, honestly? We worked very differently and I wasn’t mature enough to see the value in combining our skillsets.

Our conflict wasn’t much of a secret to anyone, but for all the wrong reasons. I refused to engage in direct confrontation because I was afraid of it. I let my grievances steep inside me and they piled up. Eventually, I couldn’t hold them in anymore. When they boiled over, it was in the form of venting to other colleagues for advice instead of working with my coworker directly to smooth things over.

Candidly, it was easy to talk about this person behind their back. They were more senior than me. That felt like fair play. They were also adjacent to my immediate work, not right in the middle of it. Even fairer play.

During one of our regularly scheduled one on ones, before I could get out much more than a hello…

“Can you just… stop!? Can you please just leave me alone? I get it, Carter, you don’t like me. HEARD. You won’t report to me. Just stop.”

You know those moments in your life where you remember every single minor detail? Like time stops, your brain snaps a photo, and your inner monologue says, “Ohhhhh you’re gonna remember this. Loser.”

Note: My inner monologue is laughing at me while this happens like it’s a sports coach on the sidelines watching me fumble the ball and then slip face first into a pie on national television. Not sure about yours though…

This was one of those times.

To say I was embarrassed was an understatement. Part of me, wrongly, made myself believe this person was immune from feeling any way from what I said. Deep down, I knew that wasn’t true, but it felt productive to complain and, as a benefit, I got to avoid an uncomfortable argument. Obviously, that didn’t work out for me.

Me and this person are fine now. Not best friends, not enemies. I apologized. I stopped talking behind their back. We went our separate ways. We sometimes connect online in a friendly way.

But the most embarrassing part of this story? Multiple people could be reading it right now thinking this is about them. It was a long time ago, but I’m… this doesn’t make me proud.

God. Why not just go to the person I had a problem with early? When you don’t engage often and early, it not only makes feedback harder because you have much more to unload, but it makes you worse at giving it too. Feedback becomes a bigger deal and your stress is higher. Feedback should be steady, honest, unemotional, and frequent. This makes it not a big deal.

While I learned this lesson at work, I’ve applied it at home.

My husband is from outside of Chicago. I’m from outside of Virginia Beach. We naturally communicate differently. He’s very direct. He’d rather have a 10min argument about something stupid, move on, and have a good rest of his day. I’m genetically predetermined to have an uncanny amount of southern politeness. I would rather say nothing about something stupid and let it stew inside me for hours, with palpable tension radiating off me, than risk an argument.

My tactic, with near 100% accuracy, would result in an argument. And, on top of that, I was mad all day.

Note: My husband says that Chicago has nothing to do with how he is and that he would be this way if he were born in Guam. I did not debate this because I’m still a little afraid of direct conflict. We’re all a work in progress.

That one interaction I had with my coworker, during the pandemic on a sunny day at lunch time at my faux-marble table moved squarely into the center of my basement, with my two dogs curled up on the white and blue sofa (see, I told you I remembered everything), helped me see the value of quick, frequent, and direct feedback.

It doesn’t just make work easier, but marriages better too.

///

These lessons, learned within the vibrant, chaotic environment of Google, have become invaluable tools in my personal life. They’ve helped me navigate the uncertainties of life with more confidence, embrace the constant process of learning and growth, and foster healthier, more honest relationships. While the specific context was work, the principles — doing the next right thing, finding confidence in not being a know-it-all, and embracing direct conflict — transcend my professional sphere. They’ve become a framework for how I approach challenges, connect with others, and ultimately, live a more fulfilling life.

It’s easy to compartmentalize work and personal life, but I’ve found a lot of value from blurring the lines. The skills and mindsets we cultivate in our careers can profoundly impact who we are outside of the office if we let them. By embracing these lessons, I haven’t just become a better Googler, I’ve become a better friend, partner, and version of myself.

What a great benefit.

You can follow me on Threads or LinkedIn.

I make typos in my articles by accident even though I proofread. I will not apologize for this, but do appreciate you sending me corrections.

Carter Gibson
Carter Gibson

Written by Carter Gibson

Community Management strategist & Program Manager | Internal Community Programs Lead @ Google | Excitable Geek | Lover of spectacle | I write about my passions

Responses (27)

What are your thoughts?