We don’t always realize it, but what we do and how we do it are themselves pitches. We’re conveying a message about ourselves, our work, or our organization—and other people are interpreting it.

Take some time to find out what they think you’re saying. Recruit ten people—a combination of coworkers and friends and family. Then ask them which three words come to mind in response to one of these questions: What is my company about? What is my product or service about? What am I about? Make it clear that you’re not asking them for physical qualities (“tall, dark, and handsome”) but something deeper.

Once you gather these words, look for patterns. Many people are surprised by the disconnect between what they think they’re conveying and what others are actually hearing. Knowing is the prelude to improving.

First, not all of your employees are superheroes. Most companies have a continuum on the payroll, from the exceptionally talented to the should-definitely-be-doing-something-else- with-their-lives. This isn't easy to acknowledge. Any number of things can get in the way of doing so, from the role you played in hiring someone to good, old-fashioned conflict aversion. Here's a safe assumption: unless you have the resources and capacity to systematically attract, reward, and unleash the very best in your industry, some of the people now reporting to you cannot be objectively characterized as outstanding. Second, you're probably making your employees' job harder. The hunt for new sources of revenue within organizations often leads to an increase in operational complexity. New products and services — or even new variations on old ones — lead to new processes, policies, and regulations; new organizational structures and technologies; new customers with new needs being channeled toward new touch points. In one quick-service restaurant we studied, the menu had grown from twenty-five items to more than a hundred in just a few years.

First, not all of your employees are superheroes. Most companies have a continuum on the payroll, from the exceptionally talented to the should-definitely-be-doing-something-else- with-their-lives. This isn't easy to acknowledge. Any number of things can get in the way of doing so, from the role you played in hiring someone to good, old-fashioned conflict aversion. Here's a safe assumption: unless you have the resources and capacity to systematically attract, reward, and unleash the very best in your industry, some of the people now reporting to you cannot be objectively characterized as outstanding. Second, you're probably making your employees' job harder. The hunt for new sources of revenue within organizations often leads to an increase in operational complexity. New products and services — or even new variations on old ones — lead to new processes, policies, and regulations; new organizational structures and technologies; new customers with new needs being channeled toward new touch points. In one quick-service restaurant we studied, the menu had grown from twenty-five items to more than a hundred in just a few years.

In short, the average employee is drowning in complexity. And the outstanding employee, the one who has a chance of keeping up, is a much scarcer resource than many managers are willing to acknowledge. We're designing jobs for superhumans, and it turns out our people are flesh and blood.

A hidden identity isn't easy to pull off in most companies, but the next best thing is almost as effective: talk frankly with your people about their experience on the job, what makes it easy or hard, and how their roles have changed over time. Watch them in action. Try to do an average employee's job for a day, and see how you fare. Take a seat at your call center, and try to respond to eight screens of information at once.