Credit Where It's Due

Have you ever considered how rarely success is a solo act—yet how often it gets treated like one?

Most of us can point to periods in our lives where things went very well. Relationships bloomed. Promotions came. Results followed. Doors opened. And while we may not have even sought out the credit that came our way, we didn't always rush to correct the record either.

It's human. But it's also worth taking a second look.

The idea for this lesson came from an unlikely place. Ever watched the movie, Ratatouille? We were attempting to broaden my three-year-old grandson's horizons beyond the kids' YouTube videos he normally likes—if only for our own sanity.

In Ratatouille, aspiring chef, Linguini, finds himself in a position he knows he hasn't earned. He lacks the instincts and the training, as well as the creative abilities required to succeed. Yet, remarkably, he does succeed—because of Remy, a rat with extraordinary culinary talents who quite literally does spectacular work while remaining completely hidden.

Linguini isn't cruel or calculating. He's overwhelmed. He fears failure. And he's aware that telling the full truth could cost him everything. So, he accepts the applause, even though he knows it isn't really his.

That's what makes the story uncomfortable. It's not about maliciousness. It's really more about standing by ourselves in a spotlight that is meant to be, at a minimum, shared.

My experience has been that most of us don't set out to steal credit. We simply don't always redistribute it properly when we receive it.

And there's a difference. History is full of similar stories—where the name we remember isn't the only one that mattered.

Thomas Edison is remembered as the great inventor, yet his breakthroughs emerged from teams of engineers and experimenters working inside his laboratories. Steve Jobs became the face of Apple's innovation, while the engineering genius of Steve Wozniak and the design leadership of "Sir Jony" Ive remained far less visible to the public. And Tesla, of course, is Elon Musk. Few, though, are aware that the company was first founded by Martin Eberhard and Marc Tarpenning. (And have you ever noticed how we tend to try and reduce most collaborations down to a single person—even when numerous individuals contributed to the success?)

At some point in most meaningful journeys, we are literally standing, at least in part, on the contributions of others. That truth isn't limited to history books or movie screens. It shows up in everyday leadership.

Maybe it's the assistant who routinely anticipates problems before they reach your desk (thanks, Melissa!). Or the colleague who sharpens your thinking behind closed doors (thanks, Denny!). It could even be the mentor (much appreciated, David McClaskey) whose wisdom shared with you now feels so second nature to you, it's as if it's your own. Or it might be an entire team of colleagues that carry the load while one person gets the lion's share of the credit. That one brought this lesson uncomfortably close to home for me.

It could be any of those. A moment or a season, where we benefited from the talents, preparation, or sacrifice of others, and the recognition we received outweighed the credit we gave. Not out of malice. Not out of pride. But out of momentum, silence, or fear of diminishing our own standing.

Those moments matter—because they reveal something deeper. Giving credit where it's due isn't about diminishing ourselves. It's about telling the truth.

Good leaders don't hoard recognition. They distribute it. They understand that shared credit builds trust, deepens commitment, and sustains excellence far longer than individual applause ever could.

From an organizational performance angle, unrecognized contributors are more than a moral issue—they're a systemic risk. When knowledge and capability remain invisible, organizations become fragile. Dissatisfaction grows. Continuity suffers. And eventually, excellence erodes.

But when leaders intentionally name the contributions of others—specifically and publicly—something powerful happens. People feel seen. Ownership increases. And success becomes repeatable rather than accidental.

So here's a simple challenge worth considering. When's the last time you took a reflective inventory of your successes and asked yourself who opened doors you now walk through freely? Whose work made our work possible? Whose name should be spoken when our story is told?

Maybe it's time we took a second look at giving credit where it's due. Thanks, Remy.