My 1:1 Got Moved Again-So I Made Promotion a Shared Project

The Calendar Glow That Felt Like a Verdict

Your 1:1 got moved again, and you’re staring at Google Calendar like it just quietly demoted you.

Jordan said that to me with the kind of half-laugh that isn’t really laughter. It was 8:41 a.m. on a Monday in their downtown Toronto condo kitchen—the kettle doing its thin, impatient hiss, Slack already open on the counter like a second cutting board. Their phone screen threw that harsh blue light up into their face as the message sat there: “Can we move our 1:1?”

I watched their thumb type “Sure!” faster than their breath could catch up. Then they just… stared at the blank space where the meeting used to be, like the calendar was a judge and they were waiting for a sentence.

“I don’t want to be pushy,” they said, voice careful. “I just want it to be clear.”

That’s the trap, isn’t it? You want to advocate clearly for a promotion, but you’re afraid being direct will make you look needy, difficult, or—worst of all—replaceable. So the meeting moves, your chest tightens, and the restless energy has to go somewhere. For Jordan, it went straight into over-prepping: status doc polish, extra slides, one more Jira ticket closed “just in case.”

The loop is brutal in how ordinary it looks from the outside: reschedule → overwork → no clarity → more reschedules. And the whole time, the question under the question keeps pulsing: If I were really ready, would I have to ask?

I leaned in—not as a mystic, but as someone who’s spent a lifetime watching people interpret sparse evidence like it’s destiny. “We’re not here to mind-read your manager,” I said. “We’re here to find clarity. Let’s make a map you can actually use—one that turns this fog into next steps.”

Choosing the Compass: A Celtic Cross for Promotion Clarity

I asked Jordan to take one slow breath—not as a ritual for the universe, but as a reset for the nervous system. Then I shuffled, the familiar papery drag of the deck grounding the conversation into something we could examine rather than endure.

“Today,” I said, “we’ll use the Celtic Cross · Context Edition.”

For readers who wonder how tarot works in a modern career situation: this spread is useful because it doesn’t stay in vibes. It builds a chain—from the present friction (the moved 1:1), down into the mechanism that keeps it repeating, and then back up into a practical shift you can execute. It’s a structured way to look at a career crossroads without spiraling into story-making.

I pointed to the layout as I placed the cards. “The center shows the current pattern. The cross reveals what you’re bumping into. The root goes underneath—what’s driving the loop. Then we climb the staff: your internal stance, the external system, your hopes and fears, and finally the alignment—the ‘if you keep doing this, here’s the direction’ card. Not prediction. Guidance. Accountability.”

Jordan nodded, jaw tight but attentive—the exact posture of someone who’s been doing Outlook calendar Tetris for so long they’ve forgotten it’s allowed to ask for a stable time slot.

Reading the Map: Where the Imbalance Actually Lives

Position 1 — The Current Imbalance Pattern

“Now revealed,” I said, “is the card representing the current imbalance pattern: what the repeated rescheduling is reflecting about recognition, access, and value exchange.”

Six of Pentacles, reversed.

In the Rider–Waite–Smith image, there are scales and coins—currency, distribution, power. Reversed, the scales don’t feel simply ‘tilted’; they feel like they’ve been quietly tilted for so long that you start calling it normal.

I met Jordan’s eyes. “This is like when you keep delivering high-quality work while the practical currency of career support—time on the calendar, written criteria, sponsorship, decision access—arrives inconsistently or not at all.”

I used the echo technique I trust most when someone’s been surviving by being ‘easy’: contrast without melodrama. “You’ve become low-maintenance. Competent. Self-sufficient. And because you’re so reliable, the system assumes you don’t need active support. But ‘low-maintenance’ isn’t the same thing as ‘properly supported.’”

Jordan did something I see often: a tight nod that is almost an admission. Then the unexpected reaction arrived—quick and bitter. “Okay,” they said, a tiny laugh at the end. “That’s… too accurate. And kind of rude.”

“Fair,” I said gently. “And useful. Because Six of Pentacles reversed doesn’t call you weak. It calls the exchange uneven. You’re not asking for a favor. You’re asking for a fair process.”

Position 2 — The Immediate Challenge

“Now we look at the immediate challenge: what must be faced directly to move from frustration into constructive advocacy.”

Seven of Wands, upright.

Higher ground. A steady stance. Multiple wands pushing up from below—like competing priorities, other people’s fires, and your own fear of being judged all arriving at once.

“This is the card that says: you don’t need to escalate into conflict,” I told Jordan. “But you do need to hold your ground. Your growth is worth defending.”

I offered a simple, repeatable line—because when the adrenaline hits, the brain loves to vanish. “Borrow this sentence if you need it: ‘I’d like to align on promotion criteria and a timeline—what are the next two checkpoints?’”

Jordan exhaled through their nose, like they were testing whether the words would taste like danger.

Position 3 — The Underlying Root

“Now revealed is the card representing the underlying root: the avoided decision or conversation that keeps the situation ambiguous.”

Two of Swords, reversed.

The blindfold in this card isn’t dramatic. It’s practical. It’s the part of you that keeps the peace by not naming the awkward thing.

I used the inner-monologue cut the blueprint called for, because it mirrors modern office avoidance almost too perfectly: “I’ll bring it up next time,” Jordan’s mind says. Then reality answers, “There is no next time unless I schedule it.”

“This,” I added, tapping the card lightly, “is like the blindfold being your unsent Notes app draft. It sits there, feeling safer than sending. Meanwhile your calendar keeps making the decision for you.”

Jordan’s gaze unfocused for a second—the micro-freeze of recognition. Their breath paused. Their fingers hovered near their mug, then tightened around it. Then the release: a quiet, involuntary “Oh.”

“I literally do that,” they said. “I tell myself I’m being professional. But I’m just… avoiding the conversation.”

“Avoidance is not a moral failure,” I said. “It’s a strategy. It just has a cost: you pay with momentum.”

Position 4 — What You’ve Relied On So Far

“Now we look at what you’ve relied on so far: the work habits and strategies that made sense but haven’t produced clarity.”

Eight of Pentacles, upright.

There’s a reason this card feels almost comforting. It’s craft. It’s diligence. It’s the part of you that believes, sincerely, that excellence will be recognized.

“Your work can be excellent and still be invisible without a narrative,” I said, letting the sentence land without blame. “This card validates that you’ve built real value. But it also shows the trap: you’ve been trying to earn clarity with output.”

I had a brief flash of my own past—standing at an excavation trench in bright, indifferent sunlight. You can uncover a beautiful object with your own hands, but if you don’t label it, document its context, and log where it was found, the museum won’t accept it. Truth exists. And still, the system needs it audit-ready.

“Your impact is real,” I told Jordan. “It’s just scattered across Slack threads, Jira tickets, and decks. True, but not yet legible.”

Position 5 — The Authority You’re Aiming For

“Now revealed is what you’re aiming for at the top of your mind: the kind of authority and structure you want to embody in a promotion path.”

The Emperor, upright.

“A lot of people misunderstand The Emperor,” I said. “They think it’s swagger. It’s not. It’s structure.”

In a fast-paced corporate environment—especially one that feels late-stage, where processes are mature and calendars are perpetually overbooked—advancement often follows rubrics and decision paths, not pure effort. The Emperor is the part of you that stops hoping and starts setting terms: criteria, scope, timeline.

“If you already had the title,” I asked Jordan, “what standards would you set for how your growth conversations are handled? How often they happen? What gets documented?”

Jordan swallowed. “I’d… I’d want it to not be optional. Like it would be a real workstream.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Treat advancement like a shared project, not a private wish.”

Position 6 — The Practical Near-Term Move

“Now revealed is the practical near-term move: the clearest communication action that shifts the dynamic this week.”

Page of Swords, upright.

The Page doesn’t wait until resentment builds. The Page asks early, cleanly, respectfully—clarity over comfort.

I slid the card toward Jordan. “This is the moment where the pivot is ordinary. Not heroic. You send one message.”

Then I did what I always do with Page of Swords: I gave them a script they could steal without shame.

“Totally understand—can we reschedule? I’m free Tue 2:00–2:30 or Wed 10:30–11:00. I’d love to use 15 min to align on promotion criteria + timeline.”

Jordan’s shoulders dropped by a millimeter—barely visible, but real. Their phone was warm in their hand. I could almost see the Slack cursor blinking in their mind, hovering over Enter like it was a cliff edge.

“A moved 1:1 isn’t a verdict,” I said. “But it is data. And this card teaches you what to do with data: respond with a question, not a story.”

Position 7 — Your Internal Stance

“Now we look at your internal stance: how your current energy and self-protection affect your ability to push effectively.”

Nine of Wands, reversed.

Reversed, this card feels like endurance turning brittle. You’re still standing, but you’re doing it with your teeth clenched. You look composed in the meeting—and later, the replay starts in the shower like it was a debate you lost.

“This is what carrying it alone costs,” I said. “Not just tired. Guarded. Close to losing patience.”

Jordan’s eyes flicked away. “I keep saying ‘all good’ even when it’s not.”

“That makes sense,” I replied. “But if you keep protecting yourself with silence, you end up with burnout pretending to be professionalism.”

Position 8 — The External System

“Now revealed is the external system: the norms, gatekeepers, and process reality you can learn and work with.”

The Hierophant, upright.

“This card is the institutional truth,” I said. “Promotions are often not a secret moral judgment. They’re a process with rules, language, and stakeholders—even if nobody proactively hands you the leveling guide.”

The Hierophant isn’t here to make you smaller. It’s here to remind you: system facts are leverage. Find the rubric. Identify decision-makers. Learn the shared vocabulary so you’re not negotiating with a mystery.

Jordan nodded slowly. “So it’s not just… doing more.”

“No,” I said. “It’s doing what you’ve already done—then translating it into the system’s measurement units.”

Position 9 — Hopes and Fears Around Visibility

“Now we look at your hopes and fears around visibility and recognition.”

Six of Wands, reversed.

“You want recognition,” I said plainly, “and you also fear what comes with being seen. You don’t want to look like you’re bragging. You don’t want people to decide you’re ‘too much.’”

Jordan gave me a look that said: Yes, and I hate that it’s true.

“Scrolling LinkedIn title-change posts and feeling that stomach-drop,” I continued, “isn’t vanity. It’s comparison fatigue. And in reversal, this card asks you to redefine success for the month: not applause, but measurable progress—criteria clarified, evidence gathered, a checkpoint scheduled.”

“Clarity is the new confidence,” I added. “Not the loud kind. The grounded kind.”

When Justice Held the Scales and Sword

Position 10 — Integration and Next-Step Alignment (Key Card)

When I turned the final card, the condo kitchen seemed to quiet around it—the kettle click-stopped, and for a second the only sound was the faint HVAC hum, like the room itself was waiting.

“Now revealed,” I said, “is integration and next-step alignment: how to turn the promotion push into a fair process with documentation and accountability.”

Justice, upright.

Here’s the setup, exactly as Jordan had been living it: you open your calendar and see the 1:1 moved again. You reread the Slack message twice, then funnel the discomfort into polishing a status doc at 9:40 p.m.—because working harder feels safer than asking for a process.

Not “maybe they’ll notice,” but “let the scales and the sword do the work”: name the criteria, bring evidence, and secure a clear next checkpoint.

The effect on Jordan came in a three-step chain I’ve learned to recognize across decades of people facing truth that is both relieving and demanding. First, a physiological freeze: their breath caught, and their fingers stopped mid-fidget as if their body had to hold still to hear it. Second, the cognitive shift: their gaze went slightly distant, like they were replaying every rescheduled 1:1 and every “no worries” they’d offered as a peace treaty. Third, the emotional release: their shoulders dropped, and they let out a thin, shaky exhale that sounded almost like a laugh, but softer—more like surrendering a weapon they’d been gripping too long.

“But if I do that,” they said, and there was a flash of resistance—quick, honest, human—“doesn’t that mean I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?”

I shook my head. “It means you’ve been using the tools that kept you safe. Now we’re upgrading them.”

This is where my work as an archaeologist always sneaks in. I call it Skill Archaeology: we don’t invent your worth; we unearth what’s already there, brush off the dust, and put it in its proper context. Justice is the same. It doesn’t ask you to perform confidence. It asks you to build an evidence-based structure that makes your readiness undeniable to the system that needs proof.

“Now,” I told Jordan, “use this new lens and look back at last week. Was there a moment—one Slack thread, one stakeholder win, one project decision—where if you’d named the criteria and logged the proof, you would’ve felt different?”

Jordan swallowed, eyes wet but steady. “Yeah,” they said quietly. “There was that rollout. I basically led the whole thing. I acted like it was normal.”

“That,” I said, “is the shift from tight uncertainty toward grounded clarity. Not hype. Not bravado. A fair process.”

From Vibes to Agreements: The Checkpoint-First Promotion Push

I gathered the storyline the spread had been building, because clarity isn’t just insight—it’s a coherent explanation you can stand on.

“Here’s what I see,” I said. “The Six of Pentacles reversed shows you’ve normalized an uneven exchange: you give more time, polish, emotional containment than you receive in sponsorship and structured career support. The Two of Swords reversed explains why it persists: you keep choosing harmony over clarity, so the real conversation never happens and the calendar stays in control. Eight of Pentacles proves you’re not missing effort—your craft is solid. The Emperor and Hierophant show what the system actually responds to: structure, standards, stakeholders. Page of Swords is the pivot—one clean message. And Justice is the integration: evidence plus decision, made real through documentation.”

“The cognitive blind spot,” I continued, “is believing that a direct ask makes you needy or difficult. In reality, what you’re asking for is professional hygiene: criteria, timeline, checkpoints. And the transformation direction is simple: shift from silently ‘deserving’ to making a clear, evidence-based ask with a defined next step.”

Jordan frowned, then gave me the practical pushback that matters. “Okay, but I don’t even know where to start. And honestly—some days I can’t find five minutes.”

“Then we use Megalith Transport,” I said—my favorite strategy for modern overwhelm. “Ancient builders didn’t move stones the size of buses by sheer willpower. They moved them by breaking the path into repeatable, manageable stages. You don’t need a grand speech. You need a small, structured sequence.”

• Within 24 hours of the reschedule: send a two-sentence message with two time options + the agenda line “15 min on promotion criteria + timeline.” Tip: expect your brain to say “cringe/needy.” That’s the old pattern trying to keep you comfortable. Use the minimum version anyway.
• Before the next 1:1 (15 minutes, once): create a one-page “Promotion Clarity Brief” with three bullets—outcomes delivered, scope expansion, next-level behaviors you’re already demonstrating. Tip: keep it to one page max; structure is your borrowed authority when you don’t feel “confident.”
• After the 1:1 (6 minutes): send a 6-line recap email/DM: goal, criteria, evidence to gather, decision-maker(s), date of next checkpoint, and what “done” looks like. Tip: start with “To make sure I captured it right…” If you’re activated, draft it and schedule-send it for the next morning.

“And because you’re scared of wasting energy on false hope,” I added, “we’ll use Relic Authentication: we assess opportunities carefully. After two cycles—message sent, 1:1 held, recap documented—look at the evidence. Did they engage with criteria? Did they agree to a checkpoint? If not, that’s also data, and we can decide your next move with self-respect instead of guesswork.”

Jordan sat back as if their spine finally got permission to stop holding the whole thing up. “If it matters,” they said, trying out the standard, “it gets a time slot and a paper trail.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “Don’t audition for a promotion in silence—schedule the checkpoint.”

A Week Later: The Quiet Proof

A week later, Jordan messaged me from the PATH, earbuds in, winter air turning their cheeks pink. “Sent the two-sentence reschedule,” they wrote. “Chest did the thing. Sent it anyway. We have a new time. Agenda is in the title.” Then: “I’m still scared. But it feels… real now.”

That’s what a Journey to Clarity actually looks like. Not instant certainty. A fairer structure. A small act of self-trust that creates calm momentum.

When your 1:1 keeps getting moved, it doesn’t just shift a meeting—it hits that tender place that whispers, ‘If I were truly ready, I wouldn’t have to ask,’ and you feel it as a tight chest and a late-night urge to over-prove.

If you treated your promotion like a shared project for the next two weeks—criteria, proof, and one scheduled checkpoint—what’s the smallest message you’d send to make clarity real today?