The Curse of Competence

I was recently asked to take on yet another project. As I mentally reviewed the growing list of additional duties, taskers, meetings, and “quick favors” already filling my calendar, I kept my inner monologue to myself. Surely there were others with more capacity—fewer collateral duties, lighter workloads—who could carry this forward? Of course there were. But we all know the unwritten rule in the military: if a leader wants something done right and on time, they give it to the person who is already busy. High performers become magnets for responsibility. It can feel flattering to be trusted, to be handed autonomy without micromanagement. But at what point does trust quietly turn into imbalance? And why hasn’t anyone been deliberately developed to operate at your level?

In military organizations, reliability is currency. The service member who consistently executes (and executes well) becomes the default choice for sensitive taskers, high-visibility projects, and short-notice suspenses. Leaders operate under pressure—mission first, timelines tight, higher headquarters watching. When risk tolerance is low, they turn to proven performers. The issue isn’t usually favoritism; it’s risk mitigation. However, when the same individuals are repeatedly tapped without a deliberate plan to broaden the bench, the unit unintentionally builds a fragile system dependent on a few overextended people.

This dynamic often reveals a deeper leadership gap: underdeveloped talent. If only two or three people in a shop can brief the commander, manage logistics flawlessly, or navigate complex administrative systems, that is not a testament to their excellence alone—it is a vulnerability in the unit. The military emphasizes redundancy in equipment and contingency planning in operations, yet we sometimes fail to apply that same logic to people. Cross-training, mentorship, and progressive responsibility are not luxuries; they are readiness requirements.

For high performers, the burden can become both physical and psychological. Extra duties stack up quietly. Late nights become normal. Leave gets postponed “just until this project wraps up.” Over time, burnout creeps in—not because the service member lacks resilience, but because the system rewards competence with more work rather than sustainable workload distribution. The irony is stark: we risk exhausting the very people we depend on most. Retention conversations rarely connect the dots between chronic overutilization and declining morale, but they should.

Leaders who find themselves in positions of authority have a critical opportunity to break this cycle. Instead of defaulting to the same dependable names, they can intentionally assign stretch tasks to developing team members—with supervision and mentorship built in. They can publicly recognize those who consistently shoulder the load, not just with coins and certificates, but with meaningful relief and protected time. Most importantly, they can audit their workflows: Are we assigning based on trust alone, or are we building capability across the formation?

In the military, fairness is not about equal distribution of tasks—it’s about equitable development of people. The mission will always demand excellence. The challenge for leaders is ensuring that excellence is cultivated across the unit rather than concentrated in a few exhausted professionals. High performers will continue to raise their hands and deliver. The real test of leadership is whether we build others up to stand beside them.