5 Common Career Mistakes and How to Avoid Them

I need to tell you about the mistake I see most often.

Not the technical ones—those are easy to spot and fix. I'm talking about the quiet ones. The ones that happen slowly, over years, until one day you wake up and realize you've been standing still while everyone else kept moving.

The mistakes that cost you time you can't get back.

Let me introduce you to five people. Their names are different, but if you're honest, you might see yourself in their stories. I know I did.

Mistake #1: Staying Too Long Because It's Comfortable

Emma's Story: The Golden Handcuffs

Emma was a senior engineer at a comfortable mid-sized company. Good salary. Flexible hours. A team that liked her. Her manager said "great work" in every review. For five years, she showed up, did solid work, and went home at 5:30pm.

Sounds nice, right?

Except Emma told me she started feeling this low hum of dread every Sunday evening. Not because her job was bad. Because it had stopped being anything at all. It was just... there. Comfortable. Safe. Utterly forgettable.

"I kept telling myself I was lucky," she said. "I had friends who hated their jobs. Mine was fine. What was I complaining about?"

But here's what "fine" cost her: five years of learning nothing new. Five years of not growing. Five years where her resume looked exactly the same at the end as it did at the beginning. When she finally started interviewing, recruiters kept asking: "What have you been working on recently?" And she didn't have an answer that excited even her.

The mistake wasn't staying. It was staying past the point where she stopped growing—because leaving felt scary and staying felt easy.

When her mentor asked her that question, Emma went quiet. Then she started crying. Not sad tears—recognition tears. She'd known the answer for two years. She'd just been afraid to admit it.

She left six months later. Took a role that scared her a little—a smaller company, more responsibility, technologies she'd have to learn. Last I heard, she's a tech lead now. Different person. Same human who was always there, just... awake again.

Mistake #2: Being Too Humble to Advocate for Yourself

David's Story: The Invisible Engineer

David was brilliant. I mean, genuinely exceptional at what he did. He'd fixed critical bugs that saved his company hundreds of thousands of dollars. He'd mentored half the junior engineers. He'd redesigned a system that everyone said was unfixable.

And he was still at the same level after four years.

When I asked him why he hadn't been promoted, he looked surprised by the question. "I just do my work," he said. "I figured if I was good enough, they'd notice."

Here's the thing about being noticed: it doesn't happen by accident. Not because the world is unfair—though sometimes it is—but because everyone is busy. Your manager has twelve other people to think about. Your VP doesn't know you exist. The projects you've saved live in Jira tickets no one reads.

David thought advocating for himself was arrogant. So he stayed quiet. While other engineers—good engineers, but not better than him—made sure their wins were visible. They sent summary emails. They presented at all-hands. They said "I did this" instead of "we accomplished that."

His mentor told him something that changed everything: "You're not bragging. You're translating your work into language leadership understands. That's your job too."

David started doing weekly summaries. Nothing fancy—just "Here's what I shipped, here's the impact, here's what I'm working on next." Six months later, he was promoted. Not because his work got better. Because his work finally became visible.

Mistake #3: Chasing the Next Title Instead of the Right Growth

Lena's Story: The Hollow Promotion

Lena got promoted to senior engineer at 26. Staff engineer at 28. She was on track to be a principal engineer before 30.

And she was miserable.

"Everyone kept congratulating me," she told me. "And I kept smiling and saying thank you. But inside, I felt empty. Like I was climbing a ladder I didn't even want to be on."

The mistake wasn't ambition. The mistake was chasing titles because they looked good on LinkedIn, without ever asking: "What do I actually want to be doing with my days?"

At her staff engineer level, Lena spent most of her time in meetings, writing design docs, and reviewing other people's code. She barely wrote code anymore. The thing that made her fall in love with engineering—building things, solving puzzles, that flow state when you're deep in a problem—was gone.

Her mentor asked her a question that broke her: "If no one ever knew your title, what would you want to be doing?"

Lena went quiet. Then: "Building things. Teaching people how to build things. Being in the code, not just talking about it."

She ended up taking a lateral move to a different team where she could code more and mentor juniors. Technically a "step back." Actually a step toward herself.

Mistake #4: Burning Bridges or Forgetting to Build Them

Carlos's Story: The Exit That Echoed

Carlos was furious when he quit.

His manager had passed him over for promotion—again. He'd been promised resources that never came. He'd carried a project that should have been a team effort. So when he got an offer from another company, he quit with two weeks notice and spent those two weeks... making his feelings known.

He told his team exactly what he thought of management. He sent an exit email that was, in his words, "brutally honest." He ghosted the farewell happy hour. He wanted everyone to know: this place didn't deserve him.

The problem? Tech is small. Smaller than you think.

Two years later, Carlos interviewed at his dream company. The hiring manager asked for references. One of the names Carlos gave? Someone who'd been on his old team. Someone who remembered the exit. He didn't get the job.

His mentor told him: "You don't owe them your future, but don't give them your past as a weapon either."

Mistake #5: Waiting for the "Perfect Time" That Never Comes

Rachel's Story: The Perpetual Preparation

Rachel wanted to switch from backend to machine learning. She'd wanted it for three years.

Three years of "I'll do it when..."

• "When I finish this Coursera specialization."
• "When I have six months of savings."
• "When the project at work calms down."
• "When I feel more confident."

Every time I talked to her, there was a new reason to wait. Always reasonable. Always logical. Always... safe.

The problem? None of those conditions were ever fully met. The specialization led to another specialization. Six months of savings felt like it should be eight. Work never calmed down. Confidence never arrived on its own.

Her mentor finally asked her: "What if you're as ready right now as you'll ever feel before you start?"

That question sat with Rachel for a week. Then she applied to three ML roles—not because she felt ready, but because she realized she never would.

She got one of them. Was she prepared? No. Did she learn faster in six months than she had in three years of courses? Yes.

The Mistake Beneath All the Mistakes

Here's what these five stories have in common: Each person knew something was wrong. Emma felt the Sunday dread. David noticed others getting promoted. Lena felt the emptiness. Carlos carried the anger. Rachel kept finding reasons to wait.

They all knew.

The mistake wasn't not knowing. It was not having someone to help them see what they already knew—and give them permission to act on it.

What This Means for You, Right Now

Maybe you see yourself in one of these stories. Maybe all of them.

If Emma's comfort trap sounds familiar—if you've been in the same role for years and can't remember the last time you learned something that excited you—you're not stuck. You're just scared to be uncomfortable. A mentor can help you see what that comfort is actually costing you.

If David's invisibility resonates—if you're doing great work that no one seems to notice—you're not bad at your job. You're just bad at making your job visible. A mentor can help you translate your impact into language that gets heard.

If Lena's title chase feels too close—if you're climbing but not sure why—you're not ungrateful. You're just on the wrong ladder. A mentor can help you figure out which wall you actually want to climb.

If Carlos's burned bridges make you wince—if you've left situations poorly or neglected relationships you now need—you're not doomed. You're just learning late. A mentor can help you rebuild and show you how to exit next time with grace.

If Rachel's perpetual preparation describes your life—if you've been getting ready to start for months or years—you're not a procrastinator. You're just waiting for a confidence that only comes from starting. A mentor can help you take that first scary step.

The Mistake You're Making Right Now

Here's the mistake I haven't mentioned yet: reading this and nodding and doing nothing.

Recognizing these patterns is step one. But recognition without action is just well-informed stagnation.

You can spend another year in Emma's comfortable trap. Another year invisible like David. Another year chasing the wrong thing like Lena. Another year burning bridges like Carlos. Another year preparing like Rachel.

Or you can decide: I've seen this pattern in myself. I know where it leads. I'm going to do something different.

What gave them courage was having someone say: "I see you. I've been there. Here's the way forward. You're not alone in this."

That's what mentorship is. Not avoiding mistakes—because you won't. Making them faster, learning faster, course-correcting before three years become five become ten.