What do you do?

Occasionally I get asked, “What do you do for a living?” And what that really means is: what field are you in, what’s your job?

Not long ago, I would have answered, “I’m in IT.” It’s a huge field, but mostly that sentence was enough. If someone wanted to know more, I’d go a bit deeper, since the field can cover many different areas.

Nowadays, having switched career paths, my answer is different when being asked what I do: “I’m a coach.” And that doesn’t necessarily make it easier. People often say, “Hm... what kind of coach? A sports coach? What do you coach?”

There are all these nice words we like to use in coaching, but to someone who doesn’t know the field, they can sound strange or still not give any real clue. It’s a bit like: Okay, but I still don’t know what you actually do.

So instead of explaining coaching, I’d like to share an experience of my own — a recent session where I was the one being coached.

Because sometimes experiencing what coaching does shows more than trying to explain it.

A session of my own

In one of my recent coaching sessions, I brought something very practical.

As a coach, I want to listen deeply to my clients — to really hear what they are saying, notice the words or moments that may matter, and at the same time stay with the direction of the conversation.

But I had noticed something: I was using a lot of energy trying to do all of that.

I wanted to explore how I could listen more naturally, without working quite so hard at listening.

I briefly described this to my coach, and she gave me the space to explain.

And then the magic happened. There’s really no other word for it — though I’d encourage you to use whichever word feels right to you.

My coach listened carefully to what I said and how I said it, and then asked a simple question.

That question took me somewhere I hadn’t expected. I found myself remembering situations from my previous work where listening had felt completely natural. Situations where I could follow a complex conversation, notice details, speak openly and,3 when needed, stand my ground — without having to work so hard at doing any of it.

The conversation continued from there.

I began connecting different experiences and taking small pieces from each of them. Gradually, I could see what had been different in those situations and what I might take from them into my coaching.

Within thirty minutes — with questions, room to think, no rushing, just space for that one topic and nothing else — I had found my own options for approaching the issue.

They weren’t my coach’s solutions.

They were mine.

And that mattered.

When the session ended, it stayed with me. That’s why I’m writing about it now.

It wasn’t simply a nice conversation or a moment that came and went. I had made connections I hadn’t made before. I had found evidence in my own experiences. And from those experiences, I had developed something I could actually try.

My coach didn’t lead me towards an answer, mentor me or hand me tips. She listened, gave me room to think and asked questions that helped me make connections I hadn’t made on my own.

The solution that emerged was mine.

And perhaps that’s the simplest answer I have found when someone asks what I do.

I help people find their next step and work towards their own solution.