The hidden power of being new

You are never more powerful in a role than in your first 90 days.

That’s a truth most people miss.

Because what do most of us feel when we walk into a new job? Hesitation. Fear of failure. Imposter syndrome.

Maybe you’ve been promoted into a title you’re not sure you can live up to. Maybe you’re filling the shoes of someone admired. Maybe you’re secretly wondering if you deserved the raise. Whatever the reason, those first weeks can feel like you’re teetering on shaky ground.

I’ve seen this pattern again and again: instead of stepping into the opportunity, people shrink back. They second-guess themselves. They show up smaller than the role requires.

And here’s the paradox—while you’re wrapped in insecurity, the people around you are not.

• What you feel: scanning for traps, wondering if you belong, waiting to be exposed.

• What they feel: relief that help has arrived, anticipation that things will get better, hope that the backlog will finally move.

That’s the hidden power of being new: for a brief window of time, everyone is rooting for you. And what you do with that power sets the trajectory of your entire tenure.

The Gap You’re Filling

Every team that gets a new hire has been carrying weight.

Maybe someone left and the work has been distributed across already-full plates.
Maybe the role is new, created because leadership finally saw the need.
Maybe the team has been limping along without the expertise you bring.

Whatever the reason, people have been stretched.

When you walk in, you’re not just filling a seat—you’re taking that weight off their shoulders. And even if they don’t say it out loud, there’s usually relief, trust, and gratitude that you’re there.

That’s your starting point. And it’s why your first 90–120 days matter so much.

My Big Misstep

I wish I had understood this earlier in my career.

One of the most painful lessons of my professional life came in the 1990s. I had just left advertising and landed an incredible opportunity: to build a digital studio for a major fashion company in New York.

At the time, catalogs were everything. If you weren’t walking into a store, your mailbox was stuffed with glossy pages from the season’s biggest brands. The company wanted to bring that production in-house, and I was hired to make it happen from the ground up.

It should have been a dream job.

Instead, it was a disaster.

I walked in consumed by fear. The dark winter commute into the city felt unbearable. The senior person in the office wasn’t supportive. My actual manager was in the Midwest, so I didn’t have day-to-day guidance. And instead of stepping into the trust they had already given me, I collapsed under the weight of my own doubts.

I cried at my desk. I smoked cigarettes out of open office windows (yes, you could still smoke indoors then). I stared at the gray Manhattan skyline and convinced myself I didn’t belong there. I confused discomfort with danger. I treated nerves as evidence, not noise.

After ten weeks, I quit.

That job has never appeared on a résumé. But the lesson has followed me everywhere: if you let your insecurities run the show, you waste the most powerful window you’ll ever have.

The Do-Over

A few years later, I found myself in a similar position: another IT role in New York, another big title I didn’t feel ready for. The same imposter syndrome rose up.

The difference was, this time, I ignored it.

I told myself: They believe in me. They wouldn’t have hired me otherwise.

It wasn’t perfect. I was still anxious. I lost weight I couldn’t afford to lose. But I did the job. And I grew into it.

The turning point came from an unlikely place: one of the crankiest customers in the office. He had a reputation for being impossible to work with. His office was right next to mine, and he saw exactly where my knowledge fell short.

Instead of exploiting that, he took me under his wing. He mentored me, taught me the technical skills I lacked, and gave me the confidence to stand tall in the role.

I rose not because I silenced every fear, but because I chose to trust the trust they already had in me.

That changed everything.

How to Step Into Your First 90 Days With Confidence

The hidden power of being new only works if you can see it — and believe it. That’s not easy when your brain is telling you you’re not ready. Here are some ways to counteract the fear and step into the trust you’ve already earned:

1. Ask the Right Questions in the Interview

Your confidence starts before day one. When you ask better questions during the interview, you walk in with clarity about what matters most. Try these:

• What does success in this role look like in the first six months?

• What would make you say, at the end of my first year, that this hire was a success?

• If I get this role, what are the three things I can do that would make you look great?

Their answers become your north star. Write them down. They aren’t abstract—they’re the hiring manager’s own definition of success.

2. Build a 30/60/90-Day Plan From Those Answers

You don’t need to be an executive to create a 30/60/90. Take what you heard in the interview and turn it into milestones:

• 30 days: Who do you need to meet? What systems do you need to learn?

• 60 days: What process or pilot could you test? What pain point could you start to relieve?

• 90 days: What results could you share back that tie directly to their definition of success?

For example, if your hiring manager said success looks like “better cross-department communication,” your plan might look like this:

• 30 days: Map stakeholders, audit intake processes, and baseline how requests flow.

• 60 days: Pilot a shared intake form and triage process.

• 90 days: Show metrics—reduced cycle time, fewer missed requests, higher satisfaction.

A plan doesn’t just keep you accountable. It shows your manager that you are intentional, disciplined, and outcome-focused.

3. Reframe the Fear

Nerves and excitement run on the same wiring in the brain. When you feel the anxiety creeping in, try shifting the label: This is energy. This is anticipation.

Pair it with a physical cue: shoulders back, one deep breath before speaking, or a grounding phrase: This means I’m ready.

Another way to quiet the fear: keep an evidence log of your first small wins. Did a teammate thank you for taking something off their plate? Write it down. Did you connect two departments that hadn’t been talking? Capture it. Did you ship something small but useful? Note it.

At the end of each week, spend five minutes reviewing that log. It becomes proof against the voice saying you’re not doing enough.

4. Use Your “I’m New” Shield

Being new gives you a license to ask questions others can’t. Use it as both shield and scalpel:

• Shield: “Because I’m new, I want to ask the obvious: why do we do it this way?”

• Scalpel: “If this were greenfield, what would we keep, what would we change?”

• Boundary: “I’m here to understand before I redesign—what are the top two constraints I need to know?”

This window closes fast. Use it while you can.

5. Remember: You Were Chosen

This one sounds simple, but it’s powerful. Repeat it to yourself as often as needed:
I am here because they already believe I can do this. My job isn’t to prove I belong—it’s to grow into the role they trusted me to take on.

If you need help remembering, post it where you’ll see it every morning.

The Leader’s Role

There’s another lesson here too, and it’s for those of us who hire.

We can’t assume new employees automatically see themselves as empowered. Many will walk in carrying the same fear I once carried.

It’s our responsibility to make the implicit explicit. Sometimes that means literally saying, in week one:
“You don’t have to earn trust here—you already have it. Spend your first month learning where to apply it.”

When leaders say this out loud, it changes everything. It gives people permission to silence their doubts and lean into the hope their colleagues already have for them.

The Lasting Lesson

I’ve never forgotten that ten-week failure. It taught me that the window of being new is both fragile and powerful. Fragile because our insecurities can sabotage it. Powerful because, if we use it wisely, it sets the tone for everything that follows.

So the next time you walk into a new role, remember: you don’t need to prove you belong. You already do. The people around you are counting on you, cheering for you, and ready to meet the version of you who steps in with confidence.

The hidden power of being new is real. Use it.