No one believes in those daft, made-up job titles, so stop inflating your positions with silly names

BEFORE puberty kicked in, I called myself the Master of the Universe. It was all Dolph Lundgren’s fault. He killed Apollo Creed in "Rocky IV", but then redeemed himself by becoming He-Man in "Masters of the Universe" by borrowing Arnold Schwarzenegger’s body and Rod Stewart’s hairdo.

The storyline was essentially a shiny, oily man chasing a withered skeletal figure. The sequel is called the Upcoming American Presidential election.

But back in 1987, children could effectively give themselves the prestigious job title of “Master of the Universe”, because we had the movie. Today, grown men call themselves “Master of the Universe”, because we have LinkedIn.

It’s right there, beneath the headshot: “Neil Humphreys, Master of the Universe, open to work.”

Inflated job titles are nothing new, of course, but the deadly combo of Singapore’s kiasuism and LinkedIn’s tragicomic whiff of aggrandising desperation were always going to take the exaggerated career description to new heights.

According to recent reports, more Singaporean employers inflated job titles in 2023, leading to a 24 per cent increase in positions with “manager” and “director”, even for junior roles. Or, to put it in simpler, starker terms, around two in five employers got a little creative with job titles to attract and retain talent, which presumably fooled everyone.

By the age of 16, I was already the “assistant to the manager” of a popular East London eatery. I was a dishwasher at my grandfather’s café. The salary was the same, but when teenage girls heard about my prestigious job title, they practically threw their underwear at me. (They didn’t. I stank of fried eggs.)

But it’s a different world of fabricated nonsense in Singapore’s theatre of corporate dreams. I still remember the day I signed my first employment contract as a journalist. An unfamiliar, but glorious, new word was there in black and white, beneath my signature.

Executive. I was a media executive. My parents were so proud, as was I, until an enlightened colleague explained the reasoning behind such a lofty status.

“Don’t be blur, ang moh,” he said. “Executive means no need to pay overtime.”

Not easily deterred, I informed my laughing colleague that I would take up the matter with the relevant union. I think he’s still laughing.

But James Bond had nothing on me. He was 007, licensed to kill. I was a media executive, licensed to be called back on a Sunday. Unpaid.

Sneaky strategy of inflating job titles doesn't often work

What’s in a name, eh? Well, it depends on who you ask, apparently. According to the recent Robert Walters Singapore survey, while 43 per cent of hiring managers had inflated – or considered inflating – job titles, only 21 per cent reported that the sneaky strategy worked, which is hardly surprising when the job and the title don’t match.

Years ago, I worked with a “sales director” of a book distribution company. The company employed two people.

In fairness, the sales director did literally direct sales, via the deliveries in his white van.

But on the flip side, the same Robert Walters Singapore survey discovered that 85 per cent of professionals considered the job title to be very important (and 35 per cent of young professionals expect a promotion and a new title within 12 months of joining.) Moreover, in a 2018 survey reported in The Guardian, 72 per cent of people under 34 stated a willingness to accept a new title without an improved salary.

Just imagine that HR meeting…

“Well, gullible employee, it’s been a tough financial year, wage freeze and all that. But to compensate, we’re willing to promote you to ‘director of company snacks’.”

“Hmm, I was kinda hoping for ‘director of company snacks, beverages and that weird stuff in a jar that someone brought back from Japan.”

“That’s quite a leap up the corporate ladder, you know. Will you accept a two-year wage freeze?”

“Done! Print the namecards. I’m laminating those babies!”

Personal brand fixation stems from obsession to find validation

Anecdotally at least, there does seem to be a correlation between the age of the employee and the length of the job title. I tend to meet either 60-year-old CEOs or 20-year-old assistants to the head of brand development, activation and promotions, APAC, SEA, Bishan and Toa Payoh.

And that’s just the private sector. In the public sphere, it’s often quicker to read Dostoevsky than the full description of an employee at a statutory board, the one who is deputy manager (acting), marketing and communications (community development), pencil sharpening division (Nee Soon and Khatib Bongsu).

Maybe it’s a generational thing. Millennials, and particularly Gen Z, are acutely aware of their personal brands. Online media salivates over branding and LinkedIn remains an entertaining/depressing spectacle of chest-thumping pomposity, depending on your mood. If you’re not elevating your brand, you’re just not elevating your self-worth.

Younger, well-meaning colleagues are often pushing me to upgrade the personal brand on social media, reminding me that writing 30-odd books is less eye-catching than putting on blueberry milk nails on TikTok. And they’re probably right.

(I don’t know what blueberry milk nails are, but they trended on TikTok in 2023 and are obviously part of the Chinese Communist Party’s plan to achieve global mind control.)

But the personal brand fixation and the silly job titles feel like an existential quest to find a deeper meaning. The branding obsession runs in parallel with another to find validation, growth and a pathway to something bigger and greater: i.e. the sort of fluff written on the back of a Gwyneth Paltrow candle.

But genuine self-fulfilment isn’t really going to come from an inflated job title, is it? The quality and enjoyment of the work – along with a fair salary - must surely mean more than being called Manager of the Office Tea Bags.

Neil Humphreys is an award-winning football writer and a best-selling author, who has covered the English Premier League since 2000 and has written 28 books.

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