Some people can leave a half-finished job and think, “I might get back to that later”

Other people can feel the half-finished job from three rooms away.

That’s the Mastery Cup.

In the Phoenix Cups framework, Cups represent needs. We use “Cup” and “need” interchangeably. The Mastery Cup is the need for competence, progress, control, and achievement. It’s the part of you that wants to know, “I can do this,” and “I’m making things happen.”

When this Cup is full, you tend to feel capable and steady. You trust yourself. You make plans and follow through. You can handle problems without spiralling, because you have a sense of efficacy, like you can influence what happens next.

When it’s running low, life can start to feel messy, uncertain, or inefficient, even if nothing “big” is technically wrong. And that’s when dominant Mastery Cup people often reach for whatever puts them back in the driver’s seat.

Sandi talks in this episode about how strongly she identifies with Mastery. It’s a large Cup for her, the kind that can take over the whole dashboard. In Mastery mode, you can become incredibly productive, direct, and efficient.

You can also forget that other people have other needs.

If you’ve ever sent a message that was basically, “Need this done. Today. Thanks,” and only realised later that it sounded cold, you’ll understand what we mean. It’s not that you don’t care. It’s that the task is front and centre, and your brain is trying to restore control through progress. Connection cues, warmth, the little “how are you?” bits can fall out of the email.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Yep, that’s me,” you’re not a monster. You’re a human with a strong need for Mastery and competence.

Chris' Mastery Cup is much smaller. He still has the need, everyone does, it just fills more easily. A few small actions, a couple of tasks ticked off, and that Cup is topped up.

That difference creates a funny dynamic when you work or live with someone who has a big Mastery Cup. What feels “normal” to them can feel like a lot to you. And what feels “obvious” to you can feel baffling to them.

This is also why partnerships can work so well when people have different needs profiles. In the episode, Chris and Sandi talk about writing the Phoenix Cups book. The creative writing filled Freedom for Chris, but the final push, the logistics, the follow-through, the barcodes, the printing, the problem-solving, that leaned heavily on Sandi's Mastery Cup skillset.

The takeaway is simple: your Cup sizes are not a moral scorecard, they’re information. They explain why you do what you do, and why other people do it differently.

Sometimes the signal is frustration when something is outside your control. A website goes down, a plan changes, a tech issue appears, and your brain goes, “I can’t fix it, so I can’t function.”

Sometimes the signal is a sudden cleaning spree. You can’t control the bigger problem, so you control the bench top. The desk. The dishwasher. The inbox. The tidy house becomes a way to feel competent again.

Sometimes the signal is the urge to start another project, another course, another business idea. Or, the “I’ll just do this real quick” moment, that becomes a whole new thing. In the podcast, Chris and Sandi talk about how common this is for people with big Mastery Cups, including women on maternity leave who unexpectedly find themselves starting a diploma, building a side hustle, or colour-coordinating pegs on the washing line. It sounds quirky until you realise it’s an unmet need motivating some real action. 

If you think your Mastery Cup might be running low, try this:

Keep it small and specific:

Mastery loves completion, and completion creates relief.

This blog is the highlights version. In the full Mastery Cup episode, Chris and Sandi unpack how Mastery can drive your behaviour, how it can trip you up in communication, and how understanding this need makes relationships and teamwork easier.

If you saw yourself in any of this, listen to the full episode HERE then try the one question check-in for a week:

Author: Sandi Phoenix