The “I’ve gotta make today really count!” mantra is probably counter-productive over the long haul. There are going to be off days, and and there will be days where you don’t feel like fighting.
What’s important is that we stick with it, learn from our mistakes, and hone our craft.
A long-distance runner doesn’t focus on covering the first quarter-mile as quickly as possible, their focus is on expending their energy effectively over the course of the race. Mile after mile…
I’m always shocked and enraged when I put off a task (that I can’t escape) and it ends up taking me a trivial amount of time to complete.
I get angry because 1) suffering through the procrastination (it’s always in the back of my mind) is so much worse than the completion of the task) and 2) this never changes.
I wish I had a cute, optimistic closer for this post but the worst part of it is that I’ll never move on to bigger and better problems that need solving until I overcome the fundamental ones.
If you’re in line to buy something at the mall and you no longer want it, leave the line.
There’s a tiny voice in our head that says, “if you leave the line, everyone’s going to look at you like you’re crazy and tell their friends and point and laugh and nothing you ever do in life will ever amount to anything and you’re going to end up homeless in a van down by the river….”
(the italicized portion represents the crazy™)
The truth is that no one cares.
We feel like all eyes are on us, so we develop a hysteria about things going wrong and being ostracized and having our mistakes scrutinized on a public stage. In reality, that situation (enough people watching us to where there actually would be a sizable contingent of people who care) would mean that we have a thousand other things to be concerned about. (i.e., we’re Lady Gaga)
Most people don’t have a platform.
Most people don’t show up every day.
Most people don’t strive to do their best work.
Most people allow fear to dictate their actions and decisions.
Good thing you’re not most people.
You’re allowed to change your mind.
You’re allowed to be wrong.
I try really hard not to give waffly answers when I’m asked about something I don’t want to do, or when I feel like my answer will be “no” about something.
And I hate when this consideration isn’t extended in return. If I invite you somewhere and you’re busy, there’s no need to tell me that you’ll think about it. Just say no. Now.
I understand the desire to come across as giving something consideration, and it stems from a desire to be liked. To be accepted. That’s natural.
But you have to keep in mind that 1) no one worth keeping in your life is going to hate you for declining an invitation and 2) you will garner more respect from your peers (and make life easier for everyone involved) when you develop the ability to make sound and immediate decisions.
I went through this the other day at the office when my friend told me about a startup event here in Buenos Aires taking place next week. I checked out the website and said I’d let him know if I were going, but realized what I was doing and corrected my mistake.
In the ensuing discussion, we had a discussion about why I wasn’t going.
I explained that I’m at a point in my career where I don’t need inspiration and new ideas and the next thing to focus on, what I need is to make progress every day and become a pro at my craft.
I need to show up every day and relentlessly attack my goals instead of constantly seeking out the next trend in technology or social media [gag]. Those are just distractions.
And while the event looks to be full of respected startup founders and successful technologists, I had to think about what attendance would cost me. The price of admission wasn’t much (I think less than $100) but I run support for a piece of software that a lot of people use, so me being “off” for a day presents some significant challenges.
Chiefly: I wouldn’t be providing the best experience for our customers needing urgent help (a quick response and acknowledgement is one of the best customer service touches possible) if I was unavailable during business hours. Not worth it for this.
My friend understood of course (thanks Neel) and we chatted for a bit more about commitment to work and what’s important to us in life right now.
A much better outcome than if I had given him a weak last-minute apology and a lame excuse.
The most effective version of you doesn’t take 10,000 hours to discover, you’re already this person.
The times in my life when I’ve been most unhappy and unfulfilled are when I was trying to become the best version of what someone else needed me to be for a particular role. Or doing something out of obligation, rather than purpose and passion.
And conversely, the times in my life when I’ve felt most alive and gratified by my work were when I was doing things that came natural to me. Things that allowed me to be who I am, without apology.
I think the importance of professional authenticity is massively underrated.
And although this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t pour ourselves into the mastery of a craft or trade, I think it’s worth doing a gut check along the way to determine whose ideal you you’re becoming.
I’ve always drawn inspiration from hip hop.
“Looking from the surface it may seem like I’ve got reason to be nervous
Then observe my work to see that my adversity was worth it
Verses autobiographical. Absolutely classical [sic]
[The] last thing I’m worried about is what another rapper do [sic]…”
—T.I,. Swagger Like Us
Still with me? 🙂
It’s true that a lot of modern music is recycled, unoriginal, and generally worthless.
But it’s equally true that there are exceptions to this rule, and nuggets of quality to be found if you’re paying attention. I read the passage above like this:
Despite how my circumstances may appear to the uninitiated, the record will show (in the end) that everything I’ve gone through was for a reason (and worth the temporary discomfort).
The authenticity of what I ship is self-evident, is an accurate depiction of my life and story, and represents my very best work (which will stand the test of time).
In light of my intense focus, the last thing with which I’d concern myself with is comparisons to the competition.
Viewing it through that lens, it’s not hard to see this message resonating with anyone who’s trying to create art.
It’s easy to miss a message when it’s not presented in a way that you’re familiar with, but developing a sensitivity to lessons in unfamiliar places is a skill worth developing.
“And this our life exempt from public haunt finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it.”
— William Shakespeare (As You Like It, Act II scene I)
When I was younger, I didn’t understand why restaurants stacked the chairs on the tables at the end of the night to sweep and mop. I mean, I understood it but I didn’t think it was entirely necessary. The floors looked fine.
Then I started working at a restaurant, and my perspective changed.
It wasn’t until I started sweeping the floors that I realized how dirty they got every day. And it wasn’t until I hosed down a kitchen that I realized that an enormous amount of food and…stuff…gets everywhere during business hours.
Not until I rolled silverware and refilled salt and pepper shakers and consolidated condiment containers and folded napkins and replaced soda and refilled ice and left the restaurant after 1am on weekends (more than an hour and a half after the last meal was served) did I appreciate all the work that went into just being able to do business the next day.
I’m often guilty of publishing posts on here with typos and grammatical errors. There’s really no excuse for not proofreading my work carefully or having someone review my content before doing this, but thankfully I have people like David who lend a (regular) hand when I make mistakes.
The broader application of this should be clear.
The product might have shipped, but is it great?
It might be great, but is the world talking about it?
The world might be talking about it, but what’s next?
You might think you’re done, but you might not be finished.
I ordered coffee this weekend at a cafe where no less than 493 people were waiting for their drink. It was a mad house.
When a drink was ready, the barista would read the name written on the cup in some incomprehensible dialect (smile) and place it on the runway.
But instead of placing it name-facing-out so the gaggle of caffeine addicts could easily spot their drink, the name faced the barista.
This drove me nuts.
And in all of my don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover-osity, I immediately determined the following about the barista:
And with all these ridiculous assumptions running wild in my head, I thought about how my actions—the ones I don’t notice or intentionally project—speak for me without me realizing it.
I observe a lot of people who get inspired and start projects, and the initial steps I see seem to fall into two categories.
First, there are the people who avoid the work of starting by researching and talking about the idea and being in a constant state of preparation. These are the people who are still preparing to pre-alpha launch the focus group survey that will give them the data they need to spend the next six months inventing new hurdles…
The other group of people (and I’m not exempt) approach new ideas with their previous and current understanding of the big picture. So even when necessary research is done, the likeliness of failure can still be high since the moving parts aren’t critically considered.
The most successful artists I know (and by artist, I mean people who ship their work) develop the ability to think critically about ideas with more intensity and objectivity than most.
The people I look up to aren’t necessarily smarter than their peers, they just have better habits. The ability to reject lazy and unhelpful patterns of thought is one of them.
I’m always on the lookout for my next favorite business. It can be a cafe or a taco stand or an online retailer, what matters is the experience. And when I find it, I tell everyone I know.
My friend Justin does this with products and software, and I’ve spent more money than I care to think about investing in his suggestions. Why?
Because he’s a tastemaker. Because I trust his opinion. Because he does the hard work of being more obsessive and neurotic than I could ever hope to be about the smallest details.
Online
The Internet presents many opportunities for businesses to succeed and fail at delighting many customers, very quickly. If a form on your site is broken or there’s a typo in your sales copy and your site sees 300 visitors before you realize it (you’re not using chartbeat or clicky?), you might have lost that business forever.
Offline
If the maître d’ at a nice restaurant delights or disappoints customers during every shift, it’s likely to reach the ears of management in short order. I always try to respond candidly (not rudely) to management when they inquire about my experience at a restaurant, and I will go out of my way to brag on a wonderful employee.
The nothingness that is average
No one talks about average. Run of the mill (mildly annoying, slow, complicated, and confusing) online transactions are all lumped into the unremarkable pile alongside the others.
And a restaurant filled with employees who punch out the second their shift is up is unlikely to become a destination for men looking for a great place to pop the question.
What makes you special?
Does your site have the user experience of an Everlane?
Does your product become invisible but instantly invaluable like Dropbox?
Do people find you mesmerizing and discuss it in your absence years later?
Are you known for being consistent?
It’s gotta be something.