johnmaconline

I am easily fooled, especially by this question. 

I don’t think of it that way, of course. But that’s the bald-faced truth. 

The perpetrator of the lies is none other than Myself — my ego, my vanity, my desires. Many times the biggest lies are spun around spending my money. 

The saying goes, “You gotta spend money to make money.” That’s true sometimes. You can’t get paid to cut lawns without a lawn mower. 

“There is no more profitable investment than investing in yourself.” Also, right on point. You can’t be a cyclist without a bicycle, and you can’t be a doctor without a college degree. 

When presented with a financial choice, especially a large one, I often frame it as a question: Is it an investment?

I feel better if Myself can convince myself that, yes, this is an investment because an investment is worth the cost. 

But is it true?

Or, if it’s partially true, do I need this particular thing with the extra gobbledygook, and hence the extra cost? 

Myself is conniving and like The World, is very good at getting what it wants. But the better I get at recognizing Myself in the equation, the better I get at making decisions.

What’s the question that Yourself uses to fool you?

Don’t taxi to the runway until you’ve run the pre-flight checklist. You may crash.
Don’t scale the cliff without ensuring your partner has the belay. You may fall.
Don’t forget to double-check the trailer connections. You may cause an accident.

But also…

Don’t volunteer to give the presentation. You may embarrass yourself.
Don’t start a business. You may fail.
Don’t take responsibility. You may get blamed.

Better safe than sorry is sometimes good advice. But it’s not universally good advice.

It’s fat bear week. Who knew?

The bear is hungry. 

Searching for food, she comes upon Jack and Jerry cutting wood in the forest. Jack and Jerry spot the bear, glance at each other in terror, and …

Meritocracy

They take off running in the same direction.  

The bear immediately follows. At 25 yards, Jack has fallen behind. Jack is slower, or tripped on a root, or turned to look. 

At 50 yards, the bear overcomes Jack and satisfies her hunger.  

Luck

They take off running in different directions.  

The bear makes a split-second decision and follows Jerry. Maybe she thinks Jerry looks juicier. Maybe she locked her eyes on him because he had a red shirt. Maybe she’s right-handed.

At 50 yards, the bear overcomes Jerry and satisfies her hunger.  

Natural Selection

Jack pulls out his bear spray, and Jerry pulls out his gun.

As the bear charges, they stay together. When she is 25 feet away, Jack unleashes the fog of capsaicin, which stops her in her tracks, dazed and confused. 

Jerry raises his gun, takes aim, and finishes the job.

God 

Jack and Jerry freeze as she spots them.  

She prowls forward, teeth bared, maneuvering left and right to keep them in front. At 30 feet, she stops and rears back to begin the final rush. When she reaches full height, front legs in the air, a percussive blast from 100 yards away fills the air. 

The bear cries out and falls where she is.

I guess Elon’s gonna get it after all. 

What would you do with it if you got it?

If you’re a Twitter user, you probably have some ideas about what’s wrong or right with the platform.

“Twitter hasn’t gone far enough. It needs to crack down even more on misinformation, trolls, and idiots like Trump. Free speech doesn’t mean hate speech or misinformation.”

“Twitter has gone too far. It needs to stop blocking certain topics and people. Free speech is foundational, critical to a free society, and required to protect us from misinformation and Big Brother.”

Most of us are fantastic armchair quarterbacks, philosophers, and CEOs. We rant and rave and nod around the circle in agreement (with our tribe), but the nice comfy armchair offers the ultimate protection from risk.

We’re not on the hook. 

We can’t make a difference because we can’t fail. We can’t fail because we’re not in the ring with the bull. We’re still up in the stands or out in the parking lot. 

I don’t know what Elon will do with Twitter. I don’t really care, either. But regardless, I respect him and anybody that jumps down from the stands into the ring with the bull. 

You and I don’t have to be a billionaire, president, or world-renowned expert to make a difference in Our World. 

We just have to put ourselves on the hook, get out of our comfort zone, and be willing to expose ourselves to risk. 

“No one can serve two masters.”

Matthew 6:24a

Pre-internet, social media, and smartphones, The News (newspaper, TV, radio, etc.) successfully served two masters: 1) information dissemination to the public and 2) making money for the shareholders. But the ability to serve two masters is fraught.

It worked for a time because of the scarcity of news sources. Scarcity allowed them to curate information for a large audience. They were the gatekeepers, and there weren’t many of them. Like the information they were reporting, The News was itself an event. 

Our new connected paradigm, however, has thrown a turd into the punchbowl. They’ve lost their hold on scarcity. Consequently, no longer can The News successfully serve the two masters. They’ve had to choose one.

Really, they had no choice.

Now The News finds itself in full-scale nuclear war to win over eyes, ears, and hearts. A more angry or frightened audience equals more money. A rabid us versus them mentality equals more money. Sorting the community into the smart tribe and the dumb tribe equals more money. 

To answer the question, “Did you see the news?” you must decide if you’re willing to sacrifice your emotional well-being as collateral damage in a war you didn’t sign up for.

The typical everyday player in the MLB plays 150 games over a 26.5 week season and has 4.2 plate appearances per game. That’s a total of 630 plate appearances for the season.

The average batting average of hall of famers is .303, which equates to 7.2 hits per week based on 630 plate appearances per season(*).

If a player hits just one less weekly, that’s 6.2 per week, equating to an average of 0.258. Only three non-pitchers in the hall of fame have less than a 0.260 batting average, and they were exceptional in other ways.   

The difference between a hall of famer and an all-but-forgotten player is one hit per week (or less).

Let that sink in.

One hit per week.

How much effort over how much time would it take you to average one more hit per week?

Is it worth it? Only you can answer that.

* (Technical note: Plate appearances are not the same as at-bats. But using PAs in this calculation is worst case. If we use ABs, it gets even crazier)

A common saying in business, particularly retail, is, “The customer is always right.”

The original purpose was internal. It was an easy and powerful message to those working on your team.

“We are here to delight our customers. You will delight us by delighting our customers. Also a warning: we will choose them over you if you make us.”

Seems like a noble goal.

However, the cat got out of the bag. Now customers know and try to use it for their benefit. We’ve all seen a surly or childish knucklehead mistreating the front-line worker in the name of “the customer is always right.”

But that’s an easy one to refute. If the customer is being an asshole, most businesses would not automatically defer. Nor should they.

The customer may not be right in other more important situations as well. If you are building a product or running a business, ask yourself, “who is this for?”

For every customer that isn’t on that list, they won’t be right.

Will you serve vegan options in your southern BBQ restaurant?
Will your manufacturing company build custom items or off-the-shelf only?
Will your accounting firm serve individuals or other businesses?

You get to decide who your customer is. Delight them and respectfully forget the rest.

If you’re young, you’ve run up against it. If you’re “more experienced,” you’ve likely said it.

Is it useful?

In my current professional role, my team and I are agents of change. Specifically, our job is to help our company work better by implementing innovative and modern practices. However, our industry and company are a bit stodgy.

We have our work cut out for us. Change is not always welcome, especially when, “But this is the way we’ve always done it!”

The person or collective first needs to be heard. If you come at them like “my way or the highway,” you’ve lost before you start. Always start by listening.

“Not invented here” is a powerful emotion. Some people’s methods and tools are homegrown. They built them, and they like them specifically because they built them. The best strategy here is to lead with acknowledgment.

The disconnection between what people do and what they say can be stark and surprising. We must watch what they do, not so much what they say. In this situation, always use show and tell.

The old way may be better. Our job is to evaluate our proposed changes against the current methodologies. That evaluation must be fair and self-aware. Just because we have a new way doesn’t mean it’s a better way.

Fundamentally, “the way we’ve always done it” is about belief. When trying to implement change, whether in an organization, an individual, or yourself, start with understanding beliefs.

I’m a green personality, which means I believe I’m a tough sell, shop with my spreadsheet rather than my heart, and generally have little interest in salespeople and their pitches. 

However, I also (begrudgingly) know that this is bullshit. I’m every bit as susceptible to the right sales pitch as the next guy. Recently I proved it to myself yet again.

My car, which went into the shop for routine service and safety inspection, was now stuck there with thousands of dollars in repairs necessary to extract it. I had a choice to make — pay the exorbitant fee for my car, or take this nice, cushy alternative that was presented to me.

The soft pillow option was a new car.

I was just a pawn in their game. I knew it, and I was powerless against my own emotions. 

I wanted the new car. My old car had 120k+ miles, was six years old, and was now boring. I liked it, but I really liked the new one.

So I went into rationalization mode. 

“The new one has 27k miles. That’s better.”
“The new one is newer. That’s better.”
“The new one has a warranty. That’s better.”
“The new one is a car, not an SUV. That’s better.”
“The new one is blue, not black. That’s better.”
“The new one is fancy. That’s better.”

Rationalization complete. I bent my thinking to my emotions and drove home in a new car.

I’m sure I do it every time.