johnmaconline

Most people want perfect clarity.

They want to know what the future looks like. On Tuesday night at 8, my show is on. If I drive to Target, they’ll have what I need. If I do X, then Y will happen.

It happens in business also. The market will go here. Our customers will want this. If we make cuts there, we’ll be more profitable.

It’s just logic.

Those that make change happen, though, don’t rely on perfect logic — they rely on principles. A compass, not a map. They make an assertion and take one step, then another, adjusting as they go, building resilience and confidence.

They embrace the fuzzy logic.

We have mixed emotions about markets. If you’re of one line of thinking, you praise markets. Another, you blame markets.

A market is simply a place (physical or virtual) to exchange stuff — apples for dollars, corn for hay, code for dollars, dollars for dollars, ideas for ideas, ownership for dollars, ownership for work, debt for dollars, etc. If you want to get something, you show up at a market. If you want to provide something, you show up at a market.

In any case, markets aren’t perfect. Like all systems, they have their advantages and drawbacks, but it’s not the market itself that is the problem or the solution.

It’s the incentives in and around the market. People create the incentives.

Follow the people. Follow the incentives.

When you’re 17, you probably don’t know what you want to do with the rest of your life, but you have some ideas.

The way you figure it out is to pick something that sounds interesting and start. If you go to college, pick a major. The school provides you with a curriculum. Take this class, then this one. This helps you figure out if it’s the right place for you. If not, pick a new one and start that curriculum.

When you create a startup company, you probably don’t know exactly what the market wants, although you have some ideas.

The way you figure it out is to make some assertions and get started. We will build X, and Y will happen. Here’s how we’ll create the tension required. This helps you figure out if it’s the right path and you have the right idea. If not, pick some new assertions and get started again.

You know you want to get to the top of the mountain, but you can’t see how to get there from here. There’s the entrance to a path. Take it because it leads somewhere. If it doesn’t take you where you want to go, find a new path and take that one.

It’s OK to not know. In fact, if we’re doing something worth doing, we probably don’t know. It’s scary and uncomfortable.

What’s not OK is to do nothing waiting for a bolt of lightning or someone to tell you what to do.

The best of all time. The worst of all time. A billion. Zero.

We’ve come to expect hyperbole in marketing, politics, and The News. That’s a sales pitch. It’s both a simplification of the problem and the answer. We like simplificiation so it grabs us. It’s easily recognizable if you’re on your game, but you’re not always.

You also probably have at least one friend or an Uncle who uses hyperbole for everything. Every story is a fish story. Again, easily recognizable and not very impactful.

However, the more we normalize hyperbole in everyday speech across our entire communities, the more we desensitize ourselves to truth, complexity, and nuance. It erodes trust, both in others and ourselves. When everything is framed as “the best” or “the worst,” how do we discern what actually matters?

Hyperbole is a lazy shortcut. It skips the hard work and presents a brittle shortcut. And when it is inevitible exposed, it leaves behind a trail of skepticism and cynicism.

Truth, on the other hand, is resilient. It doesn’t need to scream to be heard. It invites curiosity, reflection, and debate. It’s complex and sometimes uncomfortable.

So, what’s the real problem with hyperbole?

Everything becomes black or white, love or hate, all or nothing. We stop listening and start worrying about which side of the fence we need to stand on. We stop questioning and start worrying about what others think of us.

And we stop growing.

I love mosaic art.

I can’t help but feel how clever the artist is to be able to turn the micro into a macro — both with meaning. Sometimes, the micro and macro reinforce the same idea. Sometimes, they juxtapose against each other.

A successful mosaic achieves a balance between the micro and macro through a thoughtful arrangement, but not necessarily a detailed plan or procedure. The artist follows the flow of the micro to achieve an intentional macro. Looking close, then stepping back. Working with whatever she has in front of her. Rearranging.

Each experience, relationship, and decision we make is a micro addition to the macro. Those micro arrangements unique to our macro picture. The micro imperfections both celebrated and hidden amongst the macro. Constantly evolving. New priorities. New experiences. New people. New micro bits to fill in the macro.

“Oh, where does this one fit?”

Your life is a mosaic. What do you want the macro to say?

I’m a Gen-X’er. We’re the last generation to:

Know life without the internet.
Know life without cell phones.
Know life without social media.
Know life without remote controls.
Know life without art/media on demand.
Know life without GPS.

We experienced life geographically. Physical location woven through the experience. Finding a location required a discussion or unfolding a paper map. No screen in between. No search bar.

Plans were commitments. Off-the-grid was most of the time. Media consumption was intentional, occasional, and experienced collectively. Stories and music had physical weight and size. You could hold it in your hand. Discovery required conversation or tuning into the collective.

These experiences shaped a generation of independent problem-solvers who are resilient and creative. Technology is a tool, not a crutch.

Every generation’s experiences contribute to their perspective.

What is it about your generation that shapes who you are and your perspective?

When you’re designing a website, you must care about and design for three different screen sizes: Computer, Tablet, and Phone.

The phone is a narrow view. Your person is walking (or driving 🙄). What’s your point? Less is more. Bold and restricted. Three seconds. Simple, simple, simple. Just what. Focused. What do you want them to do?

The tablet widens that view a bit. Your person is probably on their couch or at their kitchen table. Probably has the TV on or the kids are running around. Still simple. Still bold but less restricted. Focused, but more details. Journalism. What do you want them to know? Consumption. Information forward.

The computer is a wide view. Your person is sitting, likely in a work environment. They probably have their wits about them. What are all the things? Ten seconds. Simple, yes, but also nuanced. Who, what, why? What do you want them to know and then do?

Now turn this around on yourself.

Which screen size matters to you?

Do you have a thing?

When people think or talk about you, does something immediately come to mind? It could be profession. “Oh, they’re the chef,” or “They’re the engineer.” It could personality. “They’re the loud mouth,” or “They’re the mom.” It could be utility. “They’re the fix-it guy,” or “They’re the gardner.”

Your thing is the story that people tell about you.

The reality is we don’t have just one thing. We play many roles. We have many stories. We are many things, but in a particular context, we probably are reduced to one.

Are you happy with the thing that people think you are? Do you even know what it is?

It’s never too late to change, but it does take intention and effort. Start with the story.

If you only care about one thing, you don’t have a dilemma. All of your resources can go to that thing.

But if you care about more than one thing, you have a dilemma. It’s a budgeting dilemma. You only have so much time, energy, and money. How will you allocate them?

Budgets are one part spreadsheet and one part story.

If you’re having a budgeting dilemma, it may help to start with the story you tell yourself.