How many of our meetings, commitments, or tasks are required?
And how many are optional?
And if we realise there’s an imbalance between the two, what is the cost? What are we missing out on? What hours are we wasting on unnecessary things?
And most importantly, once we know, what are we going to do about it?
Jumping without a parachute is a bad idea.
Literally and metaphorically.
It’s a risk that has zero pay off.
Unless, perhaps, you have a big enough net to catch you.
Today I came across an outstanding video of Luke Aikens who attempted a 25,000 ft skydive without a parachute. He’s in free fall for about 2 minutes before a massive net breaks his fall. The video is well worth a watch—especially the final moments where he is lining up his path of descent with the net.
One of my favourite podcasts is Missed Apex. It’s a Formula 1 podcast made by a bunch of garden shed pundits. Literally. After each race, they sit in their respective garden sheds and record a podcast.
What I love about them is they’re knowledgeable, opinionated, and aren’t beholden to any company or stakeholder. This allows them to avoid the middle-of-the-road neutrality that plagues the larger podcasts. They have a small but respectable listenership in the tens of thousands, meaning it feels a bit more like a community. For example, they organise a simulated racing league which I race in, and they also doing in-real-life karting events!
I give this context because I want to talk about how they sign off each show. It’s a simple motto that I’ve come to love:
“Work hard. Be kind. Have fun.”
In six short words they sum up a lot of “good egg” behaviour. It’s a simple, pithy, and inspiring way to think about turning up each day.
I have always admired people who found their “one thing” early, who invest in their craft with dogged determination, and continue to turn up every day.
It reminds me of a Shakespearean troupe I was a part of back in school. 25 of us were selected from 5,000 student actors across New Zealand to perform at the Globe in London.
I ultimately decided to not go on the trip. To put it bluntly, I was a 17 year old kid who simply didn’t want to work at part time job for a year to earn the money to go.
But of the folks who went, 5 of them have become full-time actors or writers.
It’s been a pleasure to watch them grow. From participating in underground theatre, to promoting larger shows, to writing their first scripts, to travelling and putting on their own shows.
I used to get jealous that I didn’t have a “one thing”; that my interests waxed and waned between hobbies. Over time, though, I’ve learnt to embrace and find joy in the spread.
But when I go to a show or a concert, I now don’t just think about the performance itself, I think about how their years of sticking to that one thing has led to this moment. And I enjoy it all the more.
It’s often discussed that investors are more willing to invest in an entrepreneur who has failed before, rather than one who is starting a business for the first time.
This is because the entrepreneur who has failed has felt pain. They’re battled hardened. They know what mistakes to avoid. These things—in theory—make them more likely to succeed, and increase the probability investors make money on their investment.
I was surprised today though to read about WeWork Founder Adam Neumann’s recent fundraise from a16z, the most prestigious venture capital firm in the world.
Neumann failed. Big time. Under his leadership, WeWork raised $21 billion, and its current market capitalisation is $4 billion.
Yet a16z was willing to write their biggest cheque ever, at $350 million, to fund Neumann’s new residential real estate company focused on rentals. Neumann’s new company is now valued at over $1 billion, and it hasn’t even commenced operations yet.
I don’t get it. At all.
This is one of those posts where I publish, and will likely return to in a year or two.
Let’s see how things shake out.
I’m in the midst of a prolonged sprint towards an important deadline at work.
It’s been all consuming in a tools-feel-light kind of way.
I realised though that when I sit down to write my daily post, a lot of the same lessons are floating around in my head.
Many of them are just different flavours of: do the basics well, avoid unforced errors, begin drawing, everything is a trade-off, taking things bird-by-bird, and always be the note taker.
This period is an opportunity to steep myself in these lessons, and to methodically practise them so I can get better.
Have you experienced something similar?
We don’t have foxes in New Zealand. I read about them in stories, but I’d never seen one in real life until I moved to London.
Maru and I stayed in a few AirBnbs before we found our first London flat, and one of those looked out onto a garden with a shed. Each day a fox would curl up on the roof of the shed and nap quietly in the afternoon sun. I used to enjoy watching it out the window whilst I was preparing for job interviews. It felt like a furry companion that was helping me settle into a new city.
We now see foxes slinking around our neighbourhood, and are sometimes woken up by their screeches in the middle of the night. Each time I see them, I’m reminded simultaneously that I’m far from home, and that I’ve chosen to make a home in a new place.
Red Fox reminder.
With a bowling ball in hand, everyone goes for the strike.
It’s the best result, right? So why wouldn’t you go for it?
But there are many things that come before a strike.
Finding a ball that’s the right size and weight. Having the right shoes. Practising your run up to the lane. Looking where you want the ball to go. Avoiding the gutter.
Focusing only on the strike risks mistakes, and there are many points on the table for reliable players who get the basics right.
The logic applies for ten pin bowling, and many other sports, projects, and objectives.
We can wait for news, or hunt down the information we need.
We can wait for someone to suggest an improvement, or introduce the change now.
We can wait for the emergency, or run a drill so folks are prepared.
We can always wait.
But there’s always another, often better, option.
The London Underground is an impressive beast.
More than 1 billion journeys take place on it each year. The longest journey you can take without changing trains is 54 kilometres. Waterloo station alone has over 23 escalators and sees over 100 million passengers per year.
With that in mind, what do you think of when you see this sign?
Sometimes the product, the service, the challenge is so large, complex, and difficult, that just keeping the train on the tracks and moving forward is a feat to be celebrated.
Obvious to who?
The person with more experience?
The person who “just gets this stuff”.
The person who attended the training?
Much of the world and its complexities are non-obvious.
Dropping the use of the word “obvious” can help people feel safer and more included within a team.
Andrew shared a fascinating thread about how to have a friend group in your 30s and beyond, and I really liked it.
As people get older, life experiences diverge, kids take up a lot of time, and jobs take people to far off places.
It’s really hard to have and maintain a friend group with all this other stuff happening.
However, there are two things that make having a friend group easier: 1) a gathering place, and 2) a shared activity.
The best gathering place is someone’s home. Restaurants and cafes are too public, and it’s hard to do anything other than talk and eat in them.
A shared activity could be anything from eating good food, to playing sport, to watching a favourite TV series. As long as it is something the group enjoys doing.
Friend groups also shouldn’t be exclusive. Let’s leave that stuff back in high school. We should proactively invite new people. Don’t worry about them liking or not liking the shared activity; just invite them and then let them decide.
It’s inspired me to take stock and think about how I can be a bit more deliberate in this area of my life.
There are rarely easy answers.
Everything is a trade-off.
Most information is imperfect.
The “optimal” option may just be the “least bad” one.
People will get upset.
And yet, when we acknowledge the above, it’s easier to lift our chin, push our shoulders back, and approach the problem with a calm, clear-eyed perspective.
Can be caused by under thinking and over thinking.
By both impulsiveness and inertia.
By overconfidence and a lack thereof.
A bit of balance goes a long way.
If you plan like:
You’ll bake in buffer time for the journey.
It works for both road trips and other large undertakings.