By Tim Ferriss (excerpt from The 4-Hour Work Week)
I had to bribe them. What other choice did I have?
My lecture at Princeton had just ended with smiles and enthusiastic questions.
At the same time, I knew that most students would go out and promptly do the opposite of what I preached. Most of them would be putting in 80-hour weeks as high-paid coffee fetchers unless I showed that the principles from class could actually be applied.
Hence the challenge.
I was offering a round-trip ticket anywhere in the world to anyone who could complete an undefined "challenge" in the most impressive fashion possible. Results plus style. I told them to meet me after class if interested, and here they were, nearly 20 out of 60 students.
The task was designed to test their comfort zones while forcing them to use some of the tactics I teach. It was simplicity itself: contact three seemingly impossible-to-reach people — J Lo, Warren Buffett, Bill Clinton, J.D. Salinger, I don't care — and get at least one to reply to three questions...
Of 20 students, all frothing at the mouth to win a free spin across the globe, how many completed it?
Exactly... none. Not a one.
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Bigger Goals = Less Competition
There were many excuses: "It's not that easy to get someone to...", "I have a big paper due, and...," "I would love to, but there's no way I can..." There was but one real reason, however, repeated over and over again in different words: it was a difficult challenge, perhaps impossible, and the other students would out-do them. Since all of them overestimated the competition, no one even showed up.
According to the default-win rules I had set, if someone had sent me no more than an illegible one-paragraph response, I would have been obligated to give them the prize. This result both fascinated and depressed me.
The following year, the outcome was quite different.
I told this cautionary tale and six out of 17 finished the challenge in less than 48 hours. Was the second class better? No. In fact, there were more capable students in the first class, but they did nothing. Firepower up the wazoo and no trigger finger.
The second group just embraced what I told them before they started, which was...
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Doing the Unrealistic is Easier Than Doing the Realistic
From contacting billionaires [here’s how one reader did it] to rubbing elbows with celebrities—the second group of students did both—it's as easy as believing it can be done.
It's lonely at the top. 99% of the world is convinced they are incapable of achieving great things, so they aim for the mediocre middle-ground. The level of competition is thus fiercest for "realistic" goals, paradoxically making them the most time- and energy-consuming. It is easier to raise $10,000,000 than it is $1,000,000. It is easier to pick up the one perfect 10 in the bar than the five 8s.
If you are insecure, guess what? The rest of the world is too. Do not overestimate the competition and underestimate yourself. You are better than you think.
Unreasonable and unrealistic goals are easier to achieve for yet another reason.
Having an unusually large goal is an adrenaline infusion that provides the endurance to overcome the inevitable trials and tribulations that go along with any goal. Realistic goals, goals restricted to the average ambition level, are uninspiring and will only fuel you through the first or second problem, at which point you throw in the towel.
If the potential payoff is mediocre or average, so is your effort. I'll run through walls to get a catamaran trip through the Greek islands, but I might not change my brand of cereal for a weekend trip through Columbus, Ohio. If I choose the latter because it is "realistic," I won't have the enthusiasm to jump even the smallest hurdle to accomplish it. With beautiful, crystal-clear Greek waters and delicious wine on the brain, I'm prepared to do battle for a dream that is worth dreaming. Even though their difficulty of achievement on a scale of 1-10 appears to be a 2 and a 10 respectively, Columbus is more likely to fall through.
The fishing is best where the fewest go, and the collective insecurity of the world makes it easy for people to hit homeruns while everyone else is aiming for base hits. There is just less competition for bigger goals.
(Excerpted from The 4-Hour Work Week by Tim Ferriss)
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It's easy to discount all the things that are happening behind the scenes.
In our entertainment-based culture, we tend to only respect the final, glowing, sparkling, gleaming product, free from all blemishes and glitches. We airbrush our photos, we put 7 second time-delays on our "live" radio and television feeds, and we have dress rehearsals for our church services. We want our news packaged into headlines, simple soundbytes to consume or discard. We want our politicians in suits and ties, not gym clothes.
Anymore, there have almost become two strictly dichotomized worlds: one for presentation, and one for preparation. Everyday Life has become a TV show.
But behind the scenes... that's where the magic happens.
I just finished reading Malcom Gladwell's glorious book "The Tipping Point" in which he describes how relatively small things have a tremendous impact in "tipping" social epidemics, from fashion to education to crime. In the first section he describes The Law Of The Few, where a relatively small number of extraordinary people are crucial to kickstarting an epidemic. But I'm starting to wonder if it's those select few, those people that fit into some kind of "behind the scenes" Social or Informational Aristocracy, that actually do most of the world's work, period.
When I originally came up with the "behind the scenes" idea for this post, I wanted to write about what I find to be an utterly demoralizing disconnection between how "the masses" seem to perceive reality and what I'd consider to be "actual reality." I am often frustrated by how so many people can be so infinitely clueless as to what's going on in the world around them.
Ever met some of these folks?
But I don't feel like the gap can be attributed simply to an lack of intelligence; in fact, I think the problem is mostly 1) a shortage of ability to manage one's own life or 2) sheer laziness (or a combination of both).
I know that last little rant can make me sound a bit condescending, but actually, I bring this up because I know that people can change. If you want to learn to manage your life, do it. If you want to stop being lazy, do it. Also, I know discussions like this can make me sound like some kind of elitist, but I am not talking about human value, I am talking about human productivity, and that's an important distinction.
No matter the reason, the reality is that it's really just a numbers game. At the end of the day, most people are responders, not innovators. We can talk in terms of Rogers' Diffusion of Innovation bell curve, of innovators-to-laggards, if you like... same thing. Here's a nice epidemiology diagram, for your visual jollity:
You can see the "learning curve" that sweeps upward and which, by the end, represents the nearly complete diffusion of the phenomena in question. (Everyone feels more intelligent when discussing sociology with big words.)
What I know is that there are all of these "things" happening out there in the world: from food crises to economic crises to violent military crises, and most people are content -- happier, even -- knowing that they won't every have to touch these problems with a 30-foot-stick if they don't want to. But for me, these realities hit me like a branch in the face. For me, it means that someone else is controlling my life -- or at least "pulling the strings" and directing aspects of the world I interact in.
And I'm not a big fan of that.
If you've read Gladwell's book and buy what he says, you simply can't get around the concept that, in terms of "phenomena tipping" at least, some people are simply more important than others. What I wonder is if this mystery also extends into the world's productivity.
Are there a select few people pulling the majority of the weight? Does the 80/20 rule apply here? Are 20% of the world's population doing 80% of the work?
Is there any way to tell?
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