Some days I wake up feeling like the ocean. A consistent, reliable color. When you look to the bottom of the ocean it’s always calm. It’s always consistent.
The ocean is the part of me that you know. The me that’s here for the world to see. The “successful” guy, whatever that means. The confident writer. The good son. The best friend. The person the world wants me to show up as most of the time. Just up until the point they don’t—mostly when it’s convenient for them, not for me.
Other days, I wake up feeling like the sky. A constant evolution in color. There’s nothing really consistent about the sky. Yes, it’s different depending on location. A sunny LA might mean a gloomy San Francisco, but tomorrow, in that same location, the sky is likely to change. Actually, it’s likely to change at moment's notice. That doesn’t happen to the ocean. The sky is tumultuous, evolving, and something that you can never quite peg. As many would suggest, not even the weatherman.
The sky is the part of me that you don’t know. The me that only some of you have met…
This is a continuation of the story featured in The Accident, an article I published on August 1, 2019.
It got cut from the original article, mainly, in an effort to distill rather than amplify the piece. It was a painful casualty of the creative process, but since I heard from so many people about the accident I figure it would be cool to resuscitate it. Plus, I thought it might be good enough to warrant its own day in the sun. But you’ll be a better judge than me.
Oh, and I decided to leave it in the buff and totally untouched from when I first wrote it. Yes, there are typos, tense problems, grammar flubs, and battle wounds. C’mon, if I edited the outtake, how much fun would that be. Enjoy!…
Several years back, I was at a business conference in Chicago. Each night starting around 3ish, I would have some downtime. Two days into the trip, I’d already done all the Chicago things—boat tour, deep-dish pizza, visit Wrigley Field, etc.
Sitting in the hotel lobby, flipping through those what-to-do-in-Chicago pamphlets, I notice men and women walking by wearing provocative Halloween costumes. Or so it seems. I put my head back into the pamphlet while laughing to myself, “Geez, Chicago is pretty freaky.” Not even thirty seconds later, I pick my head up again and notice more costumed people—it’s literally just one after the other streaming by. Now I’m thinking, “What the heck is going on?”…
Creative work is hard. Really hard. It’s emotional. It’s revealing. It’s time-consuming. It’s draining. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a song, album, movie, article, painting, or book. Whatever it is, it took way longer to create than it did to consume. I have immense appreciation for anyone who has the guts to do creative work and deliver it to the world. Who am I to say it sucks? That’s why I don’t. Not publically, anyway. I certainly have my opinions and preferences—have a drink with me, and you’re sure to hear plenty about both. I just don’t find negative criticism to be particularly useful. You might love something I think sucks. I don’t want to ruin it for you. This is why I choose to not publically add to the already enormous amount of people ready and willing to tell you a book sucks. I trust your ability to form your own opinion on whatever you’re reading. So what do I do?…
The lights strobe around me. The music bounces off my ears, reverberates in my heart, and shakes my body. I watch bottle after bottle of champagne pour out of the back room. Each one accompanied by sparklers, signs, and whatever else is supposed to make me feel special in that moment. Confetti falls from the ceiling, and club-goers wonder what we could possibly be celebrating. It’s a scene of pure excess. Pure emotion, really.
I’m surrounded by friends, women I don’t know, and the unmistakable feelings of lust and excitement. It’s easy to get lost in the moment. Too easy. And on that thought, my hand raises to signal for another round or three. Or four. I can’t lie: it feels great every time. Or let me correct that. It feels great every time—in the moment.
But something happens after the moment…
From time to time, my friends in their twenties will reach out to me. They’ll ask me questions about life. Some of them are more direct than others, but it’s always about “finding” themselves. It’s like they’re searching for something.
I mean, Aren’t we all?
Most of the time I think to myself, How can anybody, honestly, help anybody to “find” who they are? Let alone me. It’s such a loaded question. I mean, everyone’s situation is different and unique, mine included. But I get it. Most everyone is confused in their twenties: “Is this the right career? Am I going to get married? Should I buy or rent? What makes him or her so special? How can I do this? Should I do that?” On and on it goes. I can’t pretend to know all the answers to these questions. I won’t even try, but here’s what I do know…
My knees aren’t wobbly yet, but this is about the time on any Saturday night when a glaze spreads over my eyes. Tonight, I’m more annoyed than entertained. I’m like a spinning top: where and when I’ll stop, I’m not really sure. I can’t spot one woman I’m interested in talking to. My ego keeps yelling at me, “No way, not good enough,” while my empathy reminds me, “You can’t do that. You know how that would end.” It’s sort of ridiculous when thought about out of context, but I trust my eyes, even if they are vodka-dipped.
An hour later, the top finally stumbles. “So sorry,” I say.
She looks up, smiling ear to ear. “It’s okay.”
I ask, “Have I seen you here before?”
“I don’t think so,” she says.
“Well, hi, my name is Doug.” And just like that I’m spinning again….
Here I am sandwiched between two blue marvels. Spinning like a mobile hanging from the sky, suspended above the ocean. As I float in the air, things seem to be moving much slower than one would expect.
It feels like a different kind of freedom than I experienced just moments ago. A waiting process that’s out of my control. Something I just have to believe in. Now I know why religion became so popular throughout time. In the grasp of no one and nothing, controlled by the uncontrollable, what else do you have to rely on? Right or wrong, being in this moment has made me realize that sometimes all you have is hope. Fate is your only destiny…
You want to discuss happiness, right?
There’s a place we must start. Something uncomfortable I must share with you.
You’re going to die one day.
This is not a new idea. It’s actually not an idea at all. It’s a basic truth. One you’ll see or have seen pop up a lot in my work.
You see, happiness is not about what you do for work, how much money you have in the bank, or finding a life long partner. Happiness is about living. Living is about choices. And there will always be more ways to live than the one way you’re currently living. Universally, there’s no better teacher of living than death. Death enables appreciation for life. It forces you to understand there will be a finality to your life. So my method for being happy requires you to face the fact that you’re going to die and realize you have some choices to make before that happens. Don’t feel overwhelmed, though. My method is quite simple, you’ll see…
It was day four of seven-day trip to Miami, and there I was: run down from travel, lack of sleep, and probably one too many vodka drinks. I was experiencing some kind of brain fog combined with lightheadedness, yet I found myself walking into a pool party at the Surfcomber Hotel in South Beach. There’s something about Miami that just seems to melt my brain, light my heart on fire, and leave me burning on pure emotion. Maybe it’s my most human form.
As I shuffled through the crowd, I had my own personal drummer inside my head banging away on the snares, hi-hats, and cymbals. He was using my cerebrum as the bass drum, and I was wondering how long I’d be able to take it. Then, of the corner of my left eye, I spotted the silhouette of an attractive woman. So I did what any single guy would do: I took a second look and side-stepped a few feet closer. It was on the third look that I realized I’d seen her before. As I squinted to make sure I was seeing clearly, she turned her head at the same time, and it was like a scene straight out of a movie. My ex-girlfriend, who I hadn’t seen in over five years, was looking me straight in the eye…
Have you seen A Star Is Born?
Did it make you cry?
I watched it for the first time on a recent cross-country flight. My buddy was sound asleep next to me, and there I was doing everything I could to prevent myself from breaking down during the final scene. I even removed my earbuds because I couldn’t bear to listen. It was as moving a story as any I’ve watched, read, or listened to in a long time.
When my friend finally woke up, I asked him, “Did you see that movie?”
“Yup, it’s a tough one.”
To say I was fascinated by this movie would be an understatement. I thought about it all night. I couldn’t let it go. And everyone I talked to had the same reaction. This movie has moved everyone…
When I first started writing online in early 2016, I was absolutely convinced I was here to help the world be ethical salespeople. I wanted people to help not sell, after all—that was what I knew. You can read more about that here.
But as I started to read, write, and create more, I found myself being pulled more and more toward my natural thoughts. Not things I considered work, but things I innately (and constantly) think about. It wasn’t long before I convinced myself I needed to share those ideas with the world. The ideas that inspire me. The ideas that I hope will inspire you, too.
You might not agree with everything I write, but I’m not trying to be right or wrong…
Have you ever watched Star Wars?
What about Rocky? How about any movie at all?
Okay, forget about movies. Have you ever read, heard, or watched any story about anything? This is a silly question. We all have watched movies and TV shows, and we’ve all read books. We love storytelling. We love entertainment.
All stories use the three-act structure: set-up, confrontation, and resolution. Many of these stories revolve around two characters: protagonist (good) vs. antagonist (bad.) Luke Skywalker pitted against Darth Vader. Rocky squares off against Apollo. Stories need conflict, otherwise they wouldn’t be very entertaining. The ones I’m referring to do that by creating good-vs-bad. Luke vs Darth is just a glaring example.
On the surface, this seems like a good thing. Not only do stories entertain us, but they also help us develop our moral compass…
I love dining out. I do it pretty often.
All cuisines, too. I give every restaurant a shot. Thai, Indian, French, Spanish, Mexican, Chinese, Greek, Japanese, the list goes on and on. Italian, certainly.
I go to fine dining, cafes, bistros, takeouts, delis, pizzerias, pubs, food trucks. I don’t discriminate. I enjoy trying new restaurants. I’m all about equal opportunity.
Warren Buffett once said, “Price is what you pay. Value is what you get.” A lesson that’s apparently rooted in one of the many lessons Benjamin Graham taught him at a young age. Obviously, this quote is about buying and selling stocks. It’s about investing. For the most part, it’s pretty good life advice, too. I rely on it all the time…
Let me first start by saying I experience this urge almost every day. And I’m willing to bet that you do, too. This is how I knew I needed to share it with you.
It’s an urge that’s so prevalent, pertinent, and unmistakable that, when you read it, you’ll have no choice but to accept its realness. It’s an urge that carves out what you know to be true, reconfigures it, and gives it back to you. Just for you to see it an ideal state, every time. It’s intimidating and desirable all at once. And it’s an urge that will shape your life.
Maybe you’re wondering what that urge is. That would be a good question. I’ll answer momentarily, but first, let me share something with you…
Have you ever heard of a lemming?
I hadn’t either until I played the video game GoldenEye for Nintendo 64 in 1997. They’re small rodents that typically live in very cold habitats. It’s said that every few years, enraged herds of lemmings band together, run off a cliff, and commit mass suicide. In the game, if you happened to kill yourself more times than anyone else, you received none other than the “lemming award.” For the next twenty years, I went on believing this story about lemmings.
Quite literally, it wasn’t until I went to research more about lemmings for this very article that I learned this whole story was nonsense…
It was summer 2015 when I first started to realize I could swim in the sea of debt I’d been piling up. It really didn’t matter how much I earned, I spent more. It was a pretty crappy feeling.
There’s was a world of pressure to ensure I’d keep spending too. Just tap the Instagram or Facebook icon on your cell phone. This pressure of leading a life focused on outcomes was really starting to weigh on me. I started wondering, What if something unpredictable happens? What if I don’t have a six-figure income anymore? Am I really that stable right now? What if I can’t keep this rollercoaster moving along? I saw myself as someone who was secure, strong, and stable. But, was I really? Honestly, at the time, hoping I’d land on my feet was my only hope…
I’m not perfect. I’m far from it.
I cry. I kick and scream. I stutter and slur. I think every idea I have is an amazing one. I get stressed out. I’m stubborn. I procrastinate. I’m overly concerned about my appearance. Of course, I don’t always like to admit any of this. Then again who does. These are all considered points of imperfection.
For 30 plus years I went on and on chasing perfection. Perfect job. Perfect relationship. Perfect life. Perfect body. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Have you ever felt similarly? We’re conditioned to believe in perfection from an early age. Nobody really wants to talk about it, though. It’s considered a point of imperfection.
Recently I was one of 10,000 attendees at…
Sometimes I think to myself, Finally I’ve got it all figured out.
I might be talking about a musician, a pair of shoes, or a TV show. Time and time again, I’ve caught myself saying, Absolute best, hands down.
Have you ever said that?
I remember convincing myself I could eat chicken and brown rice every day for the rest of my life. I realized it was nuts (although I still try). I also thought I could write a blog post (like this) daily. It took only a month to realize I couldn’t realistically fit that into my schedule. So I modified to once a month.
After 11 years in sales, I figured I knew everything I needed to about “selling”, so I started groundupSALES—only to realize about three months in I was just scratching the surface. Oops. I was a little off with that one. Every time I read a new book, my life seems to shift. I learn something I didn’t know before, and that experience adds to all the others. It proceeds to affect everything else I was thinking about. Slightly changing whatever I’m absolutely sure about at that moment. So, what gives?
What’s really going on here?
I hate failing. I've failed so many times at so many different things I don't even know where to begin. I failed at playing collegiate hockey. I failed at graduating from college in four years. I’ve failed relationships, friendships, and yes, customers.
One time, I had a customer jump over the counter and chase me out of his hardware store. Another time, I failed at building an “app” I thought was going to change the world. My judgement has failed me more times than I can possibly share with you here.
In one of my favorite books, Mindset, Carol Dweck, PhD, proves that the key to success is possessing a growth mindset. A mindset where you believe in change. More importantly, you believe you can change. Understanding that failures are merely growth points on the natural learning curve of life.
Here’s the thing: growth stems from discomfort. And discomfort stems from failure. People don’t grow to get more comfortable, they grow to get out of being uncomfortable. The former is just a lie we tell ourselves to continue to live in our comfort zone. So fail, and fail fast.
I love my dad.
He might be the kindest and most compassionate person I know. He’d give you the shirt off his back, even if that meant he’d be shirtless.
Other people love him, too. Of course, they love him for those reasons. But they also love that he screams at the TV when the Giants fumble, or when the ump blows a strike call. They think it’s hilarious when he calls someone a jerk because they have an ugly haircut. And that he insists on telling the same story about “nickel drafts” at Shady Brady’s bar, over and over and over again.
The very things that drive me up the wall. A wall of insanity. Again, Dad? Again, really?
I proceed to get pissed and banter with him, back n’ forth. And at the end of the day, I’m frustrated and exhausted. But I always come back for more bickering. Why do I do that? Why do WE do that?
If someone wrote you a check for $1 million today, what would you do with it?
New car? New home? Pay-off debt? Maybe a vacation?
Damn, this would be exciting. And it would definitely relieve some pressure. No denying that. Shiny objects are fun. And pressure sucks.
Me? Not sure. A few years ago, I'd have said, new Benz maybe. Definitely goodbye mortgage. Forget a vacation—a new vacation pad in Miami sounds more my appetite. I mean, it does sound amazing.
Okay, so after that, what would you do the next day?
I’ve heard some people say, “Easy, I’d quit my job” or “Tell my boss to go screw himself.” Surely these all might be good options. And fun ones, too.
But, for a moment, even if it’s just right now, think about this question a little deeper.
It’s 6 o’clock in the morning. Your alarm is screaming at you, and you think to yourself, WTF, already!?
SLAM. Your hand hits the nightstand as you reach to find the snooze button just so you can twist n’ turn for nine more minutes. It’s your average Monday morning.
Just the thought of Betty telling you what to do when you roll into work and the monotony of daily tasks that lay ahead make you want to curl up in a ball and cry.
Ring, snooze. Twist n’ turn. Ring, snooze. Finally, with one eye open, you grab your phone to turn that freaking alarm off.
Do I need to tell you what happens next? The force is strong with this one.
“Make your product easier to buy than your competition, or you will find your customers buying from them, not you.” - Mark Cuban
Every business owner and salesperson in the world needs to recognize the demand for max transparency has changed the game, forever. And quite honestly, there’s no looking back.
Your customers don’t have time to talk to you, don’t want to talk to you, and don’t need to talk to you.
Information isn’t the problem anymore. We live in the information age. Information has always been limited by your desire to learn. Now, it’s accessible to anyone, when they want it and how they want it. Information has been democratized, and options are limitless for today’s consumer, making transparency required.
The role of selling in the 21st century has been completely flipped on its head.
We all have bad habits.
It’s kind of confusing because in the moment, these habits always seem to mask themselves as great ideas. I certainly have a few.
Let’s take alcohol. I’ve always enjoyed drinking with friends. I try to be responsible. I don’t drink during the week. I don’t drink and drive. I even track how much I drink. I’ve talked about my tracking sheets in the past, so this might not surprise you.
I’d be the first to admit that alcohol has screwed up some moments in my life. It’s also been an aid to some amazing ones. The latter is typically the rationalization I use every time I go out for “drinks” with friends. It could be said that drinking alcohol, at all, is a bad habit. The research is pretty clear that it’s not healthy for you. But it’s fun, that’s why I do it.
The problem is, I get lost in the moment. One leads to two, and all of sudden I’m dancing in the moonlight…