by Tina Seelig
While Perry worked incredibly hard to overcome obstacles to create his own luck, there are many examples of individuals making luck by fearlessly asking for what they want. A compelling example is found in Dana Calderwood’s story. Dana loved the theater and spent countless hours involved in school plays, starting when he was in high school. We were classmates at Summit High School in New Jersey, where we were both serious “drama freaks.” Acting was a hobby for me, but Dana had dreams of being a director and started cooking up his own luck in order to optimize the chances of making that happen long before he left high school.
Dana was fearless. He had the gumption to ask the head of the drama department if he could direct the next major school play. No student had ever asked for that role before, but the teacher agreed. Dana didn’t wait to be anointed by someone in authority; he simply asked for what he wanted. That moment launched Dana’s directing career. He went on to direct plays at the local Metropolitan Musical Theater, where a visiting alumni director, who had since gone on to a successful career in Hollywood, gave him some sage advice. He told Dana that the skills he was using at the theater company were the same skills needed in the big leagues. This advice gave Dana the confidence to set his sights even higher.
Dana went on to study at New York University’s film school, and while there, he squeezed the juice out of every opportunity. Dana always stayed after classes to meet guest speakers, and he asked them for follow-up meetings and names of other people he should contact. He also learned to make the most of every film assignment. At first, like his classmates, he used his friends as actors in his films (this is how I got my film debut in Dana’s version of the famous shower scene in Psycho). However, Dana soon realized there was an opportunity to invite famous actors to star in his pieces. One TV production class assignment involved creating a short program for television. Most of Dana’s classmates conducted simple interviews with one another to satisfy the requirement, but Dana asked the Academy Award–winning actress Estelle Parsons, who was in the midst of performing in a Tony-nominated play, to participate—and she agreed. Again, he made himself lucky by paying attention to non-obvious but exciting alternatives. He put himself out there by asking for what he wanted.
As time went on, Dana took on bigger and bigger challenges, and eventually he was asked to be the director of Late Night with Conan O’Brien, which he did for years before moving on to direct many other shows, including Rachael Ray and Iron Chef America. Had Dana seen his adult self when he was twenty, he would have been in awe of his good luck. Dana’s fortune comes from putting everything he knows into everything he does. He is fearless about asking for opportunities to do things he has never done before, and with each successful leap, he gains additional insights and knowledge that help him take on the next bigger challenge.
Dana long ago internalized the idea that directing on a small stage is similar to directing on a big stage, and this gave him the confidence to jump to ever-larger stepping-stones as he literally made opportunities present themselves. Many people don’t feel comfortable making such leaps, preferring instead to stay in smaller venues. And one could argue that there are many advantages to working with intimate teams on small projects. Others dream of a bigger stage but are daunted by the perceived distance between where they are and where they want to go. Dana’s story shows that by seeing and seizing all the opportunities around us, we can slowly but surely pull ourselves from stage to stage, each time drawing ourselves closer to our final objective.
We can all manufacture our own luck by understanding that luck is like the wind—always blowing. It is up to you to catch the winds of luck by being open to opportunities that come your way, taking full advantage of chance occurrences, paying careful attention to the world around you, interacting with as many people as you can, and making those interactions as positive as possible. Making one’s own luck is ultimately about turning bad situations around and making good situations much better. We dramatically increase the chances that we will be lucky by exposing ourselves to as many diverse experiences as possible, boldly recombining these experiences in unusual ways, and fearlessly striving to get to the stage on which we want to play out our lives.
Chapter 9
Are You Smart or Right?
Who would have thought that the package of note cards my mother gave me for my tenth birthday would have been one of the most valuable gifts I have ever received. They were light blue and said TINA in block letters on the top. My mother taught me at that age how to write a thank-you note and how important they are. She couldn’t have been more correct. In fact, as I grew up and ultimately entered the work world, I often tried to channel my mother, who always seemed to know what to do in social settings. But the importance of writing thank-you notes remains one of her most valuable lessons.
Since then I’ve learned that there is a big difference between gratitude and appreciation: gratitude is the quality of being thankful, and appreciation is the act of showing gratitude. Research has proven that gratitude leads to improved mental and physical health, better sleep, and increased productivity. But gratitude is not enough—you need to acknowledge those who have done something for you in order to get the full benefit.
Keep in mind that everything someone does for you has an opportunity cost. That means if someone takes time out of his or her day to attend to you, there’s something they haven’t done for themselves or for someone else. It’s easy to fool yourself into thinking your request is small. But when someone is busy there are no small requests. They have to stop what they’re doing, focus on your request, and take the time to respond. With that in mind, there is never a time when you shouldn’t thank someone for doing something for you. In fact, assume a thank-you note is in order, and look at situations when you don’t send one as the exception. Because so few people actually do this (unfortunately), you will certainly stand out from the crowd.
I’ve been experimenting with different ways of expressing appreciation and developed a new habit as a result. At the end of every day, I review my calendar and send a short thank-you email to everyone who has done something helpful, such as meeting with me to discuss a project or taking me to lunch. It takes only a few minutes, but it forces me to consider all the things that others have done for me. This single act increases my gratitude and appreciation, and certainly makes a big difference in my relationships with others.
There are many other little things that make a big difference. Some are intuitive, and others are surprising. Some are taught in schools, but most are not. Over the years, I’ve stumbled many times, sometimes irreversibly, by not understanding these “little things.”
First and foremost, remember that there are only fifty people in the world. Of course, this isn’t true literally. But it often feels that way because you’re likely to bump into people you know, or people who know the people you know, all over the world. The person sitting next to you might become your boss, your employee, your customer, or your sister-in-law. Over the course of your life, the same people will quite likely play many different roles. I’ve had many occasions in which individuals who were once my superiors later came to me for help, and I’ve found myself going to people who were once my subordinates for guidance. The roles we play continue to change in surprising ways over time, and you will be amazed by the people who keep showing up in your life.
Because we live in such a small world, it really is important to build bridges—and never to burn them no matter how tempted you might be. You aren’t going to like everyone and everyone isn’t going to like you, but there’s no need to make enemies. For example, when you look for your next job, it’s quite likely that the person interviewing you will know someone you know. In this way your reputation precedes you everywhere you go. This is beneficial when you have a great reputation but harmful when your reputation is damaged.
I’ve seen the following scenario play out innumerable times. Imagine you’re interviewing for a job that has dozens of candidates. The interv
iew goes well, and you appear to be a great match for the position. During the meeting, the interviewer looks at your résumé and realizes that you used to work with an old friend of hers. After the interview, she makes a quick call to her friend to ask about you. A casual comment from her friend about your past performance can seal the deal or cut you off at the knees. In many cases you will believe the job was in the bag, right before you receive a rejection letter. You’ll never know what hit you.
Your reputation is your most valuable asset, so guard it well. But don’t be terribly demoralized if you make some mistakes along the way. With time, it is possible to repair a stained reputation. Over the years, I’ve come up with a metaphor that has helped me put this in perspective: Every experience you have with someone else is a drop of water falling into a pool. As your experiences with that person grow, the drops accumulate and the pool deepens. Positive interactions are clear drops of water, and negative interactions are red drops of water. But they aren’t equal. That is, a number of clear drops can dilute one red drop, and that number differs for different people. Those who are very forgiving only need a few positive experiences—clear drops—to dilute a bad experience, while those who are less forgiving need a lot more to wash away the red. Also, the pool drains at different rates for different people. As a result, some people only pay attention to the experiences that have happened most recently, while others hold on to good and bad experiences for a very long time.
This metaphor implies that if you have a large reserve of positive experiences with someone, then one red drop is hardly noticed. It’s like putting a drop of red ink into the ocean. But if you don’t know a person well, one or two bad experiences stain the pool bright red. You can wash away negative interactions by flooding the pool with positive interactions until the red drops fade, but the deeper the red, the more work you have to do to cleanse the pool. I’ve found that sometimes the pool color never clears. When that happens, it’s time to stop interacting with that particular person.
This serves as a reminder of the importance of every experience we have with others, whether they are friends, family members, coworkers, or service providers. In fact, some organizations actually capture information about how you treat them, and that influences how they treat you. For example, at some well-known business schools every interaction a candidate has with the school or its personnel is noted. If a candidate is rude to the receptionist, this is recorded in his or her file and comes into play when admissions decisions are made. This also happens at companies such as JetBlue. According to Bob Sutton in his book The No Asshole Rule, if you’re consistently rude to JetBlue’s staff, you will get blacklisted and find it strangely impossible to get a seat on their planes.1
Obviously, you can’t make everyone happy all the time, and some of your actions are going to ruffle feathers. One way to figure out how to handle these situations is to imagine how you will describe what happened later, when the dust has cleared. I’m reminded of a case a few years ago when a student came to me for advice. He was leading the campus-wide business plan competition, and one team hadn’t shown up for the final round of judging. Like all the teams that reach that stage of the competition, the team had been working on the project for seven months and had managed to make it over a lot of hurdles to get to the finish line. The team hadn’t received the message about the presentation time, in part because it was posted late and in part because they weren’t paying attention.
The student who came to ask my opinion was torn about what to do. He felt there were two clear choices: he could hold fast to the rules and disqualify the team or he could be flexible and find another time for them to present their work. His gut reaction was to stick to the rules. Everyone else had managed to show up, and it was going to be a burden to reschedule. The only guidance I gave him was this: whatever he did, I hoped he would be pleased with his decision at a later date. I urged him to consider how he would describe this challenge if during a job interview he were asked how he handled an ambiguous situation, or what he would tell his child about this experience years in the future. The delinquent team was subsequently allowed to present. Remember, thinking about how you want to tell the story in the future is a great way to assess your response to dilemmas in general. Craft the story now so you’ll be proud to tell it later.
* * *
Everyone makes mistakes, and floundering is part of life, especially when you’re doing things for the first time. I’ve spent countless hours kicking myself for stupid things I’ve done. However, I’ve also figured out that learning how to recover from those mistakes is key. For instance, knowing how to apologize is incredibly important. A simple acknowledgment that you messed up goes a long way. There’s no need for long speeches and explanations; just say, “I didn’t handle that very well. I apologize, and I won’t do that again.” The sooner you do this after recognizing your mistake, the better. If you wait a long time to apologize, the damage continues to grow.
I’ve had many chances to practice recovering from errors. This story is particularly memorable: Soon after I got out of school, I read an article in the local newspaper about plans to build the San Jose Tech Museum of Innovation. It sounded like it would be an amazing place to work. Jim Adams, a Stanford professor known for his pioneering work on creativity, would be the museum’s director. I called the museum office daily in an attempt to reach him but each time was told Jim wasn’t there. Although I didn’t leave messages, the receptionist learned to recognize my voice and informed Jim every time I called. By the time I reached him, Jim had a stack of messages from me that was nearly an inch tall.
Jim finally agreed to meet with me. I managed to pass the test with him during the interview, but there really was no formal job to offer me, and he ultimately suggested I talk with the woman who had recently been hired to lead the exhibit design effort. It’s not unlikely that her first assignment was to get rid of me. She invited me to lunch for an interview, but before we’d even ordered she said, “I just want to tell you that you’re not a good match for this organization. You’re just too pushy.” I felt tears welling up and had to think fast to pull out of the tailspin. I apologized, told her I appreciated the feedback, and said that most people would call me high energy and enthusiastic. Clearly, my enthusiasm had been misinterpreted. The tension melted, we had a fascinating conversation, and I walked away with a job offer.
This story demonstrates that it is important to take responsibility for your actions and be willing to learn from your experiences. Once that happens, you can quickly move on. And echoing an earlier point, the course I now teach on creativity at Stanford was pioneered by Jim Adams many years ago. It really is a very small world!
Jeannie Kahwajy, an expert on interpersonal interactions, performed research that shows that those who demonstrate that they are willing to learn can turn negative situations around very effectively. Jeannie ran experiments involving mock interviews by recruiters of job candidates. The recruiter was primed beforehand to have a negative bias toward the candidate. Of the three groups of candidates, one was instructed to prove they should get the job, one was told to learn from the interaction, and the final group, the control, was given no specific instructions. She found that the recruiter’s negative bias was reinforced for both the control group and the group that tried to prove they should get the job. However, the candidates who set out to learn from the interaction reversed the recruiter’s negative bias. What an insight! A mindset of learning is powerful enough to change someone’s negative bias toward you.
Another valuable skill is the art of helping others. When I was in college I spoke with my parents about once a week. At the end of every call my mother would say, “What can I do to be helpful to you?” The generosity of this gesture made a huge impression on me. In most cases there was nothing she could do to be helpful, but just knowing she was willing to help if needed was comforting. As I got older, I realized we all can do this for our friends, family, and colleagues. When you ask others if
you can help, they are always pleased that you offered. A small number will actually take you up on your offer, and the things they ask for are usually modest. On rare occasions, someone will ask for something you can’t or don’t want to do. Even when you turn them down, they are grateful that you offered and graciously accept the fact that you aren’t able to help. This concept is also discussed in the chapter on making your own luck, since the more you help others, the luckier you get.
I suggest that you try this sometime, if you don’t do it routinely already. But you must be sincerely willing to help if your offer is accepted. As Guy Kawasaki says, “You should always try to be a ‘mensch.’” He continues, “A mensch helps people who cannot help them. A mensch is not motivated by the fact of ‘Wow! This person is the western regional manager for the Wall Street Journal, and if I suck up to this Wall Street Journal person, maybe I will get some good press. This person can help me, therefore I will help them.’ A mensch does not think like that. A mensch thinks, ‘I will help people for the sheer pleasure of helping people.’ You know, a waiter cannot really do much for you. I guess they could bring your food, but you know besides that, they cannot do very much. You want to see a good test for a mensch? Watch how they treat waiters, and waitresses, and flight attendants. . . . Ultimately, at the end of one’s life, you are judged not by your market share, not whether you beat the US Department of Justice Antitrust Division, not because you had the most German cars, or Italian cars. You are judged by, ‘Did you make the world a better place?’”2
I clearly remember when I didn’t know how to do this. When I was a freshman in college there was a fellow in my class who had a physical disability that required him to use crutches to walk. One day he slipped walking down a ramp to class and fell to the ground. As he was struggling to get up, I didn’t know what to do. I felt uncomfortable walking by without helping, but I was afraid that if I approached him I would embarrass him by drawing attention to his disability. I felt the same way when a classmate lost his mother to a long illness. I didn’t know what to say, fearing I would say something wrong, and opted to say nothing. Years later, I was running on campus at Stanford. It had rained the day before, and I slipped and fell hard in some mud. Bruised, hurt, and muddy, I sat on the curb with tears streaming down my face. At least a dozen people walked by, and not one asked me if I needed anything. At that exact moment I knew what I should have said to the fellow who had fallen in front of class years earlier and to my classmate who had lost his mother. All I needed was someone to ask, “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?” It now seems so simple. It’s remarkable that it took me so many years to figure this out.
