Pow! Right Between The Eyes! Andy Nulman's Blog About Surprise

What I Learned This Week--Evening Out Life's Odds

I got into a...well, let's call it an "animated discussion" Sunday night at (of all places!) an Oscar party about (of all subjects!) mathematical probabilities.

The argu...okay, "animated discussion," centered on little Quvenzhané Wallis' chances to take home the trophy (which is almost her size) for Best Actress.

My antagonist (for I am ALWAYS the protagonist) was one of those "betting guys" who scours the Net, reads the magazines and checks the Las Vegas "official line" for all things of undecided outcome, be they championship football games, high-office elections or competitions for golden statues given for appearances in little-seen films.  

He insisted--quite authoritatively, I must add--that despite her remarkable performance, the child prodigy had less than a 10% chance of winning. He based his insistence on a multitude of factors, including her age, her inexperience, her being up against media darling Jennifer Lawrence and the fact that Entertainment Weekly "had her at only 5%."

Needless to say, he was enraged when I calmly said he was wrong, and that her odds of winning were 50:50.

Cut to an obsessive friend of mine, who's up for a life-changing role in a hit TV reality show.  He was part of a final audition pool of 20 candidates, "so on the surface, it's a 5% chance," says he.  But being obsessive and over-analytical, he reduces his reality to about half that "because the producers may want to go with a minority more visible than me, or maybe with a woman to balance out the show's cast, or maybe someone older..."

I tried to calm him, to reason with him, to even compare him to an Oscar-nominated actress by saying that like darling Quvenzhané, his chances too, are 50:50.

Here's why.

Life doesn't listen

to the odds.

Life may use them as a crutch, but unlike the risk-management algorithms used in the banking and insurance industries, life's "odds" are like ghosts--wispy, ephemeral visions that emerge when we get scared.

In a competitive field of five (like Quvenzhané) or 20 (like my friend) or even 100, it doesn't matter is who or what you are up against. It doesn't matter what advantages--real or imagined--your competitors may have on you.  

All that matters is whether you win.  

Or whether you don't.

Thus, my very rational 50:50 argument.

Now I'm no arithmetic ignoramus.  I took advanced statistics at McGill and ravenously devour all sorts of media on predictive data.  It's just that, in the end, who cares what's stacked up against you?

In the end, it's either you...

or not you.

You, or not you.  This is what VCs bet on when you show them your business plan.  This is what your teammates and your fans depend on when it's that big match showdown.  It's what your family and significant other are waiting for after that big job interview.

This is what it all boils down to.

The competition is irrelevant.  So is the playing field.  So is the inclement weather, or the past history or the favoritism, or any of the intangible variables that may be held up in the end as excuses.

When the ultimate decision comes, the only relevance your ultimate position.

Standing tall, or on your ass?  Or put another way, heads or tails?

So even though she didn't win last night, kudos to sweet Quvenzhané.  I ate a handful of gleefully-delivered "I told you so's" in her honour, but I know she'll be back in contention as she blooms from child actress into a young woman...uh, just like Oscar winner Jennifer Lawrence.

Uh...51:49 for her next time, anyone?

 

What I Learned This Week--Copping Out and Muzzling the Pitbull

Sometimes, I learn by observing.  Other times by reading.  I rarely miss by listening, and often am surprised by what I pick up while actually talking.

But in my continued quest for constant learning, rarely have I had as much fun being taught something as I did during a post-talk talk late last week.

The conversation took place at a bar, a couple of hours after I had finished delivering an animated, no-holds-barred, expletitive-laced speech for F&O Public, a gathering put together by innovative Internet retailer Frank and Oak.

Said event's audience was a group of F&O employees, investors, business associates as well as assorted friends and family.  An almost stereotypical assembly of "the new corporation," just about all of them were under 30, net-savvy, uniquely-dressed, and paradoxically confident and insecure at the same time.

The conversation's audience was a small splinter group of the event, fully representative of its demographic, spirit, look and feel. While the larger theme was comparing the "way things used to be" to "the way they are now," the conversation focused on the collaborative nature of today's digital-based, start-up culture, and the increased irrelevance of two old-school corporate archetypes, namely the "Good Cop/Bad Cop" mix and the "Pitbull."

I'm slightly paraphrasing and protecting the reputation of some beer-inspired ranters, but the conventional wisdom amongst this g-g-g-g-g-generation is that nobody believes the good cop, nobody's afraid of the bad cop, everyone sees through their act (gotta love Dan Pirarro's brilliant cartoon above), and the Pitbull is a one-trick pony performing an outdated trick.

Snippets of the Cop conversation in essence:

• "The Good Cop is powerless, and the only fear of the Bad Cop is that he or she may eventually go postal or rogue, like Christoper Dorner."

• "We have smart phones and smart cars, so instead of a Good or Bad' Cop how about a Smart Cop that ensures mutual respect?  In the past, every time we had to endure a Good Cop/Bad Cop scenario, it ended up divisive and ultimately damaging."  

• "We don't need to be 'policed' at work, or feel that there's some sort of interrogation going on. Where I work, we don't always agree, or even always get along, but we ultimately end up explaining all sides of a situation before settling on a decision that's best for the business.  People aren't always in synch with the decision, but at least the process of arriving at it is transparent."

After another round of drinks, the topic shifted over to the office Pitbull:

• "This role may have been relevant in the days of 'Chainsaw Al Dunlap' (the ruthless corporate downsizer of the '80s and '90s), but not today.  There are too many things interconnected and at stake, and talent have too many options, for slash-and-burn tactics."

• "The bark is worse than the bit in most cases, but the scary part is that the bite is usually indiscriminate. I have two dogs, and to them, the piece of Kobe beef and the old banana peel are the same thing--food.   Put both in front of them, and they'll both be devoured, usually whatever is closest goes first.  No distinction, no subtlety, no difference. That's the psyche of a Pitbull--every problem is the same.  Just get through it as fast as possible and move onto the next one."

• "The Pitbull may get some things right, but no matter what, will make more enemies than friends.  As time moves on, these enemies will make everything harder, eventually muzzling the Pitbull and minimizing his or her effectiveness. It's so much easier working together than fighting each other."

Business ain't easy.  Maintaining growth in today's economy is an uphill battle; jeez, just maintaining an actual economy is tough.  And listening to the opinions of some sharp, young people at a bar coming off the euphoria of an industry function may not be precisely indicative of "the way things are."

But at least by talking to those understanding, reaching for and grinding out "the way they should be" gives me a lot of hope for our future.

And for the realization that there will be always plenty more for me to learn.

 

What I Learned This Week--How To STAY In

Mid-February marks a very special time in my calendar every year.  

It's a time of courtship and match-making; of romance, promises of devotion and the start of what could be a beautiful relationship.

Forget Valentine's Day; I speak of the deluge of CVs and requests for summer jobs at Just For Laughs that starts just as students write their winter mid-terms.

I could go into detail about what makes a great "hire me" pitch (back in 1999, I even put together a five-part series on the subject for CBC-TV), but more important these days is what happens to the candidate once he or she actually becomes an employee.

It USED to be that the competition was fiercest amongst those trying to get in.  These days, the tide has shifted somewhat; the REAL challenge is staying in once you get there.

With that in mind, this week's learning is actually this week's teaching; it's what I learned in three-plus decades of navigating the workforce, both as an employee and an employer, and often the hard way.  

So without any further ado, here are three simple steps on "How To STAY In"...each one so cleverly incorporating the ultimate term.

1) Be INteresting

There are thousands of ways to do this, very few of them bad.  Stand out with your clothes, with your work ethic, with the way you decorate your office/cubicle/desk.  Share your off-beat hobbies, taste in music or leftovers from last night's supper.  

Do what it takes to make your peers and your superiors notice you...and have them wonder what else this INrtriguing person has up his or her sleeve. 

2) Be a Pain-IN-The-Ass

Counter-INtuitive, yes...but necessary in the process of sticking around.  INteresting is a great starter, but this step is where one has to upset the apple cart, break a few eggs, shatter a few egos, shift a few paradigms and risk it all.  

Great employees/team members have to take a make-or-break INitiative; it adds depth and cred to the shiny object that surfaced in step one.  There are no great advances accomplished in perfect harmony.  

True, it could backfire, but without this leap of faith, you'll never get past Step 1, let alone approach Step 3.

3) Be INdispensible

A successful Pain-IN-The-Ass is tomorrow's leader; the future that bosses, subordinates, shareholders and corporate entities in general need to bank on. Once you cross this chasm, you become both INvaluable and INdespensible.  

While nobody is irreplaceable, the thought of moving forward without you is almost heresy. You don't have to be as overbearing as Steve Jobs or Larry Ellison, but a unique lynchpin-esque piece of the puzzle in your own right and style.  You become a franchise player...and in the great circle of life, the one responsible for noticing the next INteresting Pain-IN-The-Ass. 

The real beauty of this process is that it's not limited to the corporate world.  It's equally as pertinent and powerful in the world of sports (think Montreal Canadiens defenceman P.K. Subban), on TV shows (think Kevin O'Leary of Dragon's Den and Shark Tank) or in the arts (just look up Shepard Fairey, Picasso, Warhol, Damien Hirst and countless others).

What I love about these "Multi-Step" programs that infest today's media is how simple they look on paper (or screen, more likely).  I also know the truth; getting there is tough, takes time and the journey is filled with so many ups and downs that you have a hard time understanding what you've done until the years allow you the proper vantage point for reflection.  

But if you don't start looking IN to this now...you'll be looking OUT for yourself forever.

What I Learned This Week--Just Say Yes

About three weeks ago, I was asked to deliver a keynote speech.  

And I've been wavering on giving a definitive answer ever since.  

For the record, it's at a gathering of Young Chamber of Commerce Organizations, so the setting is relatively pertinent to my day-to-day.  It's being held in picturesque Quebec City on a Saturday in early June, so I can make a weekend out of it.  And the request comes from one of my cousins, so I know the responsible party is, well, somewhat responsible.

But I've been hesitant on giving him an answer for a number of good reasons, primarily because I have so much going on at that time of year and I can't be 100% sure that something won't come up to screw up the plans.

So today...I said "Yes" anyway.

Earlier last week I also said "Yes" to a series of three-year business financial projections that can be scuttled in a heartbeat by a myriad of variables way beyond my realm of control.

But I said "Yes" anyway.

That response was not merely my big learning this week, but why I will continue to say "Yes" way more than I say "No" for the foreseeable future.  Even when I am not entirely certain of the outcome.

Here's the reasoning.

No matter what the game, or the project, saying "Yes" maintains your presence in it.  Saying "No" shuts you out, and shuts things down.

Say "Yes" and you can always come back and say "No" later; the option to stop is yours.

Say "No" and you can't go back and look for a "Yes" later; the other party will most likely have moved on, making your chances to re-start or rekindle the "Yes" spark nearly impossible.  Getting to "Yes" after first saying "No" is like trying to light a waterlogged firecracker.  The spark is gone.

"Yes" keeps you alive, even if you have no idea where you're going.  Either you figure things out along the way, or things blow up in your face.  But even if it's the latter, in the end, you're rarely any worse off than you'd be had you said "No" in the first place.  

No matter how much you plan in advance, you will never even come close to fully controlling the unknown. Reminds me of a great quote:

"You wanna make God laugh?

Tell him (or her, I suppose)

your plans."

Funny, but very profound.  So don't try to control life's ups and downs by overthinking the future; ride 'em out instead on your Yes-board.

Perhaps the best way to drive home this message, and end this off with a smile, is with this true Just For Laughs anecdote of a few years ago.

A well-known comedian, who shall remain nameless, was going through a terrible bout of depression (uh, this isn't the funny part).  On a particularly horrible day, he called his manager and told him that he was about to commit suicide.

The manager wisely kept his despondent client on the phone, motioned his assistant into his office, and had her call 911 from another line.  Police cars and an ambulance crew were dispatched to the comedian's house, broke their way in, subdued the man and rushed him to the hospital.  

The manager sped over to the hospital as well.  While there, he filled out papers, called the comic's family, and spoke to a series of different doctors.  After a few hours, things settled down somewhat, so the manager called his office to see if there were any messages.  His assistant rattled off the names of a few people who had called before hitting him with this:

"Bruce Hills from Just For Laughs called.  

"They're going to press with their ads and programme.  He told me to tell you that he needs to know RIGHT NOW whether or not (the comedian) will be coming this summer.  

"They want him for a week of club dates, an outdoor concert and two different sets for their TV shows in Canada, the USA and Great Britain."

The manager told his assistant to give him a minute, and handed his cellphone to someone to hold as he made his way down to the hall to check in on his client.  Once there, he peeked into his room, and to his horror, saw the comedian violently struggling against arm restraints and a team of orderlies, all the while barking out equally violent threats against himself and others.

The manager walked back down the hall, took back his phone, took a deep breath, and calmly said this to his assistant:

"Tell him yes!" 

P.S.  The comedian ended up making to that year's festival.  And to many others since then.