The perils of stationery shopping (in Mumbai)

I was at a local stationery shop today, looking for an obscure product, so I decided to get some help. With no uniforms to guide me, I thought the nondescript middle-aged man idling on the shop floor might be an employee. So I asked him, "Do you work here?"

He got very upset.

"No, do YOU work here?!" He glared at me and added, "Do I LOOK like I work here?"

I tried to keep a straight face and asked him, "What do people who work here look like?"

"Not like me," he scoffed, and then turned around.

The man behind the cash register was less offended when I asked for his help. He was also wearing a Taqiyah, a traditional Muslim cap.

I will crush my new year’s resolution (will you?)

“Efficiency is doing things right. Effectiveness is doing the right things.” –Peter Drucker

My goal this year is to recompose 20 pounds of my weight, i.e. the sum of fat lost and muscle gained should be 20 pounds or greater. I plan to crush this goal, and for once I am sure that I will.

I’ve been experimenting with productivity hacks and have finally found a technique that works for me.

Here’s my secret technique: I do not do ANYTHING before I finish my yoga workout, unless something directly makes it EASIER to do my workout.

Each day I wake up, make coffee, drink the coffee and if I’m hungry, eat a banana. I read about yoga while I’m doing this. When my coffee and banana are done, I start my workout. I put my phone on silent, in a drawer. These activities make my workout easier by boosting energy, reducing hunger, and neutralizing distractions. Even my reading material improves my workout.

Things that make my workout “easier” must relate directly to the activity, so, for example, adjusting the fan and playing some pump-up music would be allowed. While replying to an urgent email may take it off my mind, it does not make sirsanana (headstand pose) any easier, so it is not allowed. Shutting the computer off (not sleep, not hibernate), however, is a good idea.

I also make sure not to schedule any commitments after 10 p.m. so that I can get a good rest, or before 12 p.m., so that I always have enough buffer time. If I’m tired, I go slowly, or skip some parts. I don’t worry too much when this happens. I just focus on my one, simple rule – not doing anything else until I finish – and I usually wind up doing at least 90 percent of the two-hour workout.

I can use this rule for any activity that I deem the most important thing I want to do every day. For me, it happens to be the same thing every day, but I could also use a task list. To make the technique possible, I do need to prioritize (A recent injury created the necessary impetus to prioritize my workout). When my daily goal becomes writing a book, my rule will be, “I cannot do anything before I finish writing one sentence.”

I’ve used several additional tactics to further increase the odds that I’ll achieve my goal. One is to create pressure by publicly stating the goal, which I’ve done by writing this blog. Another is to make the goal into a competition with real incentives, so I’ve made a financial bet with five friends. The last is to consistently measure my results, which I’m doing with a simple spreadsheet.

Note: Tim Ferriss has been a great source of guidance. I’m currently reading his bestseller, The 4-Hour Body.

I don’t have a career path, and neither should you

Somewhere along the line we bought into the paradigm of the career path. This is the notion that careers should be characterized by a linear route leading to a known destination.

A path is a pragmatic vehicle. The same path can be followed by droves of people, and in fact it is more efficient if we all choose the same path.

Within this paradigm, I can assume that if I chart out a career path and am disciplined in adhering to it, I can expect to attain increasing status, position, and income.

The problem with the paradigm of the career path is that it rests on a flawed assumption: that people know now where they want to be in the future.

Yet, it is self-evident that as we live our lives, we learn more about ourselves, and become exposed to new ideas and opportunities that could drastically alter what we want in life.

I’m not saying that everyone should change careers constantly. After all, the things we value and enjoy may not change much through our lives, and it’s likely that certain career themes would remain constant.

I’m saying that maybe our wholesale acceptance of the career path paradigm causes us to turn down opportunities that will make us happier, simply because they do not advance us along "the path.” In fact, we may never even notice or consider these opportunities in the first place. Like horses with blinders, we can only move straight ahead.

Suppose that today I’m an entrepreneur, but I’ve always dreamed of going to China for a year to study the ancient art of Kung Fu, which strives to achieve balance through hard work.

Under the career path paradigm, I view the Kung Fu as a detour, a slower, non-optimized route to success. Kung Fu will not help me grow my company.

I prefer to think of my career as a dance or painting. When painting, it is acceptable to turn the brush in any direction at any time, or to another part of the canvas. There is no notion of forward or backward.

A dance or painting is a work of instinct and imagination, and most importantly, a unique manifestation of what’s inside. Careers should be like that too.

Under this paradigm, if I have Kung Fu in my heart, I ought to do Kung Fu. If, after one year of Kung Fu, I no longer want to be an entrepreneur, then I have saved years of my life that I might have spent working toward a false goal.

If, however, I still want to be an entrepreneur, I will pursue this goal without the regret that I subverted my Kung Fu dream to achieve it. And better yet, I will bring to bear the balance and discipline of Kung Fu in all that I do.

Why do you want to be an entrepreneur, anyway?

"Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." – Winston Churchill¹

Around 2007, I decided that I should one day become an entrepreneur. I reasoned that I was a creative person, always thinking of ways to improve things around me. I was comfortable with uncertainty. I liked the idea of being my own boss, of being free.

Yet, it took me years to build the courage to start my own company.

What if my idea wasn’t good enough? What if I tapped out my savings? What if I became depressed working alone? What if I just wasn’t cut out for it? If I failed, would anyone still hire me?

As it turns out, I was asking the wrong questions.

Having finally started a company, I’ve learned that only one thing matters: Complete commitment to the outcome.

By "outcome" I don't mean an IPO, a sports car and a mansion. I mean that an entrepreneur must be completely committed to solving a particular problem for a particular group of people.

The commitment can come from a variety of sources – obsession, passion, need, discipline – but the completeness of that commitment is essential. In contrast, great ideas are relatively useless².

Imagine you are shipwrecked and stranded on an island. You have one flair. Your first survival strategy might be to shoot that flair in hopes of being spotted. But you will also try to think of a hundred other ways to survive. You are completely committed to the outcome (survival), and will try as many ideas as you possibly can to achieve it.

As an entrepreneur, your ideas will fail repeatedly. It’s a statistical certainty³. You will work without income indefinitely. You will mostly work alone. In other words, if you want to succeed, you will have to persevere in spite of being a poor, lonely, failure.

To summarize, I've learned two lessons: First, if you’re not completely committed to the outcome, then you will inevitably give up. Second, if you want to be an entrepreneur, you should stop worrying about your idea, and do whatever it is you’re most passionate about. You’ll figure out the rest⁴. 

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Howard Thurman

[1]   Why I hire people who fail, my inspiration for writing this
[2]   Amazing essay about ideas by Paul Graham, Y Combinator Founder
[3]   A web search with the terms “what percentage of entrepreneurs fail”
[4]   Stellar compilation of startup lessons that helps me figure things out

Twitterize Congress

What if Congress had a character limit on new legislation? I think 5000 characters would do the trick.

Pork-barrelling would be next to impossible. Laws would be incremental and focused on single issues. Complex issues would be broken into pieces.

Lawmakers would have to use the simplest possible language. The layperson (even school children!) could understand (and therefore participate in) politics.

New laws could quickly be drafted and understood. Debates would focus on few topics and Congressmen could place votes without compromising one position for another.

Best of all, the “iParticipate” app would hit the top 10 in the app store. Lawmakers could poll their constituencies in the time it takes for a floor debate. Instead of reading the news on the train, commuters could weigh in with votes and opinions on the latest bills. Those will long commutes could even draft bills en route to the office. Talk about crowd-sourcing!

It’s time for Politics 2.0.