The Truth Can Be So Underwhelming

I was recently asked to participate in a roundtable discussion at a leadership conference. Even though I knew better, I agreed to join the panel; it was a mistake to say yes. I was positioned as the AI contributor within a group that had little AI experience. To be clear, the audience, the topic, nor the fact that I was supposed to bring my A game wasn’t the problem. The problem is I have come to accept that the insight I typically offer is too often counter to what people want to hear.

I’m not suggesting I am a curmudgeon; well maybe I am. But that’s not the point. The point is people have come to expect simple answers, and a rosy view of their future. In fact, I would go so far as to say society has reached a point where we would rather feel good and be told everything is going to be awesome than hear the truth.

As I was thinking about this topic, I was grabbing a bite to eat at a small deli; I was lost in my thoughts. At some point I looked up and saw a sign that read, “The only thing more overrated than natural childbirth, is the joy of owning your own business.” I loved the message and was naturally intrigued; I had to see if I could meet the owner; she was in the back.

After telling her how good my meatball sub was, I asked her about the sign.

Her response, “Those words are as true today as they were when I hung the sign ten years ago.”

She looked at me to see my reaction and I nodded a knowing smile in return. Not that I know anything about childbirth, but I sure know that running your own business is hard.

What if business advisors focusing on entrepreneurship spent time on the challenges that you will face if you embark on that career? What if they spent a couple of sessions describing the personal strain, emotional challenges, and the fear that starting your own company causes. Do you think many people would seek to run their own business? Or would the same number pursue their dream, but with a clearer picture of what was in store. I am reminded of a time when I taught an honor level entrepreneur class for seniors at UT. These students were eager, aggressive, and self-confident and they had every reason to be. There was an expectation from the college that I would follow a curriculum and stick to accepted principles; and I did, generally. However, I felt my message was disingenuous. How could I spend a semester covering everything they should know to give them a path to success when I was missing the most important truths?

Finally, one day I told the class to close their laptops, put everything on their desk away and focus on me. I told them I had something they needed to hear.

I began with, “How many of you are driven to be an entrepreneur by the money you can make?”

They all raised their hands. I asked a student in the front row if he had a number in mind that he wanted to be worth. Without missing a beat he said, “Fifty million.”

I said, “That’s a good number, nothing wrong with that.”

I noticed all the other students in the class nodded their agreement. So, I followed with, “Given the reaction in the room, I assume this number would work for all of you?” They all smiled.

“Fair enough,” I said.

“How much are willing to sacrifice to make that happen?”

Again, with no hesitation, the same student in the front row said, “Whatever it takes.”

The rest of the class nodded with their approval. It was at that moment I turned the room upside down. “Okay, sounds like you know what you want and what you will do to get it so allow me to ask some questions to gage how serious you are.”

For the next several minutes I rolled through the following questions as the students sat quietly; growing more subdued as I went.

“Are you willing to obsess over the business, and make it your primary focus in life?”

“Are you willing to forego having a family?”

“If you have a family, are you willing to miss important events and risk losing your spouse, or having your kids hate you?”

“Are you willing to sleep at the office, or live on the road?”

“Are you willing to risk everything for the hope of your dream?”

“Are you willing to accept that in time it won’t be about you, but your success will be dependent on other people?”

“Can you accept that luck will play an outsized role in your future?”

“Can you accept failure?”

“Are you willing to learn, because right now you are learning theories, but theories don’t make payroll?”

After a while I ran out of things to say and the class was shell shocked. Sitting there, in silence, I realized no one had ever told them business was hard and the success they see others have, came with a price. It was the most demotivating class I ever taught, but it was the best lecture I ever gave.

At the end of class, it was quiet. No one said a word as they packed up and headed for the door. For a moment I thought I might have lost them; if that were true the rest of the semester would have been hard to complete. I shouldn’t have worried; at the next class everyone dutifully filed into the room and pensively sat at their desk. Before I could start, the same young man in the front row raised his hand and said, “Thanks for the last class. It scared the crap out of me, but it forced me to think about the truth and to begin to develop parameters for my future.”

Again, the other eight students nodded their approval with what he said. Not surprisingly, we spent the next hour talking openly, and candidly about their dreams, fears, and truth. It was my favorite hour in the nine semesters I taught. Since that group graduated, I have heard from all of them, and they all have referenced that moment as a defining moment in how they built their career.

It is a great story, but what’s important isn’t about what happened that day in Knoxville. The takeaway is a question of are we honest when we are called to give advice or counsel?

It is a hard thing to do, to be forthright when someone seeks your counsel. When someone asks you what the secret to your success is, they want a concise, simple answer they can hold onto, and you don’t want to feel less than impressive with the truth. People don’t want to feel negative; they want to feel good. To be supported and told how to follow a dream. I see nothing wrong with that, it just misses the other side of the coin. And there are always two sides.

I have been called cocky and arrogant over the years, and I won’t spend energy disputing it. On some level it was true, and another the feedback wasn’t fair. What I have found is whenever I engage in discussing the full picture, the good and the bad, I get harsh pushback. In my earlier years it didn’t matter, I decided if someone asked me my advice or thoughts, I gave it to them. I might have even offered my view when it wasn’t asked, and in hindsight, that was dumb. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bear to watch people naively act as though what they were about to embark on was a perfectly placed bed of rose petals.

In time, I have changed. Maybe it is age, maybe I am just over the conflict that comes with hard conversations. That is why the opportunity to sit on a panel about leadership and discuss AI was a recipe for a less than stellar outcome. AI has a lot of unanswered questions. There are lots of things to worry about. Blindly pursuing AI or accepting it without understanding the important components of what it does and can do is worrying. But guess what, the moderator didn’t want to hear any part of that. I don’t blame him, it is more fun to assume only the positives, otherwise the presentation could be viewed as underwhelming.

When things are likely to be tough, I want to know it. Our country is borne on the back of those who freely made sacrifices to achieve something; are we following that path or are we afraid to consider everything that might happen because we don’t want to feel bad? I don’t know; but listening to people pat themselves on the back for what they want without paying a price for it, feels underwhelming to me.