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No BS Friday: I Give Up (Seriously)

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Give up trying to ‘make it’.

You are never going to make it.

But this is the secret that no one tells you.

There is no “make it”.

There is no point where you’re done, where you’re putting your feet up with a whiskey in your hand and thinking, yep, I’m a success.

Because if you’re defining success on your achievements – on your business successes, on your fancy cars, on you funds under management – you’re chaining yourself to the wheel.

There is nothing you can do that will ever be good enough. Think about Alexander the Great.

He’d conquered half of Asia Minor and it still wasn’t good enough.

Even the most mighty king is never free.

But freedom can be yours.

Don’t look to what you do in the world, but look to what you do in yourself.

Do you give everything every thing that you’ve got?

Do you rise to meet your fears and hit things with relentless courage?

Do you strive to see yourself clearly and honestly in the mirror, striving to be the best version of yourself that you can be?

This is the only definition of success that matters.

And so this is the secret I will share with you. When you set your soul on this course, then you can “make it.” You can be a success.

You can sit back, take a long look at yourself in the mirror and think,

“Yes, I am the person I want to be.”

Then you will have made it.

And peace and freedom will be yours.

Take the pressure off now… give up!

Surrender to the person that you truely want to be…

The real YOU!

NO B.S.FRIDAY: Who Was MY “Rich Dad?”

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I owe a lot to just one man.

At one of our conferences the other day, someone asked me who my favourite investor was.

I guess they were expecting me to go with Warren Buffet or Richard Branson or something like that.

And as much as I love those guys, the truth is I model my investment philosophy on someone else – a man named Alan.

I don’t expect you to have ever heard of Alan. He was a friend of my fathers, and was around when I was a teenager – when my father would have ‘the boys’ over for a drinking session on the back patio.

He also never amassed the kind of fortune that makes you famous (or notorious). But that never bothered him. He was never in it for the fame. For him, it was the creative challenge of it all. To him, investing was more like a sport.

And I know we’re all unique, but Alan was truly unique. Like he had been installed with a different operating system or something. He would be entirely, full-power present with you one moment, and then in the blink of the eye, he would be lost to some creative horizon, almost like he was talking to you from a different room (or different dimension).

But as unique as he was, he was a great role-model to young investors like me. Here are three things I took form the gospel of Alan.

1. Walk your own path

I’m struggling to think of a rule that Alan followed to the letter. Maybe, ‘wear pants in public’. (I never saw him without pants, but then again, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a ‘pantless phase’ at some point.)

But Alan wasn’t a rebel for the sake of it.  He wasn’t anti-authoritarian by nature. He just didn’t see any rules as fixed. Everything was up for negotiation. Everything could be looked at with fresh eyes. You could write your own rules.

Many of us just accept the limits that are placed on us without ever really testing them – without even asking ‘why?’ Many of these limits are inherited – from society or from our parents, or from something an elf said on Lord of the Rings once. They’re not really ours.

Limits are ok, but we need to do the work to make sure that we’re ok with the limits we accept – that they are actually in alignment with our values.

2. Push yourself…. Hard.

Another thing that inspired me about Alan was that he seemed to be addicted to pushing his own boundaries. He was constantly challenging himself. Constantly taking himself off in new directions.

It was like one week he was doing property development. The next it was a tourism business in Queensland. The next it was family-run vineyard in New Zealand.

You know how some weight-lifters get addicted to doing weights. Arnold Swartznegger once said it was better than sex. (Might depend on how you’re doing it, Arnie.) But even though lifting heavy weights is a difficult and challenging and exhausting thing, they get addicted to it. They can’t get enough of it.

Alan was like that when it came to challenges that pushed his boundaries – that expanded his comfort zone.

Ultimately I wonder if Alan might have been a more successful investor if he had stuck with just one thing. It’s like me. I know what I like. I like property in general, and right now, town-house developments in particular.

The more experience you have, the easier something becomes.

But while I’ve probably now made more money than Alan ever did, I can say for certain that Alan had more fun doing it.

Every new venture was an adventure and an opportunity to learn a little bit more about himself.

This is an inspiring way to live.

3. Back yourself… to the hilt.

The other thing that inspired me about Alan was that he had absolute faith in his own resources. He was relentless with self-education and self-improvement (which is another thing I took from him), so he did have a deep-well to draw on.

But many people have a lot of skills. Not everyone has an unshakeable belief in their capacities.

It’s kind of why Alan was able to drop into so many worlds, and take on such different projects.

It was like he knew that whatever happened, he’d make it work. If that delicatessen in Fitzroy turned out to be a dud, he’d turn it into something. He’d make it fly.

And if he couldn’t? Well, it was like he just had faith that everything works out for the best in the end.

He had faith in himself and faith in the world.

Put those two together, and the world just becomes your playground.

An ordinary / not-so ordinary hero

The last I heard of Alan he was off to WA to manage a cattle station or something, and I think he’s probably passed away now.

But of all the characters I’ve met in my life, Alan stands out as one of the most inspiring – perhaps not as an investor, but definitely as a being determined to live life to the fullest. And after all, isn’t that what we’re really talking about?

Power Challenge 6/8: Receiving

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Your opportunity to win an I-pad – and make a full-power start to the year. Challenge Six – Receiving

Ok, so this is the Knowledge Source Power Challenge – your opportunity to set a cracking start to the year and win some great prizes.

We’re getting down to the business end, but it’s not too late to get on board. This is where we are at so far:

Challenge One: Energy

Challenge Two: Know your pain

Challenge Three: Take the reins

Challenge Four: Radical Honesty

Challenge Five: Connection

Challenge Six: Receiving

Challenge Seven: LOCKED

Challenge Eight: LOCKED

So today, I wanted to look at the often-overlooked art of receiving.

The Australia Day holiday is coming up. It’s a good time to reflect on our capacity to receive – rest, nourishment, anything.

It is actually an art. It’s a skill that we need to practice. I think we start out pretty good, as children. But as we grow up, we lose the knack.

In many ways, growing up itself is learning how to give more than we receive.

And why are children so good at receiving? I think it is because they are ok with being vulnerable. They are little. They don’t have fire-arms. Vulnerability is their natural state.

When we receive, we are put in a vulnerable state. Power lies with the giver. They are the one with the gift. They are the one orchestrating the transaction.

And so as we become adults and no longer have the luxury of wallowing in helplessness, we turn away from vulnerability. It’s something we run from.

As a result, we become givers. We feel powerful when we are giving, and we find it difficult to withstand the vulnerability required to receive.

We cannot ‘tolerate’ it. It’s why so many of us just suck at receiving.

But receiving is a very important skill. I mean, think about your vision for where your life is going. Doesn’t it involve receiving a passive income stream from your investments, receiving love and affection from your family, receiving a Long Island Ice Tea from the pool boy?

Doesn’t the ultimate realisation of your vision involve a lot of receiving? So when are you going to practice that? You’re not just going to magically get better at it once you’ve made your money.

And what does the universe make of someone who is always pushing away opportunities to receive? What message is that sending?

So we need to practice the art of receiving. And to do that, we must practice the art of standing in our vulnerability.

So this is your challenge for today.

Place yourself in a situation of receiving. Ask your wife for a foot rub, ask your friend for a compliment, as the trolley boy to carry your shopping, ask your children to make dinner. It doesn’t matter, just find one thing that puts you squarely in the receivers seat.

Tell us what it is…

And do it.

And when you do it, treat it as an act of endurance. It’s like running a marathon, or jumping in an ice bath, or sitting in a super-hot sauna. But just notice how it draws on your inner resources just to be able to tolerate it.

Notice how we all have to learn to tolerate love, tolerate affection, tolerate care… as ridiculous as that sounds.

And maybe commit to building up your tolerance levels this year.

So that’s it. That’s the challenge for the week. Hit up the blog and let us know:

What are you going to do this week to practice the art of receiving? Just one thing. (And if you can’t think of one act of pure receiving, what does that say about your life?) How long were you able to ‘endure’ it?

And here’s hoping you’re open to receiving everything you deserve this year.

Jon

Ps – Hit us up in the comments of down below for this challenge, while –This link will take you to the previous challenges. It’s not too late to have the best year ever.

Power Challenge 3/8: Take the Reins

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Your opportunity to win an I-pad – and make a full-power start to the year. Challenge Three – Take the reins.

Alright, the Power Challenge is in full-swing. There are 360 (so far!) heroic individuals who have committed to making this an awesome year. I’m giving you eight quick but deep challenges to see if you are fully in alignment.

(Think of it as a tune up for your success engine.)

There’s still time to get on board. Find the challenges here. As long as you do all eight challenges some time this month you’ll be eligible for the prize draw. I’m relaxed like that.

Ok, so challenge number three. This is about self-discipline.

The road to self-mastery begins with mastering the body.

The Buddha said that the conscious mind’s controls the body the way a rider controls an elephant. The elephant is strong, and has agendas of it’s own. It won’t just do what you say unless you have established control.

So today, I want you to hit up the blog and write down one thing that you’re going to do this week that goes against the instincts of your body.

Maybe it will be taking a cold shower. Maybe it will be going a day without food. Maybe it’s walking up the stairs to your office, which was Stephen B’s answer to our first challenge. (Stephen, you’ve got to come up with something else.)

Think of just one thing you can do this week. Declare it to everyone on this blog.

Then do it.

And when you do it, whatever it is, I want you to pause just before you do it and watch for two things.

1. The Whingeing

First, listen to your body’s excuses. Standing on the edge of a cold lake, you might here yourself complain, “It’s too cold, I’m might catch a flu, I’ve just eaten, I look ridiculous in these budgie smugglers.” Sometimes your body is crafty. Sometimes just whingey. But it always pushes back.

But notice how your body sort of has a capacity to over-ride your inner monologue. Notice how your body’s thoughts can be mistaken for your own thoughts, if you’re not watching carefully. Notice how your boldest agendas can be derailed by the worst and whiniest instincts of our body.

This happens to us ALL. THE. TIME.

There is an art to knowing when your mind is raising reasonable objections, and when your body is just being a little wuss bag. It takes time to know the difference.

2. The Loving Command

Second, I want you to force yourself to do whatever it was you were planning to do. Jump into the lake. Get up at 5 a.m. Fast.

(Actually, fasting is great because you are constantly being presented with temptations.)

Whatever it is, assert your authority, assert your control, and just do it.

But as you’re doing it, I want you to hold an attitude of “loving command.”

Don’t go hating on your body. Don’t go screaming at your body, “Shut up you flabby ball of failure. We’re doing this. I’m throwing us in this lake. F-youuuuu!”

No. Hold an attitude of loving command. Say, “I can see you don’t want to jump in this lake. I know that it’s cold. But I want this for us. And I have the reins. I am in control.”

And then do it.

I think an attitude to loving command is the key to having sustainable, heart-centred self-discipline, which in turn is one of the key pillars of success.

So that’s it. That’s the third challenge. Share the act of discipline you’re going to commit to this week right here in the comments section. And then watch for those two things – The Whingeing and The Loving Command.

I really believe it will help you grow a more powerful self-discipline and self-mastery this year.

Power on!

Jon

Ps – Why not rope somebody else into this challenge. Who do you know who could travel the road of mastery with you? Forward them this email and get them on board.

NO B.S.FRIDAY: Such is Life…

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Why do we love bushrangers so much? Are we all just bushrangers too busy with our day jobs?

November 11th was Remembrance Day, but I also noticed it’s the 138th anniversary of Ned Kelly’s death. They hanged our most famous bushranger on November 11, 1880.

I feel like we must be due for another round of bushranger romanticism. Seems to come around every 30 years or so. I mean, it’s been 15 years since the last Ned Kelly movie.

(Update: they’re in the process of making one right now. There you go.)

But why do we love bushrangers so much?

Kelly has more brand recognition than any Australian has ever had, including Don Bradman, well over a century after his death.

And Kelly’s life was hard. He was born into a poor family, took a lot of knocks along the way, before finally going to the gallows at the tender age of 25. Not a lot to envy there.

But we collectively get starry-eyed, and imagine ourselves in an iron suit, both guns blazing.

(Or is that just me?)

Bushrangers were a product of that time, and our romanticism has as much to do with that period in Australian history as it does with them.

I mean, if Ned Kelly were alive today, he’d probably end up on Today Tonight, with a camera man chasing him through the streets of Melbourne. Clank, clank, clank. “Mr Kelly. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

No one is getting misty eyed about car thieves in tracky-daks and sneakers these days.

But still there is something in the archetype of the bushranger that calls to our spirit.

To me, I think the key selling point of brand bush-ranger is ‘rebelliousness’. That’s what elevates them from the muck of humanity’s dregs, into the rarefied air of cultural hero.

But what does that say about us?

Why do we love and celebrate the rebellious? The rule breakers? The trouble makers?

Do we secretly long to cast ourselves in that light – break the rules, trash the law, kick down the doors and leave our name in bullets in the wall?

Are we all just bushrangers, too busy with our day jobs to cause anybody any trouble?

Yes. Yes we are.

The world is repressive. It crushes our freedom, our unique spirits, our playful, child-like natures. It’s just how it is. As we get older, we find the adult world with all its rules and regulations has us all bound up in a straight-jacket.

The question becomes how do we respond?

Do we suffer in silence, taking a photo-copy of our bottoms when the boss isn’t looking in an impotent act of defiance?

(Brian, I know it’s you. Just stop it, ok. It’s unhygienic.)

Or do we go totally off the hook, become a renegade, dying in a rain of bullets and glory?

That’s sexier, but still pretty sad in the end.

Or do we find another way? A third way? Do we find a way to push back the prison walls of the world, and find a way to live on our own terms, with our own money, with our own drive and our own autonomy?

Do we find a way to keep expanding the sphere of our own freedom?

This has been one of the central missions in my life in recent years. Finding that freedom.

Sure, that’s partly about money. Money can buy you many freedoms in life – the freedom to travel, the freedom to follow your own interest, freedom from the stresses of a hand-to-mouth existence.

But it’s also about making it part of my life goals – finding a career that let’s me set my own hours and schedule. Living somewhere that gives me easy access to the things I love doing. Putting energy into my relationships so they are supporting me, rather than holding me back.

But ultimately, it starts with recognising that we are all living in Ned Kelly realities – realities where the system is not set up to maximise our freedom and fulfilment.

This is the first step.

The fight then and must come second.

Such is life.

JG

NO B.S. FRIDAY: Die with this regret… and you’ve won!

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I take a look at some of the guff written on regret. The results will surprise you.

Today, I’m going to give you a glimpse into your future life.

I’m going to show you what lies at the end of your road, and the one thing you will regret, when your number finally comes up.

… I mean, if you’re lucky. Most people die with a thousand regrets. But if you live your life well from this point on, follow my advice, you will take just one, beautiful regret to your grave.

And I know that because it is the same regret that I carry now.

So pay attention. I think this might be about to be the most important blog I’ve written.

(And oh, haven’t I written some doozies!)

Anyway, a lot has been written about regret. There was a story doing the rounds a few years ago about a nurse who worked at a retirement home, who did a study on the things that people regret on their death bed.

I don’t know why we focus so much on that death-bed moment. It’s just like any other really.

I mean, maybe I regret not playing professional ping pong in my twenties. That’s something I might regret on my deathbed. It’s definitely too late do anything about it then.

But it’s also too late to do anything about it now. The window has definitely closed on my professional ping pong career. That horse has well and truly bolted.

The really interesting questions should be what do people regret not doing last year or last month. Regrets fresh enough to actually do something about.

Anyway, contrived scenario aside, this nurse reckons that people always regret the stuff they didn’t do, rather than the stuff they did.

That sounds profound until you think about it.

The stuff we do – that just tends to dissolve into the history of our lives. It just becomes part of who we are.

So maybe you regret selling your Bitcoin in 2010. But then you meet your future wife at a ‘no-coiner’ support group, and so you think it was all for the best.

Life has a way of working out like that. Which is really to say, we have a natural tendency to make the most of things, get on with it, and celebrate what we have.

(There’s even cases of people who have lost limbs in motor accidents who say that they are glad it happened to them.)

The other part of it is that it is very easy to romanticise the road not travelled.

So you think back to that girl you knew when you were 17. You should have kissed her. Why didn’t you kiss her? You fool.

And then you imagine the life that might have been. You imagine yourself falling in love, madly and foreverly. You see yourselves in Paris, eating croissants by the river’s edge. You see yourselves as an old couple, in a motor-home, driving across the Nullarbor into the setting sun.

You see her crouched over your grave, her tears falling on to a single red rose, the sky darkening overhead.

Sigh. What could have been…

But of course this is the romantic version. You don’t imagine her, at 3a.m, feeding the baby, hair electrified, giving you death stares because “YOU ALWAYS WALK TOO LOUD!!” You don’t imagine her at 60, cocking her leg at the breakfast table and letting go with one of her signature farts. You don’t imagine her at 75, pawning all your stuff and moving in with Shane from the bowls club.

You don’t imagine any of this stuff, even though it’s just as likely.

We romanticise the lives we never lead.

And so of course we regret the things we never did. Those things were gateways to these romantic and fantastical lives – lives that are always going to be more magical, more colourful, more wonderful than the ones we are living now.

So of course we regret the stuff we never did.

To a point.

And this is where we start talking about the one regret that I have.

Because I’m someone who opened the door and had a look at what lay beyond all the gateways of regret.

I have lived a life of relative freedom. And I’ve done it all.

When I was a young man, I threw myself into soccer. I gave it everything. I had my tilt at professional sport, and the glory it promised. I did my best. I took my chance. I have no regrets.

As a young man, I also threw myself into the feminie like a box of Whitlam samplers. By the time I found my wife, I was certain there was no one else I wanted to be with. I had found the perfect one for me. And I haven’t regretted a single day of our marriage.

(I can’t vouch for her though – I think she’s already thinking about pawning my stuff).

And I also had my crack at business. I chose not to follow the road of the nine to five and strike out on my own. It was a gamble and it paid off. Some people die not knowing.

I know.

And with that success, I now have freedom that most people only dream about. I can travel the world. I can track down the relatives in Greece. I can take part in bizarre medicine ceremonies in the Congo. I can throw myself out of an airplane over the French Pyrenees.

I can do whatever I want.

And my bucket list is completely cleared out.

So, all good then, hey? No room for regrets right? I’ll die a happy and regret-less man, quietly smiling into my last glass of whiskey..?

Not quite.

Because this is the thing I’ve learnt about having opened every door, having tasted every fruit, having ticked every box I could find:

None of it matters.

Having done everything on my bucket list, I can say that the amount of happiness I drew from each item on that list, is actually kind of minimal.

I mean sky-diving was awesome. It totally was. But knowing what I know now, would I go back to a younger version of myself and say, “You totally have to do this before you die.”

Nah.

And the same goes for everything on there. It was all awesome. It was all good fun. But was any of it “must do before you die” worthy?

Not really.

I mean, I do enjoy knowing that I have done everything I ever wanted to. That’s a nice feeling of completion – a feeling of satisfaction. That’s nice.

But that feeling of completion could have come with any bucket list really. It could have been a shopping list. The individual experiences just didn’t matter.

More and more, my adventuring has brought home that simple truth – happiness is an inside job.

Doing everything on the most epic bucket list in the world won’t make you happy – not if you’re not already primed for happiness from the inside out.

And this is what I regret.

I regret the hunger I brought to everything when I was younger.

I regret those days where I always wanted more. Where I had a great job, but I wanted a better job. Where I had a great girlfriend but I wanted a better girlfriend. Where I had great friends but I wanted better friends.

I brought a hunger to every thing I did, and that hunger always kept my eyes on the horizon, on the hunt for bigger, and better, and more exciting.

And in doing so, I missed out on a lot of life. The life that happens in the moment. The happiness that comes when you are just present to what is, when you are just grateful for what is.

In hindsight, I can see that I lived through countless blessings, through a charmed life full of wonders and beauty, and I was a misery guts for most of it.

My hunger kept me blinded to what I actually had.

And so this is what I regret.

I regret that I spent so many years as a slave to this hunger. I regret that I let so many moments for potential ecstasy and bliss pass me by, simply because I thought bliss was always over the next hill.

And I regret that it took me so long to figure it out. That the energy and the passion and the hormone-driven stamina of youth was wasted on someone who just couldn’t see how good he had it.

This is what I regret. And I’ll carry this regret with me to the day I die.

Funny old thing, life.

And I hope that this regret is the only regret that plagues you on your death bed too. I hope that from this day on, you heed this wisdom, and become present to and grateful for the wonderful gifts you have already.

But I don’t really expect you to.

I mean, I wouldn’t have. I couldn’t have been told. I wouldn’t have listened.

I had to see for myself. I had to taste every fruit in the garden before I could know that fruit was not the key to happiness. No amount of grey-beard wisdom would have helped.

And so if you won’t take my advice, then I wish that this journey will find you too. That you will have the freedom and the resources to chase down every desire, live every dream –tick everything off your own epic bucket list. Leave no stone unturned until you are convinced that happiness is nowhere to be ‘found’.

Perhaps it is the only way.

But however you find it, I hope this one beautiful regret becomes yours too:

I only wish that I had found my freedom sooner.

(… he whispers to the nurse, as she pours him a final whiskey.)

JG

No BS Friday: Why dirty people aren’t rich

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Would it be better to start treating money as a chore?

A few weeks ago I asked a provocative question: why haven’t you got your money situation sorted?

If it doesn’t feel like it’s sorted, then you should really ask yourself why. Your answer will be illuminating. Take a look at your excuses. How many of them are real? How many have relatively simple solutions?

(You might be surprised).

Anyway, I wanted to look at one excuse I get a bit. It goes something like, “I haven’t focused on money because I’ve been living the life I love and doing what I want.”

“What I want” might mean extreme BMX. It might also mean something more righteous, like feeding the homeless or saving the planet. Whatever.

But it’s the idea that I put energy into non-monetary but meaning-rich pursuits, and as a result, I don’t have much money.

There’s nothing really wrong with this, as long as you are genuinely happy with the results, especially the part about being poor.

But I find most people aren’t really all that happy about being poor, actually, once you ask the question.

I also don’t really get the level of analysis – like why we’re even setting money and meaning up as competing pursuits.

The way I see it, taking care of your finances is like taking care of your house – it’s like doing housework.

Very few people derive their life’s meaning from housework. But you very rarely hear people say, “I’ve chosen to spend my time on more meaningful pursuits, and so as a result, I live in squalor.”

No one would really buy that. They would say, “Don’t try and pull that crap on me again Jon. There are some things in life that you just have to do, that are just a basic part of living – they are basic responsibilities that create the foundation from which you can launch more meaningful pursuits. So give your mother a break and pick up your clothes.”

We all need structures that support us in life. Money is one of those structures. It’s not the only structure, but if you’re not going with money, you still need to go with something.

So taking care of your finances is as basic as taking out the garbage.

The other thing with it is that money is just one of many essential things we need to get by in the modern world. But it’s the only one that has the meaning razor applied to it.

For example, money is an energy that helps me do what I need to do.

So is food.

But I don’t spend time worrying about whether my eating habits are increasing the amount of meaning and happiness in my life.

And so a statement like, “I’ve decided to focus on the things that make me happy, so I’m spending less time making money” sounds like it makes sense. You might even get a pat on the back for being so righteous and wise.

But if it’s true then a statement like, “I’ve decided to focus on the things that make me happy, so I’m spending less time eating” should be equally true. But it’s not. You sound ridiculous.

And so giving less time to your money, to me, makes about as much sense as giving less time to eating, household chores, personal hygiene, and time spent in traffic.

Some things you just have to do.

Of course there is a sweet spot to be found. If you spent all of your day in the shower grooming yourself, you’re life would be pretty shallow. Likewise, if you spent all your time working and chasing money, you are also wasting your life.

But I think the solution is to see your finances as a sort of ‘cost of doing business’. As rent on planet earth. Time spent there is just a necessary expense.

The flip side of that is that money is not an end in itself. It’s like electricity. The wise person stays focused on what they’re going to do with the power they have, not the power itself.

And that’s all not to say that you should stay in a job that makes you miserable. There are better ways to earn money – methods that are better suited to your personality – just as there are nicer things to eat, better vacuums to use, more efficient ways to commute to work.

It’s worth spending the time finding the systems that work for you.

But don’t think you’re winning any righteous points by shirking your chores.

Pull the finger out and just get it done.

What every salesman hopes you don’t know

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Memory isn’t linear, and people might use that to their advantage.

Ok, imagine you work in a clothes shop.

A man walks in and says he wants to buy a suit and some shirts.

What do you do? Do you take him to the suits section first, or the shirts?

If you’re like most people, you start with the shirts.

You figure you’ll warm him up. Get a few smaller purchases on the board before going over to check out the more expensive suits.

… slowly pry open his wallet, in a gentle way.

But this is where you, and most people, would be wrong.

Professional sales people start with the suit and then go to the shirts after.

The reason is something psychologists call the ‘comparison effect’. It’s a kind of bias.

The idea is that human memory isn’t consistent. It’s not a linear thing. The more recent an event is, the more it stands out in our memory.

Kind of think of it like driving a car through the desert, looking in the rear view mirror. From that perspective, a billboard you just passed looks much bigger than a billboard you passed 10 minutes ago, even though they’re actually the same size in real life.

The brain and memory work the same way. More recent experiences seem much more relevant, even though they’re not really.

And so a professional sales person who knows this will take our man to the suits section first.

After he’s just dropped $1,000 on a new suit, if then he goes and looks at a shirt that’s $100, it’s going to look cheap.

It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t really make sense to compare the price of a suit to the price of a shirt. That’s a tad too complex for our brains.

All our brains know is that $100 is a lot less than $1,000, so $100 is cheap.

Of course it works in reverse too. If you took him to the shirts first, he’s comparing $100 against what he might expect to pay for a shirt. Maybe it’s about right.

But then take him over to the suits, and if he’s just um’d and ah’d about dropping $100, to suddenly face a price tag $1,000 is going to be a little scary.

This is one of the basic tools of persuasion and negotiation – be conscious of or consciously use the comparison effect.

For example, you’re a builder quoting for some work. There’s some expensive structural work, and new kitchen, and then some guttering work. Go high to low. Start expensive and go from there.

Or watch for it when people are trying to sell you something. Notice if they start with the full suite deluxe version, before offering you something more reasonably priced.

Of course, we’re not just talking about price. It goes for all comparisons. Walk into a used car lot and they might show you a real dud of a car. Anything you look at after that is going to look awesome.

And be aware of it in yourself. Even if you know about this effect, it doesn’t make you immune to it.

We’re running some fairly basic software here.

But watch for it this week. I guarantee you’ll see one ad, one sales pitch, or somebody using this technique.

Persuasion 101.

OPE – Manipulation vs Persuasion

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Leveraging OPE (other people’s energy) for fame and fortune – are you manipulative?

What’s the difference between manipulation and persuasion?

Someone was asking me this the other day. And I had to pause and take stock.

It’s true a lot of the techniques are the same. And the game is the same – take a meat-bag of emotions and bring it around to a particular idea.

So did I just persuade you to go into a joint-venture with me? Or did I manipulate you?

The line’s not clear.

Like a lot of things in life, I think you know manipulation when you see it. Like what’s the difference between porn and erotica? You know it when you see it.

That’s not entirely satisfying. It still leaves a lot up to subjective interpretation. One man’s porn is another man’s room full of Roman cos-play enthusiasts enjoying their birth-right to embodied joy and bliss.

So I think it comes back to intention.

When you engage the techniques of persuasion, what are you trying to do?

Are you trying to convince someone to do something that you believe is against their own interests? That’s manipulation.

Are you helping them to see how the outcome you’re presenting is actually awesome for them too? Then that’s persuasion.

So if you’re trying to get someone to shell out a small fortune for a lemon of a car – that’s manipulation. Trying to convince them to buy your product, rather than your competitors, because you genuinely believe its superior value-for-money? Persuasion.

This is one area where sales theory is actually pretty well advanced.

I think good businesses know that their product isn’t for everyone. They’re upfront about it, and they actually invest a good chunk of their marketing to find the ‘right’ customers, not just ‘any’ customers.

And from there, their sales techniques come from a place where you genuinely believe your product is a great product and a great fit for your client's needs.

You’re not trying to ‘con’ them into a sale. You just trying to help them see the situation the same way you do.

Call it the difference between manipulative sales and persuasive sales.

The interesting thing is that persuasive sales is so much easier. You’re just speaking your truth. You’re genuinely interested in finding common ground, and you have a genuine interest in your client’s success.

Anyone can be trained up in this kind of sales technique.

Manipulative sales on the other hand is a real art. It takes a lot of skill to engage with someone for a decent length of time, and not set off their BS trip-wires.

You’ve got to hide what you really think from them. That involves creating a façade – a construct.

(The best I’ve seen do a process of self-deception first – where they convince themselves that its good for the client, and then let themselves sell from there.)

But it’s hard. It’s not for everybody. It’s not something you can teach anyone.

And so look, if you can, be persuasive, not manipulative.

You get a better outcome and it’s just so much easier.

JG

Fancy Language Equals Fuzzy Communication

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A few years ago someone got me a bottle of ouzo for a present.

The bottle shop they went to only had one brand – Akroplis Oyzo – written in greek looking letters, and with some stereotypically Greek designs on it.

To me, it’s kind of funny. I mean, the Acropolis is one of the most famous tourist landmarks in Greece. It’s selfie-central.

So calling something Greek “Akropolis Oyzo” is a bit like calling something Australian “Sydney Harbour Bridge Beer”.

To an Australian, it sounds ridiculous. But there’s probably someone in Russia who thinks that sounds authentic and alluring.

From a creative perspective, it’s incredibly lame. It says you spent about 15 minutes on it with your marketing department and then went for lunch.

But here’s the thing – it works.

Just as most Aussies would buy Akropolis Oyzo without giving it a second thought, so would many Lativians chug down a nice cold schooner of SHB beer.

Why? Because they’re not overthinking it. They’re not throwing a critical eye over it because pfffft, who can be bothered?

As leaders, I think we can often overestimate our audience. And not overestimate their intelligence. I’m not saying they’re stupid. I’m saying we can overestimate how critical they are going to be in any given moment.

It’s like, you might spend hours crafting the perfect email, striking the right balance of flair and efficiency. Clear and to the point, yet warm and familiar.

And the person reading it gives it 5 seconds before forwarding it on to the relevant person with “plse send jon this stuff. ta.”

When we’re deep in something, especially something we’re creating, we can make the mistake of assuming that everyone is as deep in it as we are, as invested in it as we are.

That is rarely the case.

The master of this is actually Donald Trump. Remember when some professor analysed his language use and found it was set at a grade four level?

Everyone laughed at him and ridiculed his intellect.

But literally, no one had noticed up until that point. Why? Because no one was watching the words he was using. They were just focused on the meaning.

And his meaning, always, was very clear.

I think that’s probably because he’s a product of corporate culture.

Power comes through effectiveness – through getting things done. The best way to get stuff done is be very clear with the people doing stuff for you.

Dumb it right down, make it crystal clear, don’t leave any gaps for ambiguity.

Get your requests focused and bite-sized. Don’t trust people’s attention spans an inch.

Trump talks to the people the way he probably talks to his employees. It’s not an accident.

So be wary of any feeling within yourself that’s telling you that you should use fancy words or complicated concepts to IMPRESS your reader.

As soon as you’re trying to impress, you’ve lost it.

Ideally, you want your reader to think that you’re a boring writer, but always very clear.

In every mode of communication, don’t overshoot the mark.