Even in truly tough times and horrible market segments, there are winners and strong companies. You have to play the hand you’re dealt, and you have to play it well. If anything is happening to you more than two times out of ten, it’s you, not them.

With high interest rates, houses are still being sold. With food being expensive, people are still dining out. But you can’t expect yesterday’s ideas to thrill people about tomorrow. Nor can you tap dance on hot coals, in sweat tents, or with rah-rah speakers.

You have to show people that you have ideas for tomorrow, anticipating change, not answers to past problems. Don’t create false narratives that drive your approaches, e.g., “I can help you cut expenses” or “We need to lower our expectations.”

Don’t allow your prospects’ fear to scare you or infect your thinking.

The Titanic was a bad idea: mistaken design, insufficient lifeboats, and a poor route. FedEx was a great idea: postal service weakness, hub and spoke, “guarantees.” We are accountable. Not the fates or the winds or the tides or technology or society. Endure the brief pain of trying new approaches and innovating, or you’ll face the long-term pain of inevitable decline.

If you win a race by .001 seconds, have you really “won.”? And certainly, you’re not the “best in the world.” On that day, in that place, at that time, you finished barely ahead of the next person. What if you did it again an hour later?

Of course, if you constantly and consistently win, you might be the best in the world or the best ever: Yankees, Celtics, Tom Brady, Rocky Marciano, Serena Williams, Jack Nicklaus. In subjective judging, it’s really a joke. Those that are the best also get the most benefit in the scoring. Brady threw touchdowns, or he didn’t. But the ice skaters, divers, gymnasts, surfers—those with the best records get the best treatment.

Then again, there’s the doping and the cheating. The Chinese escaped disqualifications for doping by claiming they consumed “tainted meat.” I wonder who slipped them that? By the way, if the Olympics are about simply the fastest, strongest, etc., why keep medal counts and raise national flags to national anthems?

What about the bad calls and missed calls from officials? Is break-dancing a sport? Isn’t there a practical requirement historically, such as in archery, fencing, judo, or running? Even the pommel horse was used originally to teach mounting and dismounting. 

If break-dancing is a sport, why isn’t ballroom dancing, which has its own competitions globally and requires superb coordination, training, balance, and teamwork? I was at a Four Seasons where, early in the morning, there was a bed-making and floor-vacuuming competition. Why isn’t that an Olympic event? It’s a highly coordinated skill done billions of times a day worldwide?

Tennis players are athletes. I don’t think golfers are, nor are race car drivers. They are certainly skilled and adept, but so are woodworkers and chess players. I understand the ambiguity of X and Y chromosomes and uncertain genitalia. However, I also know that women’s athletics and Title 9 were not intended for average male athletes to be stars in another venue.

When you “eclipse” someone’s record, does it really count if you’re using vastly improved equipment, medical support, and venues? Hasn’t fiberglass improved vaulting over wood and bamboo? With modern sports medicine, Sandy Koufax would have had another six unsurpassed years. Brady couldn’t have played into his 40s. We’re a country of 330 million people, and it seems to me that the Australians, with 30 million, eat our lunch in the pool. And they’re not as insufferable as we are with the constant chants of USA, USA. (I do chant myself against the Russians and the Chinese.) 

Finally, I don’t know about you, but the juxtaposition of athletes not supported by anything substantial and working with little money and not the greatest support at home, and the kibillionaire professional US basketball players, marching in the same parade and winning the same medals, well, come on….

The Olympics sparked several replays of an Australian swimmer, Cate Campbell, being interviewed on what I think was an Australian TV news show. In a prior competition, she had beaten out the Americans for the gold medal. The interviewer asked her what it was like. 

She ranted on about how glorious it was because she detested the Americans using a cowbell to motivate the team and hated the chant of the fans, “USA, USA, USA,” which she mimicked in a sarcastic tone.

Let me repeat: her team won. She was a sore winner.

If you’re a world-class athlete and you can’t take the pressure of people rooting against you in favor of their teams or motivational techniques used to un-nerve the opposition, maybe you have some serious esteem problems. If you don’t want to endure the pressure of the limelight, don’t walk into it.

I’ve been to Australia 19 times, I have friends and clients there, and I find Australians to be “in touch,” personable, and have a great sense of humor. It’s when we take ourselves too seriously when we feel we shouldn’t have to be subjected to boisterous fans, that our fragile egos are exposed.

The same day the interview was first aired, the Australian women won the 4X100 meter relay, and the American men won their 4X100 meter relay. The Australians and Americans at the pool congratulated each other in good sportsmanship.

So here’s to you Cate: Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong…..

You’ve known wowsers. They’re always trying to be the “second smartest person in the room,” and they correct you even though you’re correct to begin with.

They are official “killjoys.” They are critical of others’ pleasures and accomplishments. Lacking expertise doesn’t inhibit their critiques and corrections. They never converse; they lecture as perpetual professors. They’re distraught if they think someone else is having a better time than they are (and most people are).

Wowsers are dismissive according to their own biased criteria. “You smoke cigars, so you don’t make good life choices, so your opinion on the climate is flawed.” For them, everything they do is the best, no matter what: The trip was the most thrilling, the play was the most sensational, the restaurant was seven stars, and the restroom was the cleanest.

They announce awards and honorifics no matter how transparently unimportant they are. “I’ve been named as most likely to write my first book within four years in my zip code.”

Knowing next to nothing, they are cynical and cite memes and fragments of others’ expertise: “Well, consider the ‘establishment clause,’” “They might invoke the 27th Amendment….” These are the people who scream, “Get in the hole!” after every golf shot and call into the tournament if they spot a violation on TV.

They call people over to the bar to have drinks and then disappear before the bill arrives. You know who I’m talking about.

People may think of a "Grand Challenge" as an exceptionally worthy and difficult problem to solve, and they'd be right. But it's also representative of a more formalized and impressive approach to what appear to be intractable societal issues.

Seth Kahan specializes in these, his most recent being to remove stigma in mental health issues. This involves a farrago of interested parties, from television writers who want to depict the issue realistically and correctly to pharmaceutical companies which seek to develop the proper medications and police departments which need proper responses.

These challenges can be about education reform, immigration reform, climate safeguarding, reproductive rights, and other such vast issues. They tend to be nonpartisan. The correct approach to mental health issues, for example, benefits a wide range of society, from treatment to facilities, from crime deterrence to cures.

Learn where the funding comes from, how varied organizations become involved, and the timing needed for these initiatives to make a difference while successful along the way—sometimes 20 years or more. 

And looking back, from women's rights to civil rights, such movements have existed, being formed out of necessity. We also discuss great leaders (Lincoln, the Roosevelts, Churchill) who were successful because they purposely created these Grand Challenges—not just to improve civilization, but to save it.

My wife wasn't feeling well, so I went out to eat at 5:30 and brought her something back. When I do that, I bring my iPad and read a book at the bar.

I finished, the takeout arrived in a shopping bag, and I drove home. At 10 pm I thought I'd play some Angry Birds before going to bed but realized my iPad was gone. I used "Find My iPhone" to determine that it was still in the restaurant. Although after hours, they answered the phone. 

"We have it right here," said a manager, after a brief search, "come around to the door by the bar, it's open. We're cleaning up."

They were cleaning up, and the same bartender from five hours earlier came out and handed me the iPad. We chatted, I thanked him, drove home (and played Angry Birds).

That's the way it's supposed to work, right? Friendly people, honesty, using technology as a help to solve something.

Yet we keep valuables locked in hotel safes, we're careful about where we keep our wallets or carry our purses, and some stores don't accept any cash larger than a twenty-dollar bill. Shoplifting is one of the major expenses for retail stores. We're advised to use a complex password on our smart phones because thieves are stealing them, cracking simple codes, and cleaning out bank accounts.

It's a shame when once-common acts of honesty and courtesy stand out because they're exceptions to our expectations and no longer the rule.

I recorded and wrote this prior to the presidential debate. When I couldn’t publish it before the debates, I was going to abandon it. But in view of what occurred, I’m publishing the recording and show notes now.

In the upcoming debates, no notes will be allowed, and the moderators can mute the microphones. Moderators have had undue influence on past debates, becoming the inappropriate centers of attention. Think Meghan Kelly. It will be even easier now.

One of the candidates is 78, and the other is 81. One has no vice presidential nominee as yet, and the other appears to be continuing with Kamala Harris, who was chosen originally solely because of her identity and her ability to gather votes to beat Trump. She has failed at every major initiative given to her since then.

Trump often digresses into blather. Biden often falls victim to confabulation, where things he’s invented to fill memory losses become real to him. He was not at the top of his law school class, despite his claims that he was, but was 74th of 85 students and failed one course, having been found guilty of plagiarism. Trump degenerates into crazed diversions, at one point talking about being electrocuted when his teleprompter failed.

This is an age of threat from China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran. Are these two guys (and Kamala Harris) able to handle the simultaneous anti-US maneuvers of these leaders of this evil axis?

Neither of these two guys would be acceptable as the CEO of a major organization, not to the search firms, not to the governing committees, not to the boards.

Is this the best we can do in this great country? These two guys?

Of course not.

The only way to “coast” is when you’re going downhill. Even on a plateau, you have to pedal to keep moving. However, there is a way to “coast uphill.”

To succeed, businesses must keep growing. And to keep growing, they must innovate. No business can grow simply by solving problems and “fixing” things (or, worse, blaming people). Problem-solving keeps you afloat, but it doesn’t raise the water level or get you into a boat.

There are three kinds of innovation, and we speak in this session about what they are, why they are important, and who exemplifies them. As social proof, we discuss avatars in these areas, from the Wright Brothers to Fred Smith and Jeff Bezos.

Innovation is not the result of “skunk works,” outdoor experiences, or building sand castles. It is the result of a constant focus on improvement, finding promoting actions to enable it, and exploitative actions to capitalize on it.

There was only running, no passing in football, until someone decided to try throwing the ball. The high jump was a standard competition with inches of difference until Dick Fosbury decided to jump over the bar head and back first, which everyone now does at much higher levels. How much more exciting is basketball with the advent of the three-point line?

Schumpeter called innovation “creative destruction.” And I call it “applied creativity.” Learn why herein.

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

No, they don’t. The advent of the automobile around 1895 did not engender a huge equine genocide. We use horses today: for work, for recreation, for crowd control, for sport.

Hence, the internal combustion engine is not disappearing in your lifetime, despite stupid political statements such as the recent “all cars must achieve 65 miles-per-gallon by 2031.” (Let’s also pass a resolution that there needs to be world peace by November. That should take care of that, right?)

I listen to Vivaldi, Sinatra, Lady Gaga, Billy Joel. In my business, I accept credit cards, checks, and wire transfers. I choose not to use Venmo or PayPal because their service is dreadful. It’s hilarious to listen to the pseudo-snobs who prelatically inform me that they haven’t used checks in ages. And they only use Tik Tok via Instagram, and insist on a text before receiving a phone call. I imagine in their spare time, they’re shooting horses.

I can drive an automatic transmission and a seven-speed manual (which is why I can leave my Corvette unlocked with the keys in it because no one is skilled enough today to steal it and drive it off). 

We need to live with many choices; newer ones don’t necessarily replace older ones completely, and the situation, the moment, and our behavioral predispositions often determine what’s best, not normative pressure.

An electronic car future for everyone? Look out for my horse!!

Our 60th High School Reunion

On the way to the reunion

We’re on Amtrak on our way to our 60th high school reunion: Emerson High School, Union City, NJ. It was then and is now the most densely populated city in the country. Emerson is now a middle school, but back then it was one of two full-fledged high schools with all sports, and dances and typical teenage angst. We had about 200+ in the class. About 30 of the original class will be at the reunion, along with spouses and assorted hangers-on.

Two of the teachers with whom we’re still in touch were able to be at the 55th, but not this one. They’re both in their 90s and one is quite active on Facebook. He’s told me he reads my books.

I do have one lifelong friend, Robert Borghi, whom I’ve known since kindergarten. He used to put a nickel a week away to someday buy a helicopter and a ranch. He does, today, have a pilot’s license. At the last reunion, a woman walked up to talk to me as if we had been speaking continually. I could not place her. As I leaned to the right to see her name tag without appearing to stare at her breast, I was stunned to see she had been my steady girlfriend in the 6th and 7th grades.

At past reunions, held every five years, some people unfortunately passed away in the weeks before the events. I’m just hoping no one passes away AT this event! In other words, we need the same numbers departing as arriving.

After the reunion

We left with the same number that arrived. Unfortunately, Robert Borghi couldn’t make it because he’s having surgery in the next few days. Our table did win the school trivia contest, but I was shocked when one of the questions was, “Who coached the girls’ bowling team?” We had a girls’ bowling team??!!

Some people were in remarkably good shape. Some were not. Some were seriously disabled. Out of a class of slightly over 200 we had 31 people (plus partners) all between 77 and 79. The average life expectancy in the US is 78 for men and 80 for women, but once you reach those ages you get another 7-9 years! One man whom I knew casually in school approached me to tell me he reads my books and newsletters and wanted to know what I was going to do next.

We end by singing the alma mater. These things are always bittersweet.