The Art of Not Obsessing Over Tiny Predictors
In graduate school, the psychologist and writer Adam Mastroianni signed up for a “professional development seminar.” Once a week, the group would convene for 90 minutes of discussions on how to set themselves up for professional success. The topics, it turned out, were mostly the kind Mastroianni came to call “tiny predictors”—things that appear important but are actually, ultimately, inconsequential. One week, they argued for the bulk of the 90 minutes about the optimal way to format a CV, in particular: should you print your name in bold? Some people argued that bolding your name helps you stand out when a time-pressed hiring manager is skimming through a stack of applications. Others countered that bolding your name looks desperate and presumptuous. “A debate ensued,” Mastroianni writes. “I forget who won—oh yes, it was none of us because this is a stupid thing to care about. This is obsessing over tiny predictors. It’s scary to admit that you can’t control the future; it’s a lot easier to distract yourself by trying to optimize every decision, no matter how insignificant.” Parents bent on their kids getting into a certain college, job seekers agonizing over the design of their resumes, writers fussing over note-taking tools, storytelling tricks, and marketing tactics—such people “have perfected,” Mastroianni continues, “the art of obsessing over tiny predictors.”
The art of not obsessing over tiny predictors—that’s the theme of this SIX at 6…
The Predictor Of A Good or Bad Meal
One reason it’s easy to fall into the trap of obsessing over tiny predictors is that large predictors often appear to be tiny and inconsequential. The world famous chef Heston Blumenthal was once asked, what are the indicators of a great chef? When you sit down at a restaurant, what are the predictors of whether it will be a good meal or a bad meal?Blumenthal’s answer had nothing to do with the size of the restaurant or its location. It wasn’t about the menu, the décor, or the prices. He didn’t mention Michelin stars, Yelp reviews, or social media followers. He said one word: “Butter.” Butter? “Yes,” he replied. “Butter is an indicator of whether or not the chef has ever eaten in his own restaurant.” If the butter arrives at the table, and it’s hard enough that you tear the bread as you try to spread it, it signals that the chef has never eaten in his own restaurant. And if the chef has never eaten in his own restaurant, the food must not be very good. If, on the other hand, the butter arrives soft and spreadable, pleasantly gliding across the bread, you are predictably in for a great meal. (File next to: Spoons, A Small But So-Obvious Detail)
It’s Like Asking Me If You Should Get A Tattoo
In a Q&A following a clinic John Mayer taught at the Berklee College of Music, a musician asked for advice. She had recently finished her first album, she explained, and was preparing a marketing campaign to try to get the music out there. She’d been doing the obvious things, she said: networking with other musicians, posting on social media, reaching out to influencers, hustling for press coverage, et cetera. “Besides the obvious stuff,” she asked, “what have you found to be very, very helpful to market your music and get exposure and get it out there?” Mayer raised the microphone towards his mouth, pausing to let her finish listing the social media platforms she’s active on. “Good songs,” he finally said. “Good songs?” she asked. “Good songs,” he repeated. “That’s it. That’s it. Good songs. I promise. A good song. Not songs that have all of the technical body parts. I mean good songs…It’s like asking me if you should get a tattoo. Well, is it a good tattoo? How good is the product? That’s all that matters.” A marketing campaign can be helpful, of course. But ultimately, things spread by word of mouth. And no one has ever spread the word going, “The product [the album, book, food, movie, or tattoo] isn’t very good, but the marketing campaign was really well done.”
Excellent Websites, Shiny Business Cards, And Impeccable Head Shots
Jerrod Carmichael has excelled across a range of creative fields—from stand-up comedy and acting to creating sitcoms and directing feature films. Asked if he’s noticed any common mistakes people make when they struggle in those fields, Carmichael said, “They focus on the wrong things. There are a lot of aspiring comedians, for example, who aren’t funny or don’t have stage presence, but they have excellent websites. They have excellent websites and the shiniest business cards and their head shots are impeccable. And who gives a fuck about those things? You know what I mean? They focus on the wrong things.” As for the people who excel—they do things differently: “They focus on the work. I think that’s all it is: they focus on the work. On the content. On creating something of substance.”
What People Don’t Know
When she was 13 years old, after she clarified her goal of one day breaking the 200 Meter Butterfly world record, Mary T. Meagher made two tiny changes to her routine. First, she committed to never arriving late to a practice. Second, she decided that during every practice, she would make every turn as if it were an Olympic race. Where most swimmers allow themselves to swim more casually in practice than in competition, Meagher didn’t. This, she said, habituated her to being a little bit better than those around her. On any given day, these two changes would have little to no noticeable impact. They were so tiny, so subtle, that an outside observer wouldn’t even notice them. We can imagine there were days where Meagher herself felt the frustration of putting in work that doesn’t immediately pay off. But over time, being a little bit better day after day, those tiny changes made a large difference. In 1981, at the age of 17, Meagher had one of the great performances in competitive swimming history: at the U.S. Swimming National Championships, she set world records in both the 100- and 200-Meter butterfly. At the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles, still just 19, she took gold in both the 100m and 200m butterfly. She also swam the butterfly leg of the women’s 4x100m medley, earning a third gold medal. In addition to her three Olympic golds, Meagher won two gold medals at the World Championships (and nine World Championship medals in total) and was crowned U.S. champion 24 times. She is widely regarded as the greatest female butterfly specialist of all time, affectionately nicknamed “Madame Butterfly.” After her extraordinary career, Meagher was asked what the public least understands about what it takes to achieve greatness. “People don’t know how ordinary success is,” she replied. We obsess over tiny predictors instead.
Advice Nobody Ever Takes
“Despite a lack of natural ability,” Steve Martin writes in Born Standing Up, he would go on to put together one of the most decorated careers in the history of entertainment—five Grammy Awards, an Emmy, multiple Lifetime Achievement Awards, an Honorary Oscar, and on and on. Once, during a talk, someone in the audience asked him how to become successful. “You have to become undeniably good at something,” he said. “Nobody ever takes my advice, because it’s not the answer they wanted to hear. What they want to hear is: here’s how you get an agent, here’s how you write a script, here’s how you do this, here’s how you do that.” But those things are tiny predictors. “So I always say, ‘Be so good they can’t ignore you.’ If you are just always thinking, ‘How can I be really good?’—people will come to you.”