Figuring out the right levers
Sometimes we get confused about leverage. We think that an effort we’re making will have a big effect, when in fact it turns out to have very little. Meanwhile, we miss the opportunity to apply force where the leverage will be maximal. You might say that we misjudge which lever to use in any given situation, or which fulcrum point to engage. This happens in personal and professional life alike, and I think we’re susceptible at any age—though I’d like to think we screw it up less often as we learn from experience.
Consider this example. You’re a college kid with a big test in the morning, and it’s getting late. You have the option to stay up late and cram in a couple more hours of studying…thinking this course of action will create leverage through boosted knowledge, and therefore have a big positive impact on your success with the test. The reality is, though, that given how exhausted you already are, the return-on-investment of studying is likely to be quite low. Considerable effort in, small result out.
Meanwhile, there’s actually another lever at work—and this one’s creating a negative effect. It’s the fulcrum of exhaustion. So as you apply the ‘studying force’, you’re actually creating a huge upswing in exhaustion, which is going to decimate your performance on the test. So it’s a case of misjudging the value of a particular lever—you might say overestimating the upside—while under-appreciating the downsides. If you’d chosen the lever of getting more sleep, the effect would be the opposite. The outsized benefit of adequate rest would greatly outweigh the marginal advantage of cramming a little more knowledge.
I think we do this most often when we fail to recognize the extraordinary opportunity of seemingly ordinary moments. Picture a father imagining he’s going to bond with his kids most effectively during a special occasion, like an extravagant vacation. He thinks this will be a major leverage point when it comes to strengthening his relationships with his kids. And it’s possible it may be. But at the same time—as he’s cranking out those twelve-hour workdays to afford the big trip—he misses the dozens of opportunities that present themselves in the quieter, simpler rhythms of everyday life. The opportunity to throw a ball or go for a bike ride or go fishing or read a book together. Amidst these there might have been a particular kairos moment; i.e., an ‘opportune’ time, to lean on a Greek principle amidst all the Homeric conversation these days. The dad thinks the extravagant vacation presents an ideal fulcrum with maximal leverage, but maybe he would have had deeper moments playing ball in the backyard.
I think we all miss these opportunities for ROI for any number of reasons. Maybe they’re hiding in plain sight. Maybe they just aren’t that exciting. Maybe (often, I think) they require us to have more discipline and patience than we feel like exercising at different stages of life. I think you could liken it to the discipline needed for long-term retirement savings. It’s hard to convince a young professional right out of college to maximize that 401(k) contribution. Even if the kid understands the math, the effect of the leverage just feels so damn far away. The reality is, it’ll never be closer. The effect of compounding interest is at its most powerful if he or she puts the money away now.
But it’s simpler stuff that presents our daily leverage opportunities. A straightforward example comes to mind courtesy of Dale Carnegie in his 1936 classic How to Win Friends and Influence People. One of the strongest sections is about the outsized power of offering a simple smile. Very little effort; major leverage. A smile can change the entire tenor of an interaction. Carnegie points out that sometimes the people we see every day are the one’s we’re least likely to grace with a smile. These are missed ‘opportune moments’ in daily life.
It’s worth reflecting on our tendencies to misjudge opportunities for leverage. The mentoring work I’ve done as a teacher and through the Camino Institute suggests that early adulthood is a particularly intense gauntlet in terms of figuring this stuff out the hard way. Young adults are just old enough to have accrued enough life experience to feel the pain of misplaced leverage as it compounds over time, but not old enough yet for it to have compounded too much—thereby (hopefully) leaving plenty of time for prudent readjustment. That’s why I’d really encourage reflection on this among the mid-twenties set, but I think it’s fertile ground for reflection at any age. I can assure you that it remains so for me at forty-seven—and I imagine it will stay that way.