Give me a chance, and I’ll make it worth your while.
There’s a good chance we’re familiar with this line.
After all, opportunities are critical components of life. And earning opportunities requires us to cede some control.
If we’re not born into royalty or extreme wealth, our destiny isn’t handed to us on a silver platter.
Sure, our parents and our advocates in the community will put us in position to succeed — if we’re lucky. Yet, the keys to the most impactful opportunities in our lives often lie in the hands of others.
They require a leap of faith by someone newer to our narrative. Someone weighing the balance of hitching their success to ours — often without a longstanding connection with us preceding their decision.
When we ask someone out, when we pursue college or graduate school, when we apply for a job — we’re putting the fate of life changing decisions in the hands of someone new. We’re providing our flight plan to a distant acquaintance and praying that we’ll be cleared for takeoff.
Many times, we’ll get approval. Other times, we’ll be rebuffed.
Either way, our fate is not fully in our hands. We need a leap of faith to open the gate to the next adventure.
There is no such thing as the Self-Made Man. If we’re working for the man, we need an advocate who offers the employment agreement. If we’re trying to be the man — and working for ourselves — we won’t get far without the faith of consumers in our business.
After all, it’s hard to pay the bills when there’s no money coming in.
And if we’re looking for the love of our life? Well, it’s best if the person we seek finds the same quality in us. Otherwise, happily ever after for one might be a living nightmare for another.
Yes, our destiny relies on others to give us a chance. Even when familiarity is lacking.
Getting past this hurdle requires both bravado and humility. We must make the case that we’re worth choosing. We must also reconcile with the fact that we might not be chosen.
I believe this process makes us better.
I, for one, don’t believe I’d be the man I am today if the world simply rolled out the red carpet for me.
At each twist and turn of my journey, there was someone who gave me a chance.
The decision to give me a shot could not have been easy for these individuals. It was a choice peppered with risk.
But these brave men and women pushed forward anyway. They provided me the chance to go to college and graduate school. They gave me an income and a foothold in two disparate careers.
I would, quite literally, not be where I am right now if even one of those opportunities had not been granted to me.
I’m continually grateful for the chances I’ve been given. For those who put their faith in me when it wasn’t necessarily the logical decision to make. It’s something I will not forget.
Yet, while I believe this Leap of Faith system generally works — as I’ve seen it work in my own life — I’ve come to recognize it has a significant blind spot.
I call it The Unknown Paradox.
The Unknown Paradox shows up when someone seeks a 180 degree turn in their life trajectory. When they seek to jump in the deep end of the pool to reboot their narrative.
It shows up when the playboy bachelor decides to settle down and get serious. Or when the Wall Street hotshot aspires to leave the hedge fund behind to become a chef.
These changes are the fodder our favorite literature and movies are made of. They’re the embodiment of freedom of destiny. They’re encapsulations of the American dream.
Yet, in practice, they’re often an exercise in futility.
For the leap of faith needed to continue the metamorphosis is all too often lacking. No one is willing to give the person a chance to prove themselves.
The career-shifter, the reformed person — they’re too much of an unknown.
They’re a potato fresh out of the oven. Too hot to touch.
I experienced this firsthand when I left the news media.
While working in the news, I had seen several colleagues transition from journalists to corporate communications and media relations roles. So, as I prepared to make a career shift, I pursued these jobs doggedly.
I set my sights on Dallas, which had far more companies with open job positions than the cities in West Texas did. I applied to a couple of positions each day, before heading to the TV station for my shift.
At first, I scored a few phone interviews. But the interviewers seemed to consider me more of an anomaly than a legitimate candidate.
Soon, the interview opportunities dried up. Then, my apartment lease ran out, and I ended up relocating to an extended stay hotel in Fort Worth without a job lined up.
Over the next three months, I proceeded to burn up my savings and max out my credit card as I searched for that elusive opportunity. The situation got so dire that I was applying for Administrative Assistant jobs when I finally landed a full-time job.
That job was in digital marketing — something I had less experience with than the communication roles I’d been applying for. Yet, my former boss saw fit to offer me an opportunity back then, and I ran with it.
I’ve since evolved into an experienced marketer, and I continue to work at growing my knowledge of the craft.
But even though my story ended favorably, I can’t shake the memories of my difficult career transition. In particular, a question from those harrowing days continues to haunt me.
Why were so many so afraid to give me a shot?
Was I expected to be a prisoner to my resume? Was my career path anchored by my college major? Did my decision to switch roles paint me as unmotivated or unreliable?
It’s impossible to know for sure. But based off of what I experienced, I’d have to believe the answer was Yes. Or at least Maybe.
And many others stuck in The Unknown Paradox would likely say the same.
This is both ironic and problematic.
Our eligibility for opportunities should not rest on our initial choice of career path. We make those decisions when we’re teenagers — lacking in maturity, adult experience and real-world decision making expertise.
We rarely get it right the first time. Often, it’s because of that wayward experience that we gain the skills needed to get it right the second time.
Yet, gaining that second opportunity is exceedingly difficult when we’re banished to the penalty box for being off the mark with our initial career choice.
This confounding Catch-22 is bad enough. But The Unknown Paradox also sends the message that grit and initiative have little real-world value.
It’s a message that’s as confounding as it is demoralizing.
Those seeking the opportunity to make a change are likely the most motivated to bust tail if given a chance to begin anew. Freezing them out is shortsighted and counterproductive.
And, of course, this all taps into another conundrum: Gatekeepers demanding experience from opportunity-seekers without providing the opportunity to obtain said experience.
Add it all up, and the Unknown Paradox closes doors to more opportunities than risks. It’s a net negative.
It’s time to end this wasteful cycle.
It’s time to stop demanding tried and true. And to embrace energized and new in its place.
For the current system isn’t working the way we intended.
The safe bets, the reliable choices — they can end up far from extraordinary. Those great skillsets and track records can all too often disintegrate into a pool of apathy.
And the more we hitch ourselves to this decision-making model, the further our society is pulled into the quicksand of lethargy.
We need a boost. A shock to our collective system to drag us away from the abyss.
This jolt lies within those who have the courage to change. With those who have the guts to put themselves out there and risk everything for a more fulfilling future.
The people who do this might not have the proven attributes we’re looking for on paper. But they have initiative, grit and heart.
These are attributes that can’t be taught. But they can be invaluable to have on our side.
They’re worth opening a door to. They’re worth braving the fog of the unknown to find.
It’s about time we did so.