Tag: confidence

The Paradox of Trust

A friendly face.

It’s a lifeline.

When we’re faced with novelty, a friendly face can make all the difference.

Friendly is familiar. And familiarity can cut through the jitters of uncertainty.

So, we seek out a friendly face at any opportunity. We seek to build a stable of people we can trust.

We believe that we’re setting ourselves up for success by doing this. But we could be booking a one-way ticket to trouble instead.

I’ve often been described as trustworthy.

Many times, I get this feedback directly. Sometimes I see it through the actions of others.

I take this accolade as an honor and a responsibility.

While it’s great to have others believe in me, I know I can’t rest on my laurels. I must work continually to validate that trust.

For trust is not a rubber stamp. It’s a contract.

If I fail to deliver on my end of that contract, it evaporates. I lose the goodwill of family, friends, and associates. And I end up hurt, perhaps irreparably.

And if I abuse the contract entirely — blatantly violating its terms for my own gain — it ignites. I lose the goodwill of family, friends, and associates when the truth comes to light. And they end up hurt, perhaps irreparably.

Yes, what builds us up can also tear us down.

And so, I am deliberate when it comes to trust. I strive to model trustworthy behavior, but I don’t overtly seek out the trust of others.

I simply put myself in a position to earn that label. And once I receive it from someone, I work extra hard to maintain it.

The stakes are too high to act otherwise.

Confidence artists.

We have a complicated relationship with them.

We love it when our favorite characters on the silver screen are putting on a ruse. But we loathe seeing such sequences play out in real life.

The gap between these two examples might seem stark. But they’re closer together than we might want to admit.

Whether it’s James Bond or Bernie Madoff, confidence artists draw from the same well — our sense of trustworthiness, and our unwillingness to question it.

And while it’s easy to trivialize those victimized by confidence schemes — labeling them as the naïve, the uber-rich, or the movie villains who had it coming — such dissonance misses the point.

All too often, we play fast and loose with the concept of trustworthiness. We hand over the keys to the Rolls Royce that is our life. And we just expect the valet in its charge not to go joyriding with it.

We hope that everyone’s better angels will shine through. But what if they don’t?

We have no contingency plan for the devil in our midst. We head out into the chaos of the world without an inch of armor. And the results are predictably tragic.

Perhaps it’s time to change the calculus.

My parents are both educators.

Ever since I was a child, they’ve been entrusted with the well-being of schoolchildren. During the busiest part of the day, they share a classroom – with no parents in sight.

This alone isn’t noteworthy. Or it shouldn’t be.

After all, the school system has been set up this way in America for two centuries. We entrust educators with our kids, no questions asked.

But recently, things have changed.

Revelations of physical abuse in the classroom by teachers have shattered any sense of trust. Schools have had to face tough questions about how they operate.

This has impacted my parents. They’re consummate professionals who have proven worthy of the trust bestowed upon them. But they now face a bevy of regulations and restrictions that impact how they teach.

There’s no question that these changes were needed. The old method of blind trust allowed predators to lie in plain sight, and plenty of lives were ruined in the balance.

Still, the current climate in classrooms isn’t exactly sustainable either. Education can’t happen in a trust vacuum, with all its mechanisms eroded away.

The solution lies somewhere in the middle, in the gray area between carte blanche and a surveillance state.

And it’s there, in the fog and the mist, where the path forward is so difficult to navigate.

Trust but verify.

Back when I worked in television news, I internalized these three words.

Speed was the name of the game. Getting the scoop, being the first to report — that meant everything.

But accuracy was the name of the game too. Putting the wrong information out there could get you in a boatload of trouble.

Choosing between these two edicts wasn’t an option. So, I went with the trust but verify approach.

Essentially, our news operation would implicitly trust the information we came across. But we’d still check with a second source to verify that intel, ensuring it was accurate.

This trust but verify approach speaks to the paradox of trust. We need it, but we can only rely on it so much.

There’s no true guidebook for this paradox. There’s no silver bullet that leverages the upside of trust without exposing us to those nasty downsides.

The best we can do is to approach the situation with eyes wide open. To lean into our vulnerability and to prepare ourselves for the worst outcomes.

We can do this by honoring the trust placed in us. Instead of taking this goodwill for granted, we can act to validate it day in and day out.

And when it comes to the trust we place in others, we can take our time. Instead of diving right in, we can verify that our faith is indeed justified.

On their own, these actions won’t mean much. Trust can still be broken. People can still get burned.

But as more and more of us follow these principles, those risks will diminish. We will bolster our faith in each other while working together to deliver the goods.

That’s a future we can all get behind. But it starts with our actions today.

So, let’s get started.

The Confidence Conundrum

No chance.

How many times have you heard this retort, when you brought up something you thought would happen? And how many times have those doubts led you to question your own beliefs?

Probably more than once.

Skepticism has a powerful pull over us. It helps us stay in line with reality, and aligns our expectations with those of society.

As communal creatures, we are hard-wired to heed these warnings. They keep us from straying too far from the pack. They shield us from danger.

And yet, we lose quite a bit in this exchange. The principles of creativity, exploration and self-conviction all go by the wayside. Our toolkit for handling adversity is emaciated.

How do we take back our individualism without finding ourselves lost in the wilderness? And how can we summon the courage to explore new frontiers without paying a heavy price for doing so?

Such crossroads make up the Confidence Conundrum.

I am a man of faith.

Not in the way you might expect. I do believe in God, but you’re not likely to find me in a house of worship as the week winds down.

No, I am a man of great faith in myself. I believe that I will achieve and persevere.

Such self-belief has been critical throughout my life. It’s helped me navigate both adolescence and adulthood. And it’s helped me rebound from the setbacks I encountered along the way.

But such faith is not completely unbridled. There have been plenty of moments that have given me trepidation.

Some of these moments — such as the start of a new job — make many of us queasy. Others — such as moving to a new apartment or assembling furniture — are less prevalent concerns.

The situations that give me pause might seem disparate. Random even.

But they have one thing in common. They represent moments of rapid change.

I don’t do well with quick transitions. I rely heavily on precedent and routine to guide my actions. And when normalcy gets uprooted, it’s as if the rug was pulled out from under me.

So, I slow the pace when the winds of change hit. Instead of blasting blindly into the unknown, I let the dust settle before making my move.

It’s a pattern that’s worked well for me. But it’s not exactly a commonly espoused one.

There are a few places we know to expect the unexpected. Where the improbable becomes plausible.

This happens with Disney movies. It happens with the Texas weather. And it happens with the world of sports.

Sports encompasses a world of matchups. Of head to head competition. Of the victors and the vanquished.

The binary nature of sports can tempt us to handicap. To assess the match ahead of time and make our predictions.

Anyone who has donned fancy clothes to attend a horse race, tuned in to a two-hour football pregame show or placed a wager at a sportsbook knows how prevalent this practice is.

We prognosticate so that we can get a handle on what’s coming. We predict so that our emotions are primed for what we are to experience.

And we use a bevy of information for this process. Advanced statistics. Detailed strategic analyses. Even physical attributes, such as the size of the athletes.

The predictions we garner from all this information do come to pass — some of the time. But not always.

There are plenty of upset victories in sports. There are countless instances where the team or competitor deemed too small, too inexperienced or too talent-deficient comes out on top.

Why does this keep happening? How have we not learned from our errors by now?

The answer is intangible. It comes down to the one measure we can’t measure: Confidence.

Athletes believe in themselves. They draw on their experience and ability to give themselves a competitive edge. They’re not focused on the might of their opponents or anything else outside their own orbit. They’re honed in on what they can do when given an opportunity.

Sometimes that confidence can prove to be misguided. I once attended a high school football game in West Texas where the kids on the hometown team were half the size of their opponents. I could see that the home team believed in themselves despite the size disadvantage. And they did indeed hang tough for a bit. But the final score was still lopsided in favor of the other team.

Still, there are plenty of times when that confidence gives an athlete or team all the edge they need. When that self-belie  is the slingshot David needs to slay Goliath.

It’s what we love about sports. Unless, of course, our team is the one bested by the plucky upstart.

Talent only takes you so far. Belief is everything.

Simple choices.

As the world gets more nuanced, we seem to want these more than ever.

So, we delude ourselves. We look for examples of binary decisions and foist them upon our complex world.

Sports is Exhibit A of this.

Think about how many sports terms are now part of our everyday vernacular.

Swinging for the fences. Playing hardball. Three strikes and you’re out.

And that’s just baseball.

We love to use these terms. They’re catchy and they flow well.

But they really don’t work the same outside the lines.

This is particularly the case when it comes to confidence. It’s tempting to tell ourselves that if athletes can keep the faith in all circumstances, we can too.

But this is a critical error.

In sports, victory is all that’s on the line. Athletes are simply looking for the chance to be better than someone else at a particular feat.

In other words, the floor is high. Professional athletes will get paid, win or lose. The worst outcome they might face (outside of injury) is that their season will end before someone else can hoist a trophy.

Even amateur competitors likely won’t see the bottom drop out. Their worst outcome is the dashing of their professional athletic dreams. And even if that happens, they walk away with an advanced degree in leadership, teamwork and preparation.

So, there’s really no reason for athletes not to be confident. In the grand scheme of things, what’s on the line isn’t all that dire.

The same can’t be said for all of us in the world outside of sports. If we walk into a situation we’re ill-equipped to handle, armed only with a dose of self-belief, we risk it all. We could end up delegitimized, destitute and devoid of hope.

Then again, self-doubt is also insidious. If we don’t believe in ourselves at all, we punt on our potential and cede control of our destiny.

This is a puzzle of the highest order. A quandary we can’t afford to sidestep.

It’s imperative that we recognize this conundrum for what it is. And that we strategize accordingly.

That strategy can take many forms. Some may do as I do, and pick certain spots in which to be cautious. Others may keep their sense confidence close to the vest, believing in themselves without letting the world know it.

But regardless, we must identify The Confidence Conundrum. And we must come to terms with it.

The stakes are simply too high to do otherwise.

Living With The Enemy

I was at my kitchen table when a heard a muffled sound.

It was that staccato of something bumping into a thin piece of metal.

As if by instinct, I turned my head to the left to investigate. My gaze shifted upward to find the area the sound was coming from.

As my eyes reached the track lighting near the ceiling, I found my culprit — a large yellow jacket.

I was instantly paralyzed with terror.

There are few things in life that I fear. Strangely enough, mud is one of those things. (That’s a story for a different time.) But wasps are certainly another.

Wasps are aggressive flying creatures. They have a painful sting. And they often set up nests in areas that people access.

As far as I’m concerned, wasps represent an impending disaster.

And so, as spring approaches each year, I am on guard. I have pest control on speed dial as I head out onto my patio. I walk gingerly as I approach blooming brush or dense wooded areas.  For my nemesis could be lurking anywhere.

But this time, the enemy was inside the gates. I was trapped with a wasp, inside my own home.

What was I to do?

I sat there, motionless. Meanwhile, the wasp swan dived from the lights onto the stainless steel door of my refrigerator.

The insect was oblivious to my presence. It calmly rested on the metal.

As I watched it apprehensively, a thought came to my mind.

Leave it be.

I couldn’t believe myself. Was I really going to let something I feared take over my sanctuary like this. Had I gone mad?

But the yellow jacket was leaving me alone for the time being. I could at least try and do the same.

So, over the next hour or so, I followed through on my uneasy truce. The wasp and I co-existed in my home — it on the refrigerator door, me at my kitchen table.

But eventually, the wasp tired of its perch. It flew around the kitchen for a bit before landing on a doorframe. And at the moment its wings took flight, the fear came coursing back through my veins.

So, I spring into action.

I got a can of Raid, cornered the yellow jacket, and shot the spray at it. The wasp fell to the floor and stopped moving.

I didn’t have remorse for what I did.

After all, I’d removed all manner of pests from my home before — even the ones that didn’t fill me with terror.

But as I swept up the wasp and disposed of it, I thought of my initial instinct — the one telling me to leave it be. I considered how I had tried to conquer my demons, and to live with the enemy.

What had inspired me to make such an attempt? Was I going soft? Had I lost the will to take control over my own home?

No, I had not. Deep down inside, it seemed I know what I was doing all along.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

This is a bit of wartime wisdom, perfectly encapsulated in the film The Godfather, Part II.

Proximity to the enemy can yield abundant intelligence. And abundant intelligence can lead to effective strategy.

This is why guerilla warfare has had such a long run of success. Instead of facing off on an open field, guerillas can lurk in the midst of their enemies. They co-exist — at least until they have enough of an advantage to strike.

There is still risk in this confrontation. Casualties remain likely, if not inevitable.

But when compared to continual, open conflict, guerilla warfare can prove more effective and efficient.

And it all starts with the willingness to live with the enemy.

As I write this, we are in the midst of a crisis, as our health is threatened by a lethal virus.

It’s tempting to seek to attack this issue head-on. Or to hunker down until all the danger has passed.

But such tactics are not sustainable. For a virus cannot instantly be stamped out or indefinitely be waited out. It evolves over time.

And so, we must learn to coexist with it. To recognize that its presence might continue in the short term, even as we seek to eradicate them in the long term.

Ideally, we can avoid direct conflict with the virus through this arrangement. But some risk will still remain present.

Even so, that risk is likely far lower than it would be under less sustainable tactics.

Months after my encounter with the yellow jacket, I climbed into the back seat of an SUV.

I had dropped my vehicle off to get repaired. And now, I was getting a ride back to the shop to pick it up.

But as the SUV went into motion, I heard a rustling sound. I looked across the back seat and spotted another yellow jacket. It was exploring the window guard on the other side of the vehicle.

This was all disconcerting enough. But moments later, the wasp flew right by me and nestled on the top of my window guard.

The wasp couldn’t have been more than 10 inches away from my face, and I had no way to elude it. There was no can of Raid to save me this time.

I had no choice but to confront my fears. I would need to live with the enemy.

And so, I sat there for five whole minutes, doing my best to ignore the insect. I was projecting calm — all while quietly freaking out. Each turn in the road had me worried that the wasp would get agitated and sting me.

But it never happened. The wasp minded its own business.

By the time I got to my destination, I felt triumphant. I had committed to living with my fears. And this time, I managed to avoid breaking that commitment.

 

We can all make the same commitment.

The commitment not to hide from the dangers all around us. Or to charge recklessly right toward them.

But instead, the commitment to pause. To seek out a more sustainable path. And to take it.

It’s a subtle power, this power of restraint. But that doesn’t make it any less resonant.

Yes, our enemies may lie in our midst. But if we play our cards right, they can bring out the best in us.

The Dunning-Kruger Reality

One of my favorite psychological concepts is the Dunning-Kruger effect.

This effect — named for the psychologists who discovered it — explains a common cognitive bias.

In particular, it describes the gap between how we think we perform at a task and how we actually perform at that task.

The Dunning-Kruger effect proclaims that those who are the most confident in their performance are, in fact, all too often overconfident.

For example, if someone is convinced they crushed an exam, there’s a pretty good chance they got a B instead. And if someone thinks they’re the best at the task they do, there’s a good chance they’re actually solidly above average.

This effect is more pronounced in men than in women. And since it’s a metacognition error, the person affected has no way of recognizing the predicament they’re in.

To borrow some old-school Hip-Hop lingo, those afflicted by the Dunning-Kruger effect are acting a fool, with no ability to check themselves before they wreck themselves.

There are many reasons to be intrigued by the Dunning-Kruger effect.

For one thing, it can serve as karmic justice who talk a big game yet fail to deliver. For another, it can provide scientific backing to the Schadenfreude we feel when those with the biggest egos get knocked down a few pegs by reality.

Most of all, can make us seem slightly less cruel when calling out people for their misplaced hubris. After all, saying You Dumbass is subjective. Saying You made an error in judgment that any of us could have also made is objective.

Yet, this is not what intrigues me about the Dunning-Kruger effect. For I see this effect as more than just a vehicle for derision.

I see it as an explanation of where we are as a society today.

If you’ve been paying attention to the news in recent years, you’ve likely noticed two themes.

Powerful men in media and entertainment have seen a reckoning, as the women they’ve exploited have held them to account. And powerful men in politics have acted more brazen and boisterous than ever, with seemingly no one in place to hold them to account.

It’s a strange dichotomy. One group of powerful men falling, and another group seemingly becoming infallible.

Yet, while these men are on opposing career trajectories, they have one thing in common: A large group of detractors.

The detractors despise these men. For who they are, what they’ve done and what they’re still doing. As such, they haven’t been shy in voicing their displeasure.

Yet, when these detractors describe their sworn enemies, they all too often use E words.

Entitled. Egotistical. Evil.

I think these detractors are off track. The word I think more accurately describes the powerful men in question starts with an O.

Overconfident.

I believe these men are mired deep in the quicksand of Dunning-Kruger effect. So deep that they’ve become delusional.

The ingredients are all in place for this explanation.

These men were raised in the early generations of Bro Culture. Many of the transgressions of their youth were often dismissed with the phrase Boys will be boys.

As they grew up, success seemed to follow them anywhere they went. Whether through talent or connections, they were able to make it to the next level with relative ease. Fame and fortune followed.

The result was predictably toxic.

A group of men who never learned boundaries with an outsized sense of confidence and too much power. The Dunning-Kruger effect on the biggest of stages.

The transgressions and blunders that followed were, sadly, predictable. Whenever that much unchecked overconfidence is in place, delusion sets in, and collateral damage piles up.

Tragically, that collateral damage has ruined many women’s lives and jolted international diplomacy and trade. It’s led to an era marked by mistrust, anger and polarization.

The world as we know it is getting sucked into the maelstrom. All because of a destructive condition we can’t control.

Or can we?

 

I am a terrible dancer.

I know it. I believe it. And I’m not shy in admitting it.

Whenever I’m at a party, I make it abundantly clear that I’m not going to be dancing.

I do this for self-preservation. It’s not just that I can’t bust a move. I’m literally afraid to try and do so.

Yet, as the night goes on and my friends get a few drinks in, they inevitably drag me onto the dance floor.

And each time, something interesting happens. I find out I’m not as bad at dancing as I thought I was.

I’m no Patrick Swayze or Bruno Mars, of course. But I can hold my own.

This revelation represents the other side of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

In Dunning and Kruger’s initial studies, they not only found a large group of people who were overconfident in their performance on a given task, but they also found several people who underestimated their abilities on the same task.

There are several explanations for this. On a basic level, people exhibiting this behavior might have experienced failure before, along with the dreaded sensation of FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). These feelings, on their own, can raise apprehension and lower confidence.

But when you factor in all the overconfident people out there — the very ones who are exposed as frauds by the Dunning-Kruger effect — things get interesting.

Could it be that the underconfident people equate confidence with ability? That they see the people with the biggest bravado and exclaim There’s no way I’m at that level?

It could be so. And indeed it is.

Underconfident people often battle something called Imposter Syndrome. Even when they see visceral success, they often believe they are not truly qualified for the task, and it’s only a matter of time until they’re found out.

I myself frequently battle Imposter Syndrome — in my job, in my social life, and even occasionally when writing these articles.

It’s a crippling phenomenon. One only exacerbated by the Dunning-Kruger effect.

Someone battling Imposter Syndrome is likely to see an overconfident person as a standard bearer for achievement. While the actual gap in performance between the two might be small or nonexistent, the underconfident person will feel as if they just don’t measure up.

This thinking is problematic in our culture. Our society favors boldness and self-belief; Imposter Syndrome is all too often viewed as a self-created roadblock to realizing our own potential — one that must be eradicated at all costs.

Yet, given what we now know about Dunning-Kruger effect, I wonder if that’s the right tact to pursue.

If boldness makes us delusional and causes a trail of collateral damage that polarizes our society, is it really the best ideal to strive for?

Perhaps it would be better to let that FUD slip into our lives. To put ourselves in position to fail now and then so that we know where the guardrails lie. To estimate our abilities off our own experience, rather than the flawed self-assessments of others.

If we can do all that, then perhaps someday Dunning-Kruger effect wouldn’t be the catastrophe-maker it currently is. It could become a quaint psychological term to describe the select few who resist their better angels. The few who would still insist on talking the talk without walking the walk.

The rest of us would be grounded in reality. The reality of life in its rawest, purest form.

I’d sign up for a future like that. Would you?

Own The Moment

The stars shine bright when the lights are brightest.

This line might seem a bit cliché, but there’s a measure of truth to it. The most captivating performances do tend to come from those who own the moment.

I still remember the first time I recognized how true this statement could be. I was 14 years old, watching Allen Iverson take over a game at Madison Square Garden. Under the bright lights of perhaps basketball’s most iconic arena, “The Answer” scored basket after basket down the stretch — silencing 20,000 jeering fans and salting away a win for the Philadelphia 76ers.

It was amazing to see Iverson take that stage, that moment, and make it his own. But then again, that’s what great athletes do. People remember Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and Derek Jeter not only because of their immense talent, but also because of their ability to own the moment on their sports’ biggest stages. Here in Dallas, Dirk Nowitzki will be remembered as much for willing the Mavericks to the 2011 NBA championship as he will be for his Hall of Fame-level career statistics.

Yes, the greatest athletes know how to own the moment. But they’re not the only ones.

We all have an opportunity to own our moments too.

You see, there are times in each of our lives where the lights are on us. Whether we’re talking about a presentation or a proposal, a career change or a self-improvement project, the objective remains the same — own it.

What does that mean?

  • It means putting your heart into it. Devoting yourself to the moment itself as much as the outcome of it.
  • It means staying prepared. Taking the time and initiative beforehand to ready yourself for that moment.
  • It means being confident. Understanding that success is a mindset, and that fear of failure has no place in it.

Ultimately, owning the moment means embracing an aura of achievement. When the spotlight is on our face, our vigilance, devotion and attitude will tell the world the type of person we are — that we will take that light and make it ours.

Now, I realize that this requires extra work, intense focus and some soul searching. That might not seem palatable, particularly for the strenuous situations we must get through.

Still, it’s crucial that we focus on owning all of the moments we come across. It’s tantamount to survival.

After all, no one remembers those who let the moments swallow them whole. It’s the ones who rise to the occasion who tend to see success and recognition.

So, embrace those moments still ahead of you. Be thankful for the opportunities they bring.

Prepare. Devote. Believe.

The outcome might not be entirely in your hands, but your outlook sure is.

Own the moment.