Sometimes, you just need to be wrong.
I operate on some pretty simple philosophies, one of which is:
I rarely learn anything from success (I did it *right*? – cool)… so growing means I must fail. And, if I really want to learn, I must embrace it.
TO be clear, I don’t seek failure, nor am I particularly thrilled when it occurs. I actually very much like success… a lot. I mean: A. LOT. However, when I have unsuccessfully achieved the success I had anticipated, I remind myself that this is a “learning moment” and am buoyed by the premise of new and exciting knowledge that I expect to glean from examining the details of it. In a way, this allows me to turn every failure into some form of “forensic success.” Kind of a CSI/Unsuccessful Victims Unit – without the murder.
These days, I spend real energy explaining this concept to small business entrepreneurs because without a clear explanation to reveal its basic logic, I suspect it sounds pretty defeatist. In truth, it’s exactly the opposite. In large part, learning new lessons by embracing failure begins with losing the fear of being WRONG – which can be an incredibly empowering experience. For me, that first step started almost two decades ago in France, when I had the great opportunity to be at a dinner party with David Ogilvy, who is considered one of the great leaders in advertising. While everyone else at the table spoke operational French, I did not. They all made wonderful efforts to speak in a mixture of French and English, for my sake. However, as the night wore on and the wine poured out, their ability to maintain this graciousness quickly diminished into French gibberish and, near dessert, I was getting desperate for some form of inclusion.
In retrospect, I must admit that I was also pretty well socially-lubricated by the spirits, or else I doubt I would’ve had the courage to pick up my glass and move to an empty seat next to the Great Ogilvy. Flushed by the wine and crazy from the marzipan sweets, I spent a few minutes gushing and introducing myself repeatedly, finally giving him my business card. He took it all in stride – I doubt that I was the first or last to make an ass of myself at his doorstep – and at some point, I even worked up the nerve to ask him my favorite “celebrity” question, as it always elicits an interesting response, “What would you tell your kids about success, if you could only give them one bit of advice?”
Without missing a beat, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the back of my card, handing it back to me face-up, with his writing hidden. As he did so, he looked me straight in the eye. “Whenever you are in passionate disagreement with someone whose opinion you respect,” he said, “And, you are positive you are right and cannot understand how they could be so damned wrong – read this card.” Putting his pen away, he continued, “If you do that, you will always find the way to communicate. Communicating is success.” With that, he drained his glass and I could tell I was dismissed. I gushed a bit more, shook his hand like it was a car-jack and I was away.
Floating back to my seat before reading what he had written on my card, it took me several moments to decipher his chicken-scratch by candle-light. When I did, it hit me like hammer and I went immediately sober, as I knew I’d be telling this story for the rest of my life.
It said, simply, “maybe, they’re right.”
I knew instantly that, for these words to be truly meaningful, I’d have to acknowledge that – in spite of conviction, passion and my aggressive personality – I’d have to consider that I am WRONG, even when I KNOW I’m RIGHT. And, “wrong” equates to “failure”… doesn’t it? How in the world could failing help me succeed? I’ve thought about this a lot, since then. As a result, I’ve since come to believe that the right and wrong of a thing isn’t as important as getting the maximum experience out of it. And, while both “right and “success” most often simply reinforce the stuff I already knew, being WRONG and FAILING always leads me down paths I may never have considered… even when I turn out to be “right,” after all.
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