Author: Nik

This morning, I was looking for a white pair of long socks. Eventually, I managed to pull one out of the closet. I unfurled the socks and put them on.

“Ugh. Again?!” One sock was shorter than the other. It felt twisted, out of shape, and the portion that’s supposed to cover my heel wouldn’t fit. It must have shrunk a while ago while drying.

I know these socks, of course, and that’s why I went, “Ugh.” This was the third time I unsuspectingly grabbed and wore them, only to realize they wouldn’t do. Finally, I did the right thing: I took them off and threw them in the trash.

From 2014 to 2018, I wore a festival bracelet that was dear to me. One day, I wanted to play volleyball, so I cut it off. Parting with tradition requires the right timing. Parting with something broken that’s replaceable does not.

If you don’t want to worry about minor issues longer than you need to, don’t turn 30 seconds of responsibility into a month-long weight on your shoulders.

When the socks don’t fit, you can put them back, punt the problem, and set yourself up for another unpleasant surprise — or you can throw them away, make a note to buy new ones, and move on with your day.

When Nike first courted Michael Jordan for a sponsorship deal in 1984, they could barely get MJ to listen to their pitch. Nike founder Phil Knight thought salesman Sonny Vaccaro was crazy for even pursuing him, let alone the terms he wanted to offer the then-rookie, who had just signed with the Chicago Bulls a month before — and not played a single NBA game.

To be detailed in the upcoming movie Air, part of the story is already told in The Last Dance, a documentary following His Airness and the Bulls through their meteoric rise to legendary basketball status. David Falk, MJ’s agent from 1984 on through his entire career, remembers: “I couldn’t even get him to get on the damn plane and go visit the campus.”

Jordan loved Adidas, but they didn’t have the resources to build a shoe line just around him. Converse was the #1 NBA shoe supplier, and they already had Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, and Dr. J, an all-star roster of ambassadors — and yet, Nike still had to fight tooth and nail for Jordan. Falk was so desperate, he called Jordan’s mom, who made him “go listen.” “You may not like it, but you’re gonna go listen.”

Against their own better judgement, Nike pulled out all the stops. They offered Jordan his own shoe line using their latest technology, “air soles.” They paid him more for longer — $500,000 per year for five years, a sum three times higher than what even legends like Magic Johnson could command at the time. And they even named the shoe after him: Air Jordan.

All in all, it was the longest of long shots. An upstart company making mostly track shoes trying to tailor a shoe around a single player in a team sport who hadn’t yet won any trophies. As soon as they inked the deal, I guarantee you, everyone involved at Nike went: “Let’s pray this is gonna go well.”

“Nike’s expectation was, at the end of year four, they hoped to sell $3 million worth of Air Jordans,” Falk recalls. “In year one, we sold $126 million.” The rest, as they say, is history. Over the last 40 years, the Jordan-Nike collab has made tens of billions of dollars, making Jordan the first billionaire basketball player in history and generating billions in profit for Nike. What Nike initially wanted to sell in four years, they now sell every five hours.

The next time you catch yourself thinking, “I hope this is gonna go well,” remember: It could go well or not so well — but it might go even better, and that’s the hoop we’re truly shooting for.

Starbucks has been selling you the same cappuccino since 1986. Every time you go there, you get the exact same thing and, contrary to our expectations, that’s why it’s valuable. Starbucks is a $100 billion company not despite selling the same old boring coffee, but because of it. The average Starbucks customer spends $14,000 there over the course of their life. $14,000, one $5 cup of coffee at a time.

When people walk into your store and say, “I’ll have the usual,” that’s when you win. The problem is it’s hard to keep handing out the usual — with coffee, yes, but especially in the arts. Big franchises have a high churn of employees towards the bottom of the ladder. Front-line workers get burned out. There are only so many venti caramel lattes you can make before you want to pour the hot milk into your own face.

Now transfer the necessity to sound like a broken record to a deliverable that requires brains, not beans, like essays, music, or a software tool, and you have the perfect recipe for irreconcilable tensions: Humans want to be creative, and, on the one hand, making something new is exactly what gets us noticed by the crowd. On the other hand, that crowd then demands more of the same, and if we give in to their impulse, we’ll accrue more rewards but lose the satisfaction we felt from that initial act of creation.

Some people are good at this. They churn out article after article, repeating a few messages that resonate again and again. It doesn’t matter that they still sound the way they sounded five years ago because, while a fraction of the old readership remains, new fans constantly enter their circle, and that’s how they grow. The price is the ability to reinvent themselves, and the longer they wait to take it back, the more painful the eventual rebirth will be — but at least they’ll have the financial comfort to endure it.

Others, like my friend Zulie and I, struggle so much to be Starbucks, we’ll commiserate about our “boring stuff burnout” in two-month intervals. “Alright, focus, focus, focus,” we’ll say, find little pockets of freedom to get our creative fix, and then get back to work on our websites.

The creator’s bane is jumping from project to project, always hoping to strike gold yet never digging deep enough anywhere to actually find it. “Alright, cool, this worked. Now let me go do something else.” No! Do more of the same! At least until you can comfortably afford all of the “something elses” you pursue — if you are honest with yourself — not because you need a new approach but because you are bored.

When someone pays you $5 for a coffee, you don’t ask: “Okay, how can I make $5 from something else?” Business is not a creativity game. It’s a money game. The metric on the scoreboard is dollars, not colors. The goal is to earn the dollars so you can play with the colors, and until you do, the question is: “Can you repeat it?” The answer is a matter of grit, discipline, and focus much more so than logistics, but each time you manage to say “Yes,” you’ll be one step closer to financial — and therefore creative — freedom.

If you want to get a feel for how big Star Wars truly is, consider the Youtuber “Star Wars Theory”‘s apology video. It’s an apology shared with three million people — all fellow Star Wars fans. Theory can live well off his channel. The video is filmed in his Lamborghini. It’s a million-dollar lifestyle, all thanks to Star Wars.

But the subject of the apology reveals even more: Vader Episode 2, Theory’s long-awaited sequel to a 2018 live-action short film he produced with donations and channel earnings, is delayed yet again. The budget? $500,000.

That’s how big Star Wars is — fans raise serious money to produce their own indie movies to add to George Lucas’s original trilogy and sequels, and that’s to say nothing of the millions of comments, ideas, quotes, and opinions being shared every day.

In the comment section of Theory’s video, two themes emerge: People criticizing him for talking about budget constraints while obviously being well off, and people who claim they are happy to wait for a better result, offering advice on how to make Vader Episode 2 better.

The first group got sidetracked. Theory reveals very little about his personal life. For the first two years of growing his channel, he didn’t even show his face. He only offers details when they add to the message, and in this case, it was: “You don’t have to worry about me, but producing a budget movie is hard.”

There’s little worse than a sideline-hater. The commenters now complaining about their $10 donations potentially going into Theory’s gas tank have forgotten what they are experts on: Star Wars. They know next to nothing about Theory’s life, but that’s the part they choose to criticize — and it makes them look petty and little else.

The second group remembers: Star Wars is what we are here for. We can either rally together to get this thing done, or we’ll never see this universe go where we want it to go. When they offer criticism, it’s about the subject matter. “Go this direction with the episode.” “I would love to see…”

In one of his watch party live streams, Theory agrees with a fan: “When people say no one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans, [that’s] because we possess the appropriate level of understanding to call out the Star Wars BS when we see it.” “Finally someone gets it!” Theory yells.

It’s a theme worth adapting well beyond the confines of fandom: Earn your right to criticize.

Unless you invest serious amounts of mental and emotional energy into something, don’t throw shade from afar. It’s easy to critique something you know nothing about, but that’s exactly what makes your critique flimsy and easy to dismiss. If you want to give feedback that can actually change outcomes, you’ll have to work for that power. Otherwise, you’ll only look like yet another jealous commenter, complaining about the man in the arena from the stands.

May the Fourth be with you, and may you choose work over words on most days.

Yesterday, I was fully stuck in my head, ruminating about my own affairs, for the first few hours of the day. Even my usual fun-sprint down the spiral staircase at work couldn’t break me out of my shell. Only what happened next did.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning!”

“What can I get ya?”

“One cappuccino please.”

Whether it was because he had just cranked out 20 lattes already during the morning rush or for some other reason, I don’t know, but this time, I held my warm, comforting beverage in my hands within 30 seconds.

“Wow, that was light speed man, fantastic. Thank you!”

“Just normal,” he said and shrugged, but in the corner of his mouth, I could see the slightest smirk, and I knew: Here’s a human being who’s happy to have just received a compliment — and that, in turn, made me happy. That did the trick.

From that moment on, I became less self-conscious and more other-conscious. I finally started doing my tasks instead of thinking about them, because I remembered who I was trying to do them for.

It turns out, just like our work, compliments are for everyone. They warm the giver as much as the receiver — and both more than even the best cup of coffee. Give more compliments.

Before I even entered the Thai massage place, I already saw a sign in the window: “This is a professional business.” Stuck to the front counter in bold letters, there were more reminders: “We do not offer any sexual services.” Even in the massage room itself, more warnings on the door: “Do not ask for sexual treatments.”

On the one hand, I found it sad that people offering a health service rich in cultural tradition need to fight prejudice so badly. 10,000 kilometers away from their home, and yet the stereotype of “massages with happy endings” still haunts them.

On the other hand, this is the obstacle they chose, and now, they must overcome it. Are big signs the only way? If no signs didn’t work, what about repositioning the business? Perhaps a more high-end look would eliminate dubious customers. Maybe a more drastic move is necessary. What if they offered a different kind of massage? Remove the Thai branding altogether?

In Germany, many Vietnamese people used to operate “Chinese” restaurants before more diverse Asian cuisine became a thing. Was that ideal? No. But it made their lives easier and their businesses more profitable. In some cases, it even allowed them to survive until original Vietnamese cuisine became a hit with German folks.

In life but especially in business, you are picking your obstacles based on the kind of operation you run. There’ll always be certain problems baked into any industry, market, and locale. The only question is which one do you want to have? Some problems are better than others, if only because you are better suited to address them.

Even if you are somewhat locked in, say because you’ve trained to be a massage therapist for years, you always have room to navigate. You’re not a cardboard cutout — and you are always choosing. How flexible are you willing to be in how you present your skills? Would you take ghostwriting over no writing? Can you put your identity on the back-burner until your cash savings are in the green? These are tough but necessary questions.

You won’t always know which hurdles you’ll encounter before you start, but if you realize you’re fighting windmills on a daily basis, the rational — albeit sometimes hardest — thing to do is change. Pick your obstacles wisely.

There comes a time when life asks us to be more than we’ve ever been before. It’s not the usual, slow, near-invisible process of stretching we are accustomed to. Life will issue a direct call to us: “You. It is your turn. Will you take responsibility? Or cling to a past that, from this moment forth, is already gone?”

Life’s call could be to fill your parents’ big shoes after their sudden passing. It might be a political vacuum, at danger of supporting terrible leadership if inhabited by the wrong person. Or, it could be something mundane that happens thousands of times every day yet has profound implications: a surprise pregnancy. Will you accept the role of caretaker for another human being?

You won’t be ready when life makes the big ask, and you shouldn’t expect yourself to be. Unpreparedness is half the deal. You’ll have to make up this one as you go. But to do that, you are always ready. Life simply decided that now’s a good time for this particular challenge.

A prince doesn’t become a king on a schedule. He becomes a king when his father dies. There’s never a great time to sign up for the championship, to raise your hand in a crowded room, or to volunteer in case of an emergency. By definition, we must face these trials when they happen.

You are not perfect. You will never have all the skills, all the resources, or perfect emotional control. But you have the power to choose. To accept. To make the very best you can out of everything you’ve got. Please, use this power. Perhaps right in this moment, life is calling out your name. For your own sense of agency, peace of mind, and inner freedom; for your family, your people, and your country; for the sake of all of us, step up.

When Alex Hormozi worked at a fur coat dealer as an 18-year-old, one day, an angry customer walked in and started making a scene. “Where’s John? This is ridiculous!” the lady went off. “I spent so much money on this coat, and now this button already came off!”

Just as the woman was really getting fired up, John, the owner of the business, walked out and…started raging too! “Mrs. Johnson! You are right. This is outrageous! Totally unacceptable! Who sold you this coat? We’ll get rid of them right now! Did anyone see you with the button missing? We’ll get to the bottom of this right away!”

Shocked by John’s intense reaction, the lady actually began to calm down. “Uhm, you know, it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, these things happen. I just want it fixed. Can you fix it please?” “It is a big deal!” John continued. “We’ll handle this, just one moment.” John grabs the coat, takes it out back and, within five minutes, returns it to the lady — buttons and all.

The customer is over the moon. “Oh, thank you so much John, you’re the best! Sorry I was a little over the top before.” “No no, you should be,” John reaffirms, and as he passes Alex on his way back into the warehouse, he just shrugs his shoulders in a gesture that says, “You know, customers.”

That day, Alex learned a valuable lesson: “There can only be one person in the angry-boat.”

Usually, we try to calm down angry people, Alex says, but that’s a mistake. It’s in the phrase: When we say, “Just calm down,” we downplay their emotions. Instead, we should validate them. Get angry on their behalf!

When your partner is venting about work and you begin venting with them, that gives the two of you something to agree on. Instead of getting angrier and angrier, they can nod their head and go, “Yeah, that’s what I mean!” That, ironically, has a calming effect.

What’s more, there’s only so much room for anger at any given time. The angry-boat is a one-person canoe, and as soon as you get in, the other person will have to get out. A few days ago, when my girlfriend ranted about an ongoing, frustrating situation with her employer, I ended up getting so angry at them, she started telling me to calm down. “It is what it is. Let’s just wait and see.”

This is a great lesson for managing customers and relationships alike, but for it to work, you’ll need a third party to be angry at. If your partner is angry at you, you can still get angry at yourself, but it’s hard to share this anger in a productive way. Still, it validates their feelings if you tell them: “Actually, you’re right. I would be angry at me too in this situation.”

The next time you spot someone in the angry boat, don’t duck and whisper soothing words at them from afar. Hop right in, and demonstrate that you understand how they feel. Join the scene midway, and act it out until the end. Chances are, by the time you’re on a roll, your customer, friend, or partner will already be back ashore, extending a hand for you to join them back in the land of calm — and then all you have to do is remember there’s no reason to be angry.

Every now and then, my girlfriend and I have a discussion about some topic that, on the surface, seems to be just a to-do list item related to organizing, admin, or other everyday matters. It could be deciding on a budget for a vacation, researching for a new piece of furniture, or figuring out some paperwork.

When you look at the timing of the discussion, however, you might wonder: Why are they talking about this now? We might be thinking about a problem months in advance or debate a matter for which, at this point, we don’t really have sufficient information to make a good decision. That’s because not all of our brainstorming happens to address the surface-level, factual needs you can see. Some talks we hold mainly to manage our emotions. Of course, we rarely realize that’s what we are doing.

Have you ever felt the pressing need to resolve an issue, even though, objectively, there was no urgency just yet? Then the need was emotional, not factual — and that, too, is valid. Similarly, whenever you wonder why a partner, friend, or family member is so bent on talking about something right now, chances are, they need emotional reassurance. It will barely matter what you say nor what you agree on, as long as you agree on something that allows their emotions to subside.

It takes a lot of awareness to spot this pattern in the moment, but when you do, you are free to either move on or help your loved one reach a calmer state. The stakes drop a lot instantly because you realize the issue at hand doesn’t really matter — what matters is being there for one another.

Separating your and other people’s emotional needs from reality-based ones is a lifelong task. You won’t succeed at it in each discussion, and sometimes, tempers will raise before coming back down — but it is a most noble, unmistakably human service you’ll perform, and that is its own greatest reward.

Lesson #1 of moving: You always have more stuff than you think you do. That’s because humans stretch without realizing it.

I lived in a tiny, 24-square-meter apartment for five years, but what I carried out of that flat today was almost enough to fill an entire van. From one day to the next, I don’t think I ever felt as if anything had changed about the place — but feelings aren’t reality, and so a little here, a little there eventually adds up.

What’s one more shoe box? One more suitcase? One more book on your shelf? In the moment, nothing. But when you move out, these are the things you find in nooks and crannies — and that might force you to rent a bigger truck.

Of course, when we’re forced to pack all our belongings, we lament this dynamic. “How did I rack up so much stuff? Couldn’t have made do with less?” While requiring more physical space is annoying and often costly, our habit of stretching into our environment isn’t a bad thing in and of itself.

When you acquire things for yourself or for your home, it’s a sign you feel comfortable. You’re growing into and with the place. How could it possibly stay the same for five years? You won’t, and neither will your home.

More importantly, however, you also stretch into the various roles in your life. On your first day at work, you don’t know how to complete any of your regular tasks. Three months in, however, you’ve long started making your own tweaks to certain processes. You add a little here, a little there, and make the work your own. The same applies to new friendships, being a dad, and becoming an artist. Your character will have some basic setup, but all the nooks and crannies? You’ll have to fill those as you go, and you’ll do that as naturally as breathing — and that’s a wonderful thing.

The next time you move, try to remember what each item meant when you first put it in its place. Did it help you grow as a mother? Was it a sign that you’ve started living healthier? Appreciate the stretching, and even when it’s time to let go of some possessions, you’ll feel grateful rather than annoyed.

Some people will roll their eyes when you set up personal photographs on your desk, but while their purpose is simple, their meaning is deep: You can take up as much space as you need to be who you want to be, and you’re capable of becoming so much more than you think you can.