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CHAPTER 8: SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

DON’T MISS THE POINT.

It’s never too late to be what you might have been. -George Eliot

An Olympic gold medalist and eight-time Grand Slam winner, Andre Agassi is one of the all-time tennis greats. From the age of sixteen, when he turned pro, to the end of his phenomenally successful career, he dominated the sport. He’s not just an athlete but a true celebrity as well. If you ranked every sports player in history by lifetime endorsements, Agassi would be fourth in the world.

For all his success, though, Andre seemed incapable of being happy. In fact, not even 24 hours after reaching number one in the world, Agassi found himself roaming the streets, wondering, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m the number one tennis player on earth, and yet I feel empty.” By 1997, he was more than just empty; he was in trouble. His world ranking dropped, eventually falling to a dismal 141. He was given a drug test and tested positive for crystal meth. He was overcome with depression and a sense of doom. Agassi had become a shadow of the man he once was.

What went wrong? How could this happen? How does a man become wealthy, famous, and number one in the world at what he does and still feel empty?

When asked that question, Agassi confessed to a crime many of us have committed: He simply had the wrong goals.

“I never really wanted to be number one,” he said. “That was just something others wanted for me.” Then Agassi found what he wanted. His comeback began when he started a charter school for disadvantaged kids. His own childhood had been dysfunctional, and he had never felt safe. He wanted to create a place where children could feel the security he never enjoyed, a place where kids had a chance at realizing their potential.

Now his achievement on the tennis court meant something new. It was a means to fund his mission—a way to raise millions for a goal he truly believed in. “At last,” he wrote in his autobiography, “my fame will have a purpose.” Two years later, Agassi was once again the number one tennis player in the world. He continues to hold the record for being the oldest player to be ranked number one.

There’s a key moment on amusement park roller coasters—usually on the fastest, most frightening stretch of track—when you get your picture taken.

When you get off the ride, you’ll find groups of people clustered around those photos, pointing, laughing, and commenting on the expressions of people as they pass through the scariest moment of the ride.

Those pictures are an education in themselves. They say a lot about the ride—and the riders. You’ll find every expression and body posture you can imagine, from the abject terror of a man trying to crawl beneath the safety bar to hide, to a woman’s face-splitting smile of joy as she hits speeds she never thought she’d see, her hair billowing out behind her.

As we wrap up this roller coaster training guide, I want to give you a few of the do’s and don’ts of the entrepreneurial ride. I want to know that no matter when the camera flashes—whether during a skyrocketing ascent or death spiral drop—you’ll be smiling.

THE DO’S AND DON’TS OF SUCCESSFUL RIDING

DON’T… WANT WHAT YOU DON’T WANT

In six years and 72 covers, there are only three people we’ve ever featured twice on the cover of SUCCESS magazine. This guy is one of them.

Why? Because I love the guy.

I love Richard Branson.

In fact, I’ll let you in on a secret: For years, I wanted to be Richard Branson.

I mean, why not? Who doesn’t want to be a billionaire adventurer playboy with rugged good looks and an apparently inexhaustible supply of enthusiasm? The dude just exudes fun, coolness… and he’s a billionaire who has his own private island. How sweet is that?

Yep, Richard was my model of success. I wanted to be Richard Branson.

That is, until I got to know him.

Make no mistake, I still love the guy. And he truly is cool. But, after studying him, I realized how differently we are wired.

The more I learned about his life, the more I began to realize how miserable I would be if I had to live his life. I saw the stress and complexity of heading more than 400 companies. I considered the headaches that come with managing, directly or indirectly, 50,000 employees. And the lawsuits! The inevitable and constant lawsuits! I began to see that although he loved it, being Richard Branson would never work for me.

Branson likes having 400 plates spinning and doesn’t mind if a few fall.

I don’t like breaking plates.

I like delivering excellence in a few carefully chosen areas of my life. I’ve learned this is how I like to live. Fewer things, done excellently, equal happiness for me. Sir Richard Branson, on the other hand, thrives in a very different environment.

Of course, I still find great inspiration and insight in many of his brilliant methods and philosophies, but the greatest lesson he taught me—greater than any growth strategy or innovation technique—was this: “Don’t want what you don’t want.”

Simple words, with profound meaning.

It’s an easy trap to fall into—believe me, I know. It’s easy to fall under the spell of someone else’s dreams or be seduced by the scorekeeping of other peoples goals.

Don’t.

“Follow your own path not the Joneses’. Listen to your own gut, your own heart, not the ambitions of others. Don’t let fear, envy, or social pressure cloud your vision.” @DarrenHardy JoinTheRide

Follow your own path—not the Joneses’. Listen to your own gut, your own heart—not the ambitions of others. Don’t let fear, envy, or social pressure cloud your vision. You know what you like and what you don’t. You know what fulfills you and what doesn’t. Use your intuition, follow the internal pull, and ignore the external distractions.

Chasing someone else’s model of success might have you waking up one morning to realize that, like Andre Agassi, you’ve been chasing something for the wrong reasons.

Don’t want what you don’t want.

This is your ride, after all—no one else’s.

DON’T… MISS THE POINT

My dad’s mentor was his football coach at Cal State East Bay (then known as Cal State Hayward). My dad called him “Coach” his whole life. Coach grew up in a small farming town in Arkansas as one of nine children. He rose above abject poverty and was my earliest example of a self-made man.

After coaching football, he got into real estate and then became the reason my dad got into real estate (which, in turn, was why I ended up in real estate, as well). He saw business as a dog-eat-dog boxing match, and his financial statement was his scorecard. Over the years, Coach ended up owning several hundred units of real estate and accumulated a staggering fortune.

During one of my visits to the Bay Area, my father asked me to join him to go visit Coach, who, at 70, was in the fight of his life with cancer. By this point Coach could barely lift his head off the pillow. But he could still talk, and for over an hour we laughed and reminisced, telling old stories and revisiting his many accomplishments in life.

When it came time to leave, we said our goodbyes, and I was following my dad out the door when I heard Coach’s hoarse voice call out, “Darren! Darren!” I rushed back over to him, thinking the worst. I put my hands on his hospital bed rails and leaned in.

“What’s wrong, Coach?” I asked.

He reached up and grabbed me firmly by the forearm and pulled his head up off the pillow for the first time that day to meet my gaze. He looked at me sternly, and said, “Don’t miss the point.” Don’t miss the point?

I wasn’t sure I understood. What point had I missed? Had there been a point?

He continued, “I had houses. Too many houses. What I needed was more people. More relationships.” He took a breath.

“I invested money. Money!” he spit out the word. “Heart. I should have been investing my heart.” He took another breath. And with this one, I saw his eyes turn a watery-blue. “I was keeping the wrong score, Darren. I was playing the wrong game.” At that moment, the former football coach, the real estate magnate, the man at the very end of his days, released his grip on my arm. He lay his head back on the pillow and, staring blankly at the ceiling, said one last time—to me or himself, I’ll never know: “Don’t miss the point.”

I swallowed hard. “I won’t, Coach. Thank you. I won’t.”

That was the last time I ever saw Coach. But I’ll never forget his words. I live by them now. And I respectfully pass them on to you.

Don’t miss the point.

“Don’t miss the point. Spend your day pursuing the things you want said in your eulogy.” @DarrenHardy JoinTheRide

IS BIGGER BETTER?

Many people follow their ambition with reckless abandon and their ambition comes back to bite them, as it did for Coach.

Before pursuing more for more’s sake, pause and ask yourself an important question: Will being bigger make things better?

It’s a serious question and a very important one to consider. If your knee-jerk response is yes, I’d suggest you take the time to be sure. Remind yourself what is most important to you. Is it freedom? Love? Happiness? Health? Connectedness? More time with your children, your spouse, or your friends?

Now ask yourself, will going for bigger bring you more of what you want? If it will, then go for it with everything you’ve got.

But if it will take you away from the things you want most, then be very careful.

Ambition is a tricky thing. It can power your ride to great speed, and you’ll need ambition to drive you to grow, persevere, and realize your capabilities. But it can also drive you off the tracks to your doom. Your ambition will tell you to pursue every shiny object, chase every opportunity, and constantly go for bigger. But it might also drive you right out of your life. Bigger could mean less time with family or less freedom as you’re held prisoner by the demands of your big, big thing.

I’m not afraid to admit that ambition, and I have a sordid past. I have learned the hard way that sometimes you fall so desperately in love with the destination that you only realize after it’s too late that the journey sucked and the destination wasn’t worth it.

START WITH THE END

How do you figure out “the point” so you don’t miss it? How do you make sure your ambition doesn’t overtake your life, thus leaving you without one? The answer? Start with the end and work backward.

Imagine waking up tomorrow morning, grabbing your cup of coffee, and opening up the newspaper to find your obituary announcing your death. That’s exactly what happened to Swedish chemist Alfred Nobel in 1888.

Ludvig Nobel, Alfred’s brother, had passed away, but a French newspaper mistakenly thought it was Alfred. They printed Alfred’s obituary instead.

Alfred was an armaments manufacturer and the inventor of dynamite. For his accomplishments, the premature obituary named him the “merchant of death,” holding him responsible for mass destruction and blaming him for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of men.

As Alfred read his own obituary in the paper, he was shocked at the legacy he would one day actually leave behind. He vowed then and there to change it, and in his will, he left the bulk of his enormous fortune to establish the now famous Nobel Prizes. To this day, the Nobel Prizes are the highest awards that can be attained in the fields of literature, medicine, science, economics, chemistry, and peace.

By thinking clearly about the end and the legacy he wanted to leave, Alfred transformed both his present actions and his future legacy.

He, in effect, rewrote his own obituary, and you can do the same. In fact, it’s how you can be sure you don’t miss the point. Define clearly how you want your obituary to read now.

Then start living in alignment with it today.

“Bigger is only better if it’s making that smile on your face wider, brighter, and fills the journey with joy. Live today as you want to be remembered in the end.” @DarrenHardy JoinTheRide

Remember what Coach said. Don’t miss the point.

Bigger is only better if it is making that smile on your face wider and brighter, and fills the journey with joy. Live today as you want to be remembered in the end.

DO… THE RIGHT THING

I know all too well how difficult it can be to keep your priorities straight when you’re constantly presented with ways to make your ride faster or more exciting. With the hot air of ambition breathing down your neck, it’s easy to miss the point.

When ambition starts to get the better of me and I’m offered choices that might take my ride into the danger zone, I think of my father and what must have been the most difficult decision of his life.

My parents divorced when I was eighteen months old. My dad insisted on keeping me—something that doesn’t happen often now and happened even less in the early ’70s. My mother, who never really wanted to be a mother in the first place, cheerfully handed me over.

My dad was only twenty-three and hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with a toddler. My grandmother (my other one, my dad’s mom), who saw the writing on the wall quite clearly, insisted that he ship me home to live with her. He said no. Undeterred, she got on a plane (for the first time ever) and appeared on our front doorstep one afternoon, insisting he hand me over.

My dad once again refused, which was no small feat. His mother ruled his world. When she insisted, he always relented. Always.

But not this time. This time was different.

My dad told her I was his responsibility and he would do what had to be done. When she pressed him to explain why, he said, simply, “It’s the right thing to do.” Shortly after, we moved to Hawaii, where my dad was the football coach for the University of Hawaii. Life was good for my dad then. He had a great job and was doing well. But a year later, his mother died and his father was not handling it well. As my grandfather deteriorated, my dad once again did the right thing. He left his coaching position—a job he loved—and moved us back to the Bay Area to live with my grandfather.

Settled in our new situation, my dad now had to look for another job. As I’m sure you can imagine, there are only so many coaching positions available at any given time. Months of searching and applying for positions near my grandfather’s home passed. Nothing happened. We were running out of money, and the situation was becoming dire.

Finally a head coaching job opened up at Olympic College in Washington.

Head coach. This was my dad’s dream job. It would be the pinnacle of my father’s college coaching career, and here he was, so close he could almost taste it. There were three other applicants in the running, and although he was the least qualified, my father hustled, charmed, and gave it his all.

Decision day came on a Friday afternoon. I remember the phone ringing at our house and my father’s head turning sharply to stare at it for a moment before he answered. It was the chancellor of the college on the other end of the line, and he had the entire board of 38 people in the room with him. With great excitement and hoopla, they announced that my dad was being awarded the position as the new head football coach of Olympic College.

My father smiled slightly and then replied in a measured tone that he would need to call them back—he needed to talk with his father first. The chancellor, taken aback, agreed and said they would stay and wait in the room together for his return call.

By this time, my grandfather’s condition had worsened. Once the most disciplined person I’d ever known, my grandfather had been crushed by the loss of his wife. He had aged a decade in a few short months. His skin was gray, his eyes sunken, and his breath heavy with whiskey all day, every day. He was going to bed with his clothes still on and showing up to work in them the next day, un-pressed. When my dad told his father about the job offer in Washington, my grandfather looked away and replied, “I understand. Just do what you have to do, son.” The break in his voice gave him away.

My father knew what he had to do.

Five minutes after he was offered his dream job, my dad picked up the phone and called the chancellor. He said, “I have to decline your offer. I have to stay here to take care of my dad.” He hung the phone up and never looked back.

One thing I’ve always admired about my dad was that he always did the right thing when it mattered. That’s no easy task. Sometimes the right choice is a really, really hard one. It might mean doing something that costs you more than you’d like to pay. Sometimes, like for my father, the right choice meant the end. The end of the dream. The end of that particular ride.

But no matter what, when faced with those choices that are the hardest to make—when your dreams and your ambition and your drive are begging you to do one thing, and your conscience is telling you to do another—think of my father, and remember that the only way you’ll have an enduring smile is if you do the right thing.

DO… TRUST YOUR GUT

Once there was a man with a high-paying Wall Street dream job. He lived the high-powered, fast-paced, coveted life of a prosperous New Yorker.

One day, he was struck with an idea for a business. He already had a great job, so leaving it seemed risky. And certainly, a new business wouldn’t offer the perks of his current position.

But there was a problem: The idea just wouldn’t go away. Something about it stuck with him—he had a feeling he just needed to try.

The man told his boss at the firm about his risky startup idea. His boss, likely not wanting to lose a high-performing member of his firm, asked the man to take a walk with him through Central Park.

For the next two hours, at the leisurely pace only allowed to the most successful New Yorkers, his boss did everything he could to talk some sense into the man. He explained that if he left, he would be walking away from his sizeable annual bonus for that year. He said the man would be jeopardizing his reputation. He’d be putting his wealth at risk.

The boss’s final argument, the one that was certain to persuade an intelligent man about to make the biggest mistake of his life, was that while he thought an online bookstore was a “good idea,” it was a better idea for someone who didn’t already have a good job.

“Jeff,” he said. “Please. Just think about it for 48 hours before making a final decision.” So Jeff thought about it.

He asked himself if, when he was eighty years old, would he regret trying? No. He wouldn’t regret trying. He asked himself if he would regret if he failed? No. He wouldn’t regret failing.

In fact, the only thing he was certain he would regret was not trying. Not trying would haunt him every day.

“When I thought about it that way,” he would say later, “it was an incredibly easy decision.” So Jeff Bezos ignored his boss’s advice and pleas, left the security of his job on Wall Street, and started his online bookstore—the risky endeavor we now know as Amazon.

What would the world be like if Bezos had listened to his boss, if he hadn’t had the courage to ignore the naysayers, to believe in himself, and to step into entrepreneurialism?

Think about it this way, what will the world be like if you listen to the people around you, if you don’t have the courage to ignore the naysayers, to believe in yourself, and to step into the car of the entrepreneur roller coaster?

No Regrets

Jeff Bezos was wise to work through his decision using a framework to minimize regret because, at the end of our days, that’s what we’ll be thinking about.

Karl Pillemer, a professor at Cornell University, interviewed more than a thousand older Americans from different economic, educational, and occupational backgrounds and asked them to share the most valuable lessons they’d learned. Overwhelmingly, the focus wasn’t on what they did, but what they didn’t do. Of a thousand people in the later stages of life, what dominated their advice on the lessons of life was regret.

One man in his late eighties was asked: “If you could come back and live the life of anyone, who would you want to come back as?” His answer:

“I would want to come back as the man I could have been, but never was.” “Be the person you ‘could have been’ now.”

@DarrenHardy JoinTheRide

Wow. Don’t wait until you’re eighty and filled with regret. Be the person you “could have been” now.

DO… KEEP YOUR RESOLVE

There will come a time, if it hasn’t arrived already, when you will start to talk to others about your desire to hop on the entrepreneurial roller coaster—to climb this new mountain of yours.

With great enthusiasm you’ll tell them about your business idea. You’ll tell them about your dreams, your passion, and your hope for a bigger, brighter future.

These people—your friends, your family, people you love and respect—will listen. They’ll nod their heads and grunt small approvals from time to time. But as the conversation goes on, you might notice them fidget or shift in their seats.

They’re waiting for you to finish so they can say something like, “What? Are you crazy? You don’t know how to climb mountains! What are you thinking?” When you try to explain why you need to climb the mountains, they’ll say, “Look, I care about you. That is just too dangerous. You shouldn’t do that. You should just stick to your job. You are lucky to even have a job in this economy. Leave the mountains to someone else.” Their words will sting. And for a moment, you may even think they’re right—after all, these are the people who know you best.

“Approach your goals like this, ‘This is my mountain, and I’m going all the way to the top! You are either going to see me waving from the summit or lying dead on the side. I am not coming back!’ @DarrenHardy JoinTheRide

In that moment you are going to have to look them in the eye and say with complete conviction: No. This is my mountain, and I’m going all the way to the top!

With their criticisms still ringing in your ears, you’ll start climbing this mountain. Then others—more friends, other family members, parents at your kid’s soccer game, people at the country club—will comment. “You know,” they’ll say, “I heard that mountain is covered in rough terrain, and the weather is unpredictable. I’ve had friends who tried to climb a mountain like that before, and they fell off and were badly hurt. Their whole family suffered. They lost their home. They only have one car. It’s really bad. Look, I care about you. It’s best to just be safe and get off that mountain.” In that moment, you’re going to have to look them in the eye and say with complete conviction: No. This is my mountain, and I’m going all the way to the top!

As you continue climbing your mountain, still more people—so-called “friends” and people you barely know—will say, “Wow. You’ve been climbing that mountain for a while now, haven’t you? It doesn’t look like you’ve gotten very far. How long are you going to keep at it? Do you ever wish you hadn’t started?” And in that moment, as cracked as your fingers are, as heavy as your legs feel, you are going to have to look them in the eye and say: “THIS IS MY MOUNTAIN, AND I’M GOING ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP. YOU ARE EITHER GOING TO SEE ME WAVING FROM THE SUMMIT OR LYING DEAD ON THE SIDE. I AM NOT COMING BACK!” But all those comments? The skepticism? The loaded questions? They’re not the worst part. No, the eeriest feeling is when they stop asking altogether. When you are just a few weeks or even days from reaching the peak and there is a strange quiet.

Because at that point, the mountain-haters have moved on to someone else. They’re not even paying attention to you anymore.

You’re too far gone.

Now, it’s just you. You, your resolve, and the crisp mountain air.

And the top is within your grasp.

Keep your resolve. Don’t give up. Many entrepreneurs fail not because of their idea, their skill, or the market, but because they give up just when the summit is within reach.

Keep your resolve.

Push on.

And when you reach the top and you take in that incredible view, know that I will be there with you, camera in hand, just waiting to capture that smile.

DON’T… FORGET WHY

Business will change you.

You can’t ride the entrepreneur roller coaster and stay the same. That person who waits nervously at the ticket booth is never the same when he or she steps off the ride at the other end.

You’ll become smarter. More resilient. You’ll discover more confidence and build new skills. You’ll find that you can do things with ease that you never thought you could do at all.

Yes, business will change you. For the better.

But don’t forget who you are right now.

Don’t forget who you were the day you decided to ride the entrepreneur roller coaster.

Don’t forget the dream you had and the excitement you felt.

Don’t forget the day you stepped up to the tracks.

Most important of all, don’t forget why.

Because if you wait until the ride is over to smile, you won’t just have missed a great photo op.

You’ll have missed the point altogether.

Getting to the end of the ride is not the point. Being a successful rider isn’t the point either.

The point is enjoying the ride.

The point is riding for the sheer joy of it.

DO… SEEK YOUR GREATNESS

It was Jim Rohn who taught me the real point and purpose of life. He said, “The goal of this grand human adventure is productivity, pursuing the full development of all your potential. To see all that you can become with all you’ve been given.” You have been given great gifts. You are capable of awe-inspiring achievement and significant contribution to the people and world around you. You have a responsibility to use the potential you’ve been given, to apply it and grow it. Jim also warned: “Potential underutilized leads to pain.” What I know for sure is all you have achieved thus far is only a fraction of your real potential. Your current results are well below what you are truly capable of.

It’s time to step up.

Consider this book as your clarion call. The call to begin your grand adventure.

It’s time to start living the life you were designed for, the life you were meant to live.

It doesn’t matter what’s happened in the past or where you are starting now. Start right where you are. Start right now.

Decide now to step into your greatness and live as the powerful, courageous, bold, and audacious achiever you are.

Greatness is already inside you. You just need to release it and live in it, fully, every day.

You can. Starting. Right. Now.

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