When
I was a freshman at the University of New Hampshire, the business school
brought in a series of successful entrepreneurs to speak to (and hopefully
inspire) the new students. One speaker, Patricia Gallup, CEO of PC Connection
(personal computer/accessories direct marketer mega-giant), said something
that stuck with me over the years. Gallup revealed that PC Connection
was not her first business, and that she had in fact driven several
other start-ups into the ground. She said that she learned a lot from
these failures, knowledge that she would use to found and run PC Connection,
but that still doesn’t change the fact that for several years failure
is all that she experienced.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I could give a shit about starting a business now—and back then, too. That sort of thing just isn’t my bag. What never left me, though, was the air of confidence that followed Gallup around. She wasn’t some charming snake-oil salesman, nor was she particularly charismatic in any way. But she was bold; this much became apparent only a few sentences into her introduction. She conceptualized failure in a way that I had never seen before, as a necessary step to inevitable success. There were no excuses made for the failures, no blame on circumstances or other individuals: they were what they were, and she was comfortable with that.
About a year ago, my father and I were having a discussion about my future plans. He is very open about what he perceives to be his own shortcomings, and insists that I learn from his mistakes. In his opinion, the chief mistake of his life has been his timidity: he was never bold enough to take major risks, to put himself out there, before the judging eyes of others, on less than stable ground. According to my father (who is, in my opinion, a genius), he learned Gallup’s lesson too late in life: very successful people are very bold people, and the timid rarely get what they want.
Gallup’s confidence seemed to stem from a deep-seated belief that she would get what she wanted, no matter what. Was this overconfidence? Yeah, probably. But in the end, who cares? Look at where that’s gotten her. Now, imagine where timidity would have gotten her given her repeated disappointments. Right.
But getting over timidity is a bitch. In my opinion, confidence like Gallup’s only comes when you’ve failed so much that the common sting associated with failure just isn’t there anymore, or that it’s at least sufficiently dulled. When you can handle failure, you won’t focus on it, and you’ll look past it to (what you are sure will be) your eventual success. And yes, this sort of self-assuredness will draw out the cynics, the wet blankets, those who live to remind others that disaster and ruin are but a few short steps away. These people—all of whom are timid themselves—are bullies, cowards who stifle those who threaten to leave their frightened ranks.
Fuck them. What have cowards ever done?
James C. is a wrestling and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu coach in Chicago. He will be beginning law school this fall.
