July 16, 2024 | Read Online

How to Solve A Problem When Nothing Seems to Work

Most solutions are worthless, except this one...

Welcome to One Thing Better. Each week, the editor in chief of Entrepreneur magazine (that's me) shares one way to be more successful and satisfied — and build a career or company you love.

Today's one thing: Solving a big problem

That one thing, better: Solving the right part of the problem

Made with ChatGPT 4

You're trying to solve a big problem. But nothing seems to work.

Here's why: When we solve problems, we often start with the easiest part, or with the stuff we know how to do best. Then we work our way up.

But that's often the wrong approach. Every big problem has one fundamental challenge — and if you don't know what thing is, then you're just wasting your time.

We'll call this thing the monkey. You must know your monkey.

So, let me introduce you to it.

What the monkey really is

"The monkey" is part of a metaphor that goes like this…

Imagine getting a crazy assignment at work: You must teach a monkey to recite Shakespeare while standing on a pedestal.

Now, ask yourself: What's the first thing you should do?

"Build the pedestal," you might say.

That sounds logical. The pedestal is what we call low-hanging fruit — the small, easy, satisfying stuff that we love to tackle first, because it gives us a sense of progress.

But that's the wrong answer.

"There is no point in building pedestals if you can't solve for the monkey," writes behavioral researcher Annie Duke, who I first learned this from.

It's true: You could build the world's greatest pedestal… but what's the point if a monkey can't learn to recite Shakespeare?

In other words, the monkey and the pedestal are two different kinds of solutions…

The monkey is the pivotal part of any problem — and if you don't solve for the monkey, nothing else you do matters.

The pedestal is everything else you do to solve the problem — often because it's easier, less scary, or more obvious than the monkey.

Now here's the thing: Oftentimes, we're not actually avoiding the monkey.

Instead, we're so consumed by our problem — and so overwhelmed! — that we haven't even stopped to consider what the monkey is.

That's the point of this exercise. You need to step back and ask yourself: What's my monkey?

The answer might surprise you.

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How to find a monkey

Before you go hunting for your own monkey, it's helpful to hear how other people found theirs. So here are a few examples.

The "monkey and pedestal" concept comes out of Google X, the innovation laboratory where Google tackles its most ambitious projects. Whenever they explore a new idea, they want to know: What's the monkey here? By answering that question, they'll know whether a project is worth doing.

Google X's CEO, Astro Teller, offers an interesting example in this blog post. His team once tried to turn seawater into carbon-neutral liquid fuel — a potential game-changer of an idea.

So what's the monkey there?

You might think it's the technology that turns seawater into fuel — but, no! That is "relatively straightforward," Teller writes. The technology is the pedestal. Instead, the monkey is this: Can seawater fuel be made cheap enough for people to buy it? Because if it can't, the technology itself is pointless.

Ultimately, his team realized the answer was no: The economics of the project didn't work. So Google X killed it.

Now you see: The monkey isn't always that obvious. But it's always critical.

To find your money, I suggest asking this question: "If I solved this problem and it was a great success, what major change would have gotten me there?"

In other words, what bottleneck did you clear out? What critical hurdle did you overcome? That's your monkey.

Now here's what the monkey looks like in other situations…

Other people's monkeys

Made with ChatGPT 4

I've started to share this metaphor with friends and colleagues, and it prompted the most interesting conversations.

Here are three:

The unhappy founder

I was recently consulting for an entrepreneur named Stephanie (not her real name), who co-founded a food brand with her cousin. It's gone OK, but not as great as she hoped, so Stephanie has been exploring a pivot — doing endless research, calling many experts, and stressing herself out.

Stephanie and I spent 30 minutes talking about her pivot, and whether any of them can work. Then she revealed something: Her cousin has a totally different idea for a pivot, which she disagrees with. The cousins haven't talked about this in months, because Stephanie is hoping to find a new solution that her cousin will love.

"Wait a second," I said. "Your cousin is the monkey."

Stephanie's eyes went wide. She realized it was true.

Pivots are hard — but you know what's harder? Resolving disagreements with a cofounder, especially if they're family. "Nothing you do will solve this problem until you talk to your cousin," I said. Everything else is just a pedestal.

The unhappy relationship

I was recently catching up with an old friend, and told her about the monkey and pedestal.

"It's funny," she said. "I know that's supposed to be about work, but it applies well to my relationship."

She's been dating a guy for two years, and something isn't working. So for the past few months, they've been doing things they like to do together — hiking, exploring, finding fun restaurants — hoping to rekindle the spark.

They're enjoying this time together, but the relationship itself still feels fractured. She wasn't sure why — until she thought about what the monkey in her relationship is.

Turns out, it's an incompatibility they're both aware of — but both afraid to talk about. And until they resolve it, no amount of fun dates will ever suffice.

My unhappy schedule

This newsletter goes out on Tuesday mornings. Oftentimes, this means I'm obsessively editing it on Monday nights while my wife keeps texting me: "Bed! It's time for bed!"

In theory, this shouldn't happen. I plan ahead — I block 9 am to 11 am every Wednesday and Thursday to write next week's newsletter. So what's the problem?

To answer that, I reflected upon how I actually use that time. And I realized something: I don't start it by writing my newsletter! Instead, I start it by furiously replying to emails, DMs, and comments on my latest LinkedIn post, because all that stuff feels productive.

But no! Those things aren't productive! These things are pedestals, stealing my time! Even blocking things off on my calendar is a pedestal, because it's lulled me into a sense of unearned accomplishment!

The monkey is actually committing to deep work… because if I can't produce good content, then I have nothing. I must work on my monkey.

So, where's your monkey?

As I said at the beginning: You're trying to solve a big problem. But nothing you do seems to work.

Now you know why: You're working on pedestals.

You could build a million pedestals, but you won't be remembered or celebrated for them. Your success is dependent upon monkeys.

So, ask yourself: What part of your problem is so fundamental, and so critical, that nothing else will matter until you solve it?

I'm not saying this is easy. In fact, it'll be the hardest work you do — leading to deep conversations, long hours, and difficult decisions. But this stuff deserves your focus and attention, because it is the only true way forward.

Don't settle for the illusion of progress. Strive for actual progress.

Get that monkey.

That's how to do one thing better.

P.S. Did you miss last week's newsletter? It's about how to speak confidently when you don't feel confident. Read here.

P.P.S. Want brand partnerships and sponsors? Maybe you make a podcast or newsletter, are putting on an event, or doing anything else that could involve sponsors. This Thursday, July 18 at noon EST, I'm hosting a call about how to secure them — even if you don't have a large audience! It's happening in my One Thing Better community, where we'll be joined by my friend Mario Armstrong, who's secured more than $4 million in sponsorships and now teaches how to do it. Want to join? Just join the community, and then login info is here.

P.P.P.S. This book makes me LOL. It's called The Lemon — a satire about foodie culture and the media hype machine, written by some friends under a pseudonym. I'm halfway through right now. If you're looking for a light, fun escape this summer, I recommend it.

P.P.P.P.S. How to write a song. I often recommend this podcast episode to friends: A newbie songwriter struggles to write a song, so Ben Folds steps in to help. It's super insightful, and reveals the true craft of songwriting.