Welcome to One Thing Better. Each week, the editor in chief of Entrepreneur magazine (that's me) shares one way to achieve a breakthrough at work — and build a career or company you love.
Today's edition is sponsored by OuterSignal, which gives you details on all your online customers — and instantly detects VIP customers. See details below.
Hey, OTB community. I just wrapped up a month of summer travel, and was reflecting on one of the strangest travel moments I've ever had — exactly 20 years ago. It inspired today's newsletter…
↓
Someone wronged you.
Maybe they insulted you. Hurt you. Ripped you off. Wounded your pride.
Whatever it was, you can't let it go. You imagine them smug and successful, celebrating your pain — and you seethe.
Today, I'll help you let go.
To do it, I'll share a personal story from 20 years ago — about a very unexpected scam I fell for. It taught me something profound about human nature that changed how I think about the worst interactions I have.
Because here's what I learned: Life is not an emotional zero-sum game. When people do you wrong, they don't always gain anything. In fact, they might be hurting much more than you are.
The $300 that disappeared
In 2005, when I was 25, my family went on vacation to Australia. I gave myself a mission: I was going to buy a didgeridoo, one of those long aboriginal instruments.
Near Cairns, I found a shop run by a guy named Richard. He showed me a beautiful four-foot-long didgeridoo that I loved.
I took this photo with it:
But when I went to pay, Richard said his credit card machine was broken. If I paid in cash, he'd give me 15% off.
I ran to an ATM and came back with $300, which was a lot of money to me. Richard said he'd mail the didgeridoo to my home in the States. After all, did I want to lug this thing around for the rest of my trip? I didn't.
When I returned home a few weeks later, though, no package awaited. I called Richard's store; there was no answer. I emailed, but got no response. I started to panic.
I tracked down the store's landlord, who told me that Richard packed up and fled one night, owing months of unpaid rent. The landlord hired a private investigator, so I got in touch with that guy too. But the trail was cold.
My $300 loss stung. My missing souvenir made me sad. But mostly, I just hated feeling fooled. I imagined Richard on the lam, flush with the cash of trusting tourists.
At a loss for any other action, I filed a report with the Cairns police.
But I also had to admit: I'd been defeated. I moved on.
But here's who didn't move on:
It was the Cairns police department.
Eight years later, in 2013, Richard registered for a driver's license and triggered my dusty criminal complaint. An officer named Constable Walsh emailed me: "I've been tasked with investigating this offence; do you still wish to proceed with your complaint?"
I was dumbstruck. I was now married, had built a career, and could afford $300 mistakes. Did I really still want justice for this?
I decided yes.
Constable Walsh asked for paperwork to prove the crime, but I had nothing. The receipts were lost to time. I emailed him the bad news, but begged for a consolation prize: Could he tell me anything about Richard's life now?
Before I went to bed, an email from Walsh came back: "I'll call him and see what he tells me."
I awoke the next morning to find an email from Richard himself.
"I am glad to be able to contact you, at long last," he wrote.
The story behind the story
This was what I'd spent years chasing. It was like facing the evil villain at the end of a movie, finally hearing how the scheme came to be!
I wrote Richard back, quizzing him. Why did he leave? Where did he go? Did he always plan to rip me off?
"My plan was to stay there and operate a successful business," he replied. But he lacked financial skills, had gotten evicted at home, was going through a breakup, and had untreated attention deficit disorder. So everything fell apart.
Finally, eight years later, I had an answer. But it wasn't the one I expected. Why did Richard rip me off? Simple desperation.
What we don't see in others' pain
This taught me something that research psychologist Brené Brown articulates beautifully: "Hurt people hurt people." But as she also notes, "We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behavior."
When someone wrongs us, we create elaborate narratives about their motivations. We imagine them as calculating villains who gain pleasure from our pain. But the truth is often much simpler and sadder: They're struggling with something we can't see.
Psychologist Marshall Rosenberg spent decades studying human conflict. He found that behind every hurtful action is an unmet need — for security, recognition, autonomy, or connection. As he put it: "All violence is a tragic expression of unmet needs."
Here's what I realized: I had been operating under what I think of as a "zero-sum emotional fallacy" — the belief that when someone hurts us, they must be benefiting somehow. That their gain justifies our pain.
But life isn't a zero-sum game. Richard didn't rip me off because he was living his best life. He did it because his life was falling apart.
After answering my questions by email, Richard offered to wire me $300. He said he wanted to put this behind him. I accepted, wished him well, then I told Constable Walsh that I'd drop the case.
"Great news," the policeman replied. "Best of luck in your travels."
What I now try to remember
I've been hurt many times since. But now, I always think about the person who wronged me and ask myself: "What is motivating them? And would I trade places with them?"
The answer is: I don't know. And probably not.
I'm not telling you something new here, of course. You know this. But in those heated moments, when a person cuts us off in traffic or a colleague snaps at us, it can be a useful reminder. Is that bad driver rushing home to an emergency? Is that colleague dealing with a family crisis?
Nothing justifies bad action. But this thinking can help us feel less bad.
And feeling less bad means spending less energy.
Spending less energy means preserving that energy, so that it can be put toward more productive uses.
When we can see past our own pain, we can recognize the pain of others. Then we free ourselves from carrying it.
That's how to do one thing better.
My friends just revolutionized online sales...
Finally, you can know EXACTLY who's buying your products online...
OuterSignal instantly detects purchases from VIP customers buys — just tell it who you want to monitor for!
Maybe you want to see purchases from...
- Influencers
- Decision-makers at retail chains
- Investors
- Newsletter writers (lol)
Even crazier: OuterSignal gives you a full profile and bio on EVERY customer. Now you can see gender, age, occupation, social following, hobbies, and beyond.
That means you can personalize messaging to customers at unprecedented scale.
My friend Zach built this and it's blowing up. I know many founders who use it and are seeing wild results.
FREE TRIAL for One Thing Better readers: OuterSignal is offering 1,000 free search credits, so you can experience how amazing it is.
To get it, just book a demo with them today and tell them I sent you!
Final notes for today...
P.S. Want to future-proof your career or brand? Hear me on the Soul & Science Podcast on YouTube, Apple, or wherever you get podcasts.
P.P.S. I'll be judging an awesome pitch competition at Alibaba's CoCreate conference in Vegas on Sept 4-5. It's a fantastic event. Join me and use code SPEAKER20 for 20% off!
P.P.P.S. Be kind, and send this newsletter to someone who needs it! Forward to them, or just send the link to today's edition — you can find it on my page here.
P.P.P.S. Miss last week's newsletter? It was about how to master your superpowers. Read.
That's all for this week! See you next Tuesday.
No comments:
Post a Comment