Do we all think we’re superhuman, or are we just terrible at time management?
Sharkuesday 001 – Rule Breaker Snacks
It’s Shark Week on Discovery. I love Shark Week. I also love Shark Tank on ABC. I also love sharks. The ones that live in the ocean, not on a TV channel. In honor of all of my passions, I’m starting the Sharkuesday* series today. Let’s get sharky.
What I’m going to do on Sharkuesdays is analyze a pitch on Shark Tank in which the entrepreneur got tripped up because of their lies. They might be lies the entrepreneur told the sharks (hello inflated evaluations). Or they might be lies that swam around in the entrepreneur’s head. I smell blood in the water…
* Sharkuesday, pronounced like you’re about to say Charcuterie, but before you get to “terie” you transition into the DAY. Or for my visual learners: shar-KOOZ-day.
Sharkuesday 001 – Rule Breaker Snacks.
You know you’ve settled into a delectable 10 minutes of television when within the first minute eggs are being thrown at the wall.
Nancy Kalish makes better-for-you cookies that are free of all the “bad stuff” and rely on chickpeas for their power.
The first lie is obvious. Her cookies are tiny but still rack up 250 calories. When asked by Daymond how many calories a similar cookie with the “bad stuff” would come out to, she claims it would be at least 300 or 400 calories. She’s quickly corrected by Mark – for her size it wouldn’t be more than 190.
But that lie is pennies in the bucket. What I find far more interesting is the lie she tells herself when she talks about her origin story. She used to be an editor at Cosmo, but was getting tired of journalism. So she said to herself, “How hard could it be to start a food company? I’ll do that.”
I’ve never started a food company but food pitches on Shark Tank make me think that it must be the seventh circle of hell.
Nancy corrects her lie by stating that she realized starting a food company is brutal. Mark makes a joke that saying that it’s brutal is an understatement. And Nancy laughs - seventh circle of hell style.
Okay, let’s unpack this.
The last time I was in the throes of the apartment hunt, I found a gorgeous place at an absolute bargain of a price.
The only catch? Google Maps said it was a 21 minute walk to the subway.
But I thought if maybe I took a shortcut here and J-walked there I’d be able to cut it down to a solid 15. So I decided to test it.
I strapped on my sneakers and blasted heavy metal through my headphones to increase my tempo. I took the subway steps two at a time and skirted around the slow-walkers. When I arrived at the apartment I checked my stopwatch.
21 minutes.
Do we all think we’re superhuman, or are we just terrible at time management?
Nancy and I both suffered from a classic case of optimism bias. When we’re passionate about something, or see the potential, or are just head over heels in love, it gets really easy to lie to ourselves. We think starting a new venture will be a lot easier than it actually is. Or, my personal favorite, we agree that it’s statistically been hard for other people, but are adamant that it won’t be hard for us.
Because planning for the reality that there will most likely be stop signs, red lights, kids in strollers, blisters on your feet, and tourists taking pictures on your route is unsavory. It’s much more scrumptious to imagine that we might indeed be a wizard, we just haven’t received our letter from Hogwarts yet.
Optimism is important. It’s what lights us up and blitzes us out of bed in the morning. Nancy said herself that she gets out of bed every morning with innate excitement to go sell her cookies. That’s pure optimism.
However, if Google Maps were that optimistic it would send me into the Hudson every time I drive to Jersey, convinced it could give me wings.
Barbara said it best:
What I love about [Nancy] is that you’re so damn happy. But that same optimism is what got you into the debt in the first place.
Oh, by the way, at the time of filming Nancy was in debt for $2.35 million. Of her own money. Aka, a lot of cookies.
If you’re currently at the bottom of a mountain you’re stoked to climb, it might be wise to factor in the blizzards you’re going to encounter along the way. Whether that mountain is a career change, or a renovation project, or a passion project. Assume that the blizzards will come.
Or to put it into practice today, if you’re meeting a friend for drinks tonight, factor in 10 extra minutes to get there. Who knows, maybe you’ll show up on time.
Do we all think we’re superhuman, or are we just terrible at time management?
I'm guilty of assuming optimism when really I should just take the fucking step myself instead of "hoping it will all turn out alright."