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From Unscripted , Chapter 38: Unscripted: Life Liberty and the Pursuit of Entrepreneurship
It’s you against your opponent.
You’re in a clearing inside a dark forest. In the spirit of The Hunger Games, your objective is to kill your opponent. Knowing this day would come, you’ve prepared for two years. During this time, you’ve prepared by reading dozens of books while also becoming a proficient marksman competent in jujitsu.
The gamemaster stands before you. You and your competitor are presented with a table of ten weapons...
a crossbow,
a ball-peen hammer,
a samurai sword,
a sniper rifle with unlimited ammo,
a large plastic bag,
a baseball bat autographed by Pete Rose,
a serrated hunting knife,
a tire iron,
a canister of pepper spray,
and a cattle prod.
The gamemaster offers a choice: pick two weapons. Based on your recently learned skills, you logically decide on the knife and the sniper rifle. Strangely, your opponent chooses the pepper spray and the plastic bag.
The gamemaster nods and announces the game has begun. After saddling up your gear, you head north into the forest, your opponent south.
After an hour of walking (and strategizing), your trek is interrupted by an artificial hissing noise heard beyond the ravine ahead of you. You quietly drop to your stomach, taking a tactical position behind a piece of driftwood.
Armed with your sniper scope, you aim your sight at the source. It’s your competitor and he’s inexplicably spraying his plastic sheet with pepper spray.
Hmm, that’s odd. Nonetheless, it’s your chance to take him out.
But before you can angle your body for the shot, you hear another noise—not a hiss but a buzz, subtle at first but intensifying by the second. You gather to your feet and look around. You see nothing, but the buzz crescendos louder. The sky darkens and it’s not the clouds.
You crane your head skyward and see it: a black mass, swarming and large.
Oh shit. It’s killer bees and they’re heading your way.
You fire your rifle into the mass, hoping the noise redirects them. Nothing.
Shit! Find cover! A river! Something!
You sprint out into the ravine, knowing you have about eleven-seconds to find refuge. Unfortunately, eleven-seconds is faster than you.
The black cloud engulfs you.
Your hands flail in a frenzy, one of them armed with your knife. You strike a bee dead—but two billion remain. Every inch of your body rages as if being burned alive. You slump to your knees and crumple over in the fetal position as the suffocating venom invades. As everything fades to a burnt black, death welcomely arrives after an eternal minute.”
Your comrade in competition?
He survives the swarm…under the cover of a plastic bag that stinks of capsicum.
===============
The moral of this tale parallels the perils of execution: you simply won’t know what’s needed until you need it. The odds of picking the right weapons before they’re needed are about as far-fetched as someone picking pepper spray and plastic for the forest. In the end, we confuse preparation and busywork for execution, when the real mettle comes from entering the forest and experiencing firsthand what the game demands.
Identify the problem or the challenge and then act.
Stop the action-faking...
One more book...
One more podcast...
One more logo design...
One more research study...
Unlike the death forest, we can choose the tools needed based on the encounter. Unfortunately, none of us here have no clue what your business is or might be. We can only offer a solid foundation and the best practices making your forested venture expected and manageable.
It’s you against your opponent.
You’re in a clearing inside a dark forest. In the spirit of The Hunger Games, your objective is to kill your opponent. Knowing this day would come, you’ve prepared for two years. During this time, you’ve prepared by reading dozens of books while also becoming a proficient marksman competent in jujitsu.
The gamemaster stands before you. You and your competitor are presented with a table of ten weapons...
a crossbow,
a ball-peen hammer,
a samurai sword,
a sniper rifle with unlimited ammo,
a large plastic bag,
a baseball bat autographed by Pete Rose,
a serrated hunting knife,
a tire iron,
a canister of pepper spray,
and a cattle prod.
The gamemaster offers a choice: pick two weapons. Based on your recently learned skills, you logically decide on the knife and the sniper rifle. Strangely, your opponent chooses the pepper spray and the plastic bag.
The gamemaster nods and announces the game has begun. After saddling up your gear, you head north into the forest, your opponent south.
After an hour of walking (and strategizing), your trek is interrupted by an artificial hissing noise heard beyond the ravine ahead of you. You quietly drop to your stomach, taking a tactical position behind a piece of driftwood.
Armed with your sniper scope, you aim your sight at the source. It’s your competitor and he’s inexplicably spraying his plastic sheet with pepper spray.
Hmm, that’s odd. Nonetheless, it’s your chance to take him out.
But before you can angle your body for the shot, you hear another noise—not a hiss but a buzz, subtle at first but intensifying by the second. You gather to your feet and look around. You see nothing, but the buzz crescendos louder. The sky darkens and it’s not the clouds.
You crane your head skyward and see it: a black mass, swarming and large.
Oh shit. It’s killer bees and they’re heading your way.
You fire your rifle into the mass, hoping the noise redirects them. Nothing.
Shit! Find cover! A river! Something!
You sprint out into the ravine, knowing you have about eleven-seconds to find refuge. Unfortunately, eleven-seconds is faster than you.
The black cloud engulfs you.
Your hands flail in a frenzy, one of them armed with your knife. You strike a bee dead—but two billion remain. Every inch of your body rages as if being burned alive. You slump to your knees and crumple over in the fetal position as the suffocating venom invades. As everything fades to a burnt black, death welcomely arrives after an eternal minute.”
Your comrade in competition?
He survives the swarm…under the cover of a plastic bag that stinks of capsicum.
===============
The moral of this tale parallels the perils of execution: you simply won’t know what’s needed until you need it. The odds of picking the right weapons before they’re needed are about as far-fetched as someone picking pepper spray and plastic for the forest. In the end, we confuse preparation and busywork for execution, when the real mettle comes from entering the forest and experiencing firsthand what the game demands.
Identify the problem or the challenge and then act.
Stop the action-faking...
One more book...
One more podcast...
One more logo design...
One more research study...
Unlike the death forest, we can choose the tools needed based on the encounter. Unfortunately, none of us here have no clue what your business is or might be. We can only offer a solid foundation and the best practices making your forested venture expected and manageable.
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