Monday, you dig a hole. Tuesday, you fill it back in.
You build a wall that another crew tears down the following week.
Six months developing software to replace a spreadsheet. Everyone still uses the spreadsheet.
You automate a report that nobody reads.
Another meeting to prepare for another meeting.
A promotion because you're indispensable at a job you hate.
Sixty hours a week to afford a house you barely see.
The people involved might be hardworking, intelligent, and perfectly competent. The carpenter knows how to build the wall. The programmer knows how to write the software. The manager knows how to run the meeting. Everyone might be doing exactly what they're supposed to do.
You can become extraordinarily good at doing something that never needed doing.
There's a peculiar paradox hiding in that observation. The more capable you are, the more effectively you can pursue an inadequately examined outcome. Your intelligence, determination, experience, and willingness to work hard can carry you further down a road you never should have taken.
We celebrate people who overcome obstacles. We reward execution, persistence, and the ability to get things done. Those are valuable qualities, but they can also become extraordinarily powerful servants of an outcome that nobody thought to question.
The Plausible Outcome Problem
Human beings are often better at pursuing a plausible outcome than at determining whether it's the outcome worth pursuing.
Give us a destination, and we'll figure out how to get there. Once an outcome seems reasonable, our attention shifts from considering possibilities to solving the problems associated with the one we've selected.
This is what I call the Plausible Outcome Problem (Pop).
Our minds are remarkably good at finding workable solutions and getting on with things. We rely on that ability every day, often without realizing it.
But the same cognitive shortcuts that help us navigate ordinary life can prevent us from imagining extraordinary alternatives.
The outcome doesn't have to be wrong. It only has to be reasonable enough to get us moving. Before long, we've invested time, money, effort, and perhaps a substantial portion of our identity in making it happen.
Now imagine that every plausible outcome is a balloon.
You inflate it with assumptions, expectations, plans, and ambitions. Other people admire it, encourage you, and sometimes help you inflate it. As the balloon grows, so does your attachment to it.
Eventually, it becomes something you don't want to lose.
Pop.
The balloon may have represented a perfectly good outcome. But popping it breaks your attachment long enough to imagine alternatives. You can always return to the original idea, assuming it survives the competition.
The first plausible outcome doesn't deserve to become the only imaginable outcome.
The Thinking That Comes After
I've written previously about the seven phases of first-principles thinking. The practice involves examining what we actually know, challenging assumptions, reconsidering constraints, and exploring possibilities that familiar ways of thinking might overlook.
But you could learn all seven phases and never spend a day as a first-principles thinker.
Knowing how to question assumptions doesn't guarantee you'll recognize when to begin questioning them. You may already be halfway through accomplishing something before wondering whether it deserved your effort.
That's why I want you to develop the habit of popping balloons.
Pop creates the opening. First-principles thinking gives you a way to explore what becomes possible afterward.
Pop, Pop, Pop
Remember, Pop stands for Plausible Outcome Problem. It's the tendency to accept a reasonable outcome before adequately exploring the alternatives.
Imagine a balloon whenever you hear something that sounds sensible enough to pursue.
You need a college degree to get a good job. Pop.
You need a better job to make more money. Pop.
You need more money to be happier. Pop.
You need a bigger house for a growing family. Pop.
You need to work harder to get ahead. Pop.
Your business needs more customers to grow. Pop.
Your struggling business needs to cut costs. Pop.
Your best employee deserves a promotion. Pop.
Your new product needs more features. Pop.
Now consider the balloons that are less obvious, especially the ones you've already invested years inflating.
Your problem needs a solution. Pop.
The problem you're solving is the right problem. Pop.
The future you're planning is the future you want. Pop.
Your greatest strength is helping you succeed. Pop.
Your goal is worth achieving. Pop.
You know what success looks like. Pop.
Think about the last few. A career you've spent twenty years building. A business you've invested everything in. A goal you've worked toward for half your life.
Perhaps the most uncomfortable balloon is one you've already achieved. You worked hard, overcame obstacles, and accomplished exactly what you set out to do. Everyone congratulates you.
Would you be willing to ask whether it was worth doing?
Pop Comes Before Pursue
The moment you find yourself figuring out how to achieve something is a good moment to ask whether it's worth achieving.
That's your trigger.
A plan begins taking shape. Pop.
A career starts looking inevitable. Pop.
Someone tells you what success should look like. Pop.
You don't need to abandon the original outcome or immediately invent a better one. You've simply interrupted the pursuit long enough to make room for possibilities that hadn't yet occurred to you.
With practice, the interruption can become a reflex. You'll begin recognizing plausible outcomes before you've invested so much in them that questioning them feels like giving something up.
Then, if the question deserves serious examination, you have first-principles thinking and its seven phases available to you.
Your original outcome may turn out to be the best one. Or you might discover something you never imagined was possible.
Either way, the next time a perfectly reasonable outcome starts taking shape in your imagination, picture the balloon.
Pop comes before pursue.
Thoughts, ideas, judgement, and editorial guidelines by Bruce Warila. Written with the help of Chat GPT.