The worst place to be in a negotiation is under pressure.
For example, imagine that you are in desperate need of a tuxedo for a wedding this evening, and the store clerk you hope to buy one from has already hit their sales quota for the month.
Who is better poised to walk away with a good deal?
Even in situations that don’t feel like negotiations, pressure narrows our choices and makes us act out of fear.
A future valedictorian with a 4.0 GPA and dreams of the Ivy League cannot afford to miss any assignments, but a C student can.
A corporate executive with a mortgage and family cannot afford to criticize a toxic company culture, but a 25-year old living with their parents can.
Paradoxically, the more we care about something, the less power we have over it.
Nowhere is this more true than at work.
In a culture that pushes us to define ourselves by our careers, any professional setback can feel existential. If my core identity is “employee at X company”, then a clunky presentation or bad interview isn’t just a setback, it’s a threat to who I am – and that kind of pressure will lead me to:
- Over-analyze every interaction for critical feedback
- Stress over minor presentations
- Say what people want to hear instead of what I really think
This is exactly what Steve Magness warns about in a Wall Street Journal essay:
“As we shed other parts of ourselves, and that one activity becomes an ever bigger presence, fear starts to take over. We don’t just want to succeed. We have to… Fear of failure rises and moves from ‘I failed’ to ‘I am a failure.'”
When your identity is tied to one thing, failure in that area isn’t just painful – it’s personal.
Conversely, if work is just one piece of a larger identity – one that includes being a husband, friend, writer or athlete – then failures at work lose their power. Feedback from a boss is weighed against feedback from family and friends. A bad presentation is offset by a marathon PR or good piece of writing. And values become easier to adhere to with the realization that no job is irreplaceable.
As Magness puts it:
“Any activities or perspectives that give complexity to our self-image help send a message to our brain that the thing in front of us is important, but it’s not all that matters.”
A diverse set of hobbies or interests releases pressure from the areas of life that are most important to us.
The same principle that wins negotiations – having the ability to walk away – applies to life as a whole. When we build multiple sources of fulfillment, we don’t just protect ourselves from pressure, we give ourselves the freedom to act with confidence.
I have experienced this firsthand with my newsletter, which has given me a deep well of fulfillment to tap into whenever I face a setback elsewhere in my life. Despite writing for a relatively small audience by internet standards, just one email from a reader reminds me that my identity isn’t tied to a job title, a single project, or a bad day. And that perspective changes everything.
Work, relationships, and personal pursuits all feel lighter when they’re part of a bigger whole. When we define ourselves by just one thing, we lose perspective. But when we build a broader identity, we don’t just reduce pressure – we think more clearly, perform better, and enjoy life more.
Or, to put it more simply, in the words of a gym-going friend:
“Who cares, he doesn’t even lift.”
– Emmett
What I’m Reading:
It’ll Never Be Enough Until You Decide It’s Enough – Brendan Leonard
“I try to tell myself that being here on the floor with my little guy is enough. Because what could be happening on my phone that could possibly be more important than watching this little amateur human being mispronouncing ‘construction’ as we’re sitting on the floor for a few minutes before he heads off to day care? For now, this is enough.”
The Red Hand Files #318 – Nick Cave
“You are in service to your creative impulses – and by the same token to God – but you are also in service to the world as it presents itself, and to those entrusted to you. This is a point of honour. It is with a hard-earned understanding, and the most profound regret, that I can tell you that no artistic endeavour, no matter how sublime it may appear, is worth denying your family or sacrificing those in your care.”