People are weird. Our lives of abundance have meant we often feel compelled to satisfy ourselves in illogical ways with our hobbies.

Col is three sheds deep into a scientific enquiry into how humans often love buying stuff more than they like having it or using it.

This episode is a sprawling ode to that deeply relatable, slightly unhinged truth. Humans have strange and dumb ways of finding joy and distraction in our post-capitalist hellscape of privilege.

Also, is anyone out there willing to admit they spent $500 on a pair of running shoes?

Some childhood beliefs leave quietly. Others wait until you’re an adult to slap you in the face.

The moments of realisation tend to stick in the mind, too.

I turned beetroot red during my turn for roll-call in grade 2. It’s pronounced Penelope, not Penny-lope. (Mispronouncing words you learned reading is a whole sub-genre here. Good luck, Siobhan)

Col’s primary school mate Tim thought bands played their hit songs live at the radio station for every broadcast.

I genuinely slapped my forehead when I realised pipe-cleaners aren’t just for craft. They also… clean pipes.

The beauty of these childish realisations is they continue into adulthood. Hopefully at reduced frequency. There’s a great xkcd comic about treating these moments with reverence. If you laugh at someone’s embarrassing adult discovery you’re training them not to tell you next time. And you miss out on the fun.

I first saw a pineapple plant with Ed in Thailand in my mid 30s. It blew my mind. I thought they grew like bananas! (Please comment if you’re just now finding out they grow on the central stalk of a spiky bush. See also: cashew nuts.)

There’s a right way and a wrong way to tie your shoelaces (I’m going to make a video about this). Blake’s shoelaces kept coming undone on our New Zealand hiking trip. I gently enquired about his technique. “I’ve been tying my own shoelaces for TWENTY FIVE years Cam!! I know how to do it!!”. He did not.

On a camping holiday in the mid ‘10s, we discovered TWO people in our group independently thought molasses was a type of sea creature. They were both from the UK. Coincidence??

Also, the frozen bananas in The Simpsons are sold AT THE AQUARIUM.

Embarrassing adult realisations are a source of immense joy. Once the shame dissipates.

We’d love to hear your best “Wait…. WHAT??” moments.

Your workshop isn’t a suitcase. Stop overpacking it.

You’re trying to provide value. So you cram in every model, every framework, every brain nugget you’ve ever loved.

The result? A learning day that’s chokkas.

No space to breathe. No time to reflect. No energy left by 2pm.

In this episode of The Fink Tank, recorded during the lunch break on the second day of Col's 2 day summit, we talk about the urge to overstuff, why it comes from a good place, and how to fight it.

Shoutout to the random guy who got in the lift with us at 45s. And Deb Bailey.

The amazing satirical commentators H.G. and Roy host a long running radio program called This Sporting Life.

Their tagline is “Too much sport is barely enough”

With facilitation and training it’s sometimes the opposite:

“Barely enough stuff is too much.”

It started with our shit original band and stupid holiday videos. Now it’s keynotes, coaching, and feature films.

Compound interest isn’t just about money.

In this mid-summit episode of the Fink Tank, Col and I chat about the cruel human condition of being overly critical of our progress or growth.

About how we underplay our past accomplishments in our journeys toward mastery. This whole room of solo pros deliberately and meaningfully joined the dots of their history. And were called out on pointless self-deprecation!

It's really gratifying to reflect on the timeline of your accumulated skills.

Try it!

Eight years ago, I deleted an entire keynote I’d just filmed for Tracey Ezard.

Not a file. Not a clip.

The whole keynote. Gone. Like a magician, but sad.

It felt career-ending.

Tracey, somehow, was kind and forgiving. I, in return, filmed her next keynote free-of-charge and built a shame-fuelled foolproof backup system.

It has never happened again. Mostly because I now treat footage like a live organ transplant.

We all make mistakes. It doesn't feel like it in the moment, but there aren’t many you can’t come back from. I filmed another keynote for Tracey a few weeks ago. She’s still awesome.

This week on The Fink Tank, Col Fink and I set the scene with some glorious childhood dickheadery.

What’s the worst you’ve ever screwed up?

And how long did it take before you could laugh about it?

Day one: everything clicks. You’re in the zone.

Day two: same task, same brain… suddenly you suck?

Even experts like Adam Voigt and Kirsty Lush can turn in the occasional clanger.

It happens. They’re still legends.

So are you (probably).

Before a bad day spirals into a full identity crisis, try this:

Change the space. Change the feel. Change the day.

It might be the context that’s off. Not your competence.

In this Friday Fink Tank, Col and I talk about how performance shifts when your environment does, and why blaming yourself is often the least helpful option. Idiot.

This episode is proudly sponsored by

“I was better yesterday and I don’t know why.”

Ever watched someone speak, lead, or perform and thought, “Wait… that’s it? I could do that!”

Except of course, you couldn’t.

This episode of The Fink Tank is about deceptive simplicity. Watching mastery is often marvelling at how simple it looks in its final form!

And it works both ways, because here’s the thing we forget:

The stuff that feels easy to you now is usually the most valuable to someone else. The stuff that looks effortless because it’s been practiced into your bones.

You’ve done it so many times, you barely notice the skill anymore. But that’s the gold. That’s what people actually need from you.

As Digby Scott succinctly puts it, “meet ‘em where they’re at”

—

Also, I’m feeling a bit of discomfort writing this. Because @Col has used ME as the metaphor!

Antipodean culture spurns blowhards. We’re taught to avoid being the hero in our own story.

But I also believe in owning your expertise. Downplaying effort and practice benefits nobody.

In saying “Yeah, I’m good at this” without being a wanker about it.

I sat down and gave myself a good hard talking to.

Literally. On the Fink Tank matching chairs. In Budapest!

My voice sometimes comes out of someone else’s mouth. If it’s one of my brothers, it’s often the exact sentence I would have said. In a voice that sounds exactly like mine.

In the days of landline phones, someone calling the Fink house couldn’t tell which of the four male Finks in the house they were speaking to. In group conversation with friends, I can often hear my contribution come from someone else, just before I was about to say it. The phrasing or intonation will probably be pretty similar too, even if the exact voice isn’t.

If it’s the ideas I want to share, they’re probably similar to what the rest of LinkedIn is saying (this week hustle culture is dead!)

This is completely normal. We’re all products of our environment, no matter how individual we feel.

So. If my thoughts are indistinguishable from other people’s, do mine matter? Do yours?

In this special Fink Tank episode, sans Col Fink, I sat down with myself in Budapest to talk about it.