Hands up all our favourite “I think I might have ADHD” people

This week’s Fink Tank kicks off with Col “diagnosing” both of us, before comparing ADHD to being left-handed. Something that only showed up in the stats once it became socially acceptable to admit it.

We dig into the blurry line between explanation and excuse.

When does understanding yourself help you grow, and when does it just become a way to justify bad behaviour? At what point does “this is how my brain works” turn into “if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best” (Ugh).

A slightly longer episode today, befitting the subject matter.

Ever meet someone’s family and think, ah, that explains everything?

Mum, Col, and his eldest son Deakin came to visit us in Wellington. Our collective Fink quirks, gathered in the McKay family home (portmanteau options include FcKay or McKink, pronounced with relish), were suddenly much more visible to me than usual.

We like to imagine we’re all unique, self-made individuals. But truthfully, most of us are just slightly modified versions of our parents. Flawed apples rolling a short distance from the tree.

Meeting the tree, as it were, can be enlightening.

Annoying traits become more forgivable when you see them in siblings and parents. At least that’s what I hoped as I watched Col unknowingly commit Finkish faux pas I’ve spent years trying to adjust in myself.

That doesn’t excuse any of us from doing the work. From knowing ourselves and taking what friend of the show Di Foster calls radical responsibility. I love that phrase.

But we’re all deeply flawed humans, requiring constant forgiveness. David Whyte’s poem on friendship might be the best articulation ever written of what enduring relationships truly demand.

At the very least, if you find someone a bit annoying but want to keep liking them, meet their family.

Ever noticed that the less you care about something, the easier it is?

Everyone wants to grow. Almost universally, we want to improve and upskill, we want to look back on our journey and see how far we’ve come.

And yet, we’ll reliably prevent ourselves from improving by locking ourselves away, playing small, and avoiding risks.

I have no particular interest in getting good at disc golf, but funnily enough the very fact that I don’t really care about the outcome means that yesterday, given a chance to play with Col and his son Deakin, I just gave it a crack. It went pretty well*.

Had it been something that feels more significant to my career and identity, I’m as guilty as the rest of us at protecting myself from feelings of inadequacy and shame.

It’s strange how, despite living with our brains our whole lives, we’re still terrible at managing them.

In this Fink Tank, Col and I talk about better ways of getting better at things; selfie videos, public speaking, anything that matters to your life and your work.

*My round ended one hole early when I threw Col’s favourite disc across a stiff Wellington breeze and it skewed 50 metres into impenetrable scrub. You've gotta spend money to make money.

Do I want to eat more Twisties?

If they’re within arms reach, apparently yes. But actually, no.

We’re on the way to pick up a planishing hammer (bonus points if you have any idea what a planishing hammer is. I didn’t), and Col has a huge open packet of Twisties in the centre console.

After a few mouthfuls I’ve had enough sickly orange grubs, yet I lack the self-control to stop shovelling them into my face. So I give the packet to Col to stash in his car door.

Why?

I have total agency no matter where the Twisties packet is. Yet I need to introduce a hurdle to change my behaviour. It’s stupid and irrational. And very human.

Moving the packet changes what economist Richard Thaler calls my “choice architecture”. Choice architecture plays a huge role in determining whether our behaviour aligns with our goals. Best intentions usually aren’t enough.

Whether it’s resisting Twisties, keeping an exercise routine, staying in contact with friends, or getting to bed on time.

Or posting videos.

I was utterly stuck at the start of 2020. I flogged myself trying to establish a video presence, but couldn’t post a thing. After weeks of floundering, Alicia McKay and Peter Cook flipped my approach.

They held me to account to ditch my perfectionism and post weekly phone videos for a month. I was up and running.

Sometimes small shifts lead to huge results.

In this weeks Fink Tank, Col and I talk about choice architecture experiments, and how to get the best out of ourselves.

Have you tried just… being better?

Col’s recent poll revealed what many of us already know. Most people admit they’re bad at marketing and sales. We avoid it.

Instead, we lean on referrals and word-of-mouth. We hoping the quality of our work speaks loudly enough to bring in the next client.

Col thinks many of us would be more successful if we focused less on blaming “bad marketing”, and more on becoming brilliant at our craft.

After all, being bad at marketing feels psychologically safer than facing the fear of being mediocre at what we actually do.

Go you good things!!

Who cares most about my expanding bald patch?

Me. Nobody else gives a shit.

Except it’s kinda news to me. Some recent video footage really tells it like it is! When else do I see the back of my own head?

Video shows us as we truly are, not as we imagine ourselves.

One of my jobs is helping people get comfortable with how they show up on camera. It's tricky territory, and most people find this confronting to the point they'll often choose total avoidance.

Nearly everyone has a complex about some aspect of their appearance.

But that thing you’re self-conscious about? There’s a good chance everyone else has either

a) not noticed, or

b) accepted it without judgement.

They’re too worried about their own shit to care about yours.

YES I REALISE I AM IN DANGEROUS TERRITORY HERE. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS HUGE CAVEAT FOR PATRIARCHY AND MISOGYNY BIAS, ABLEISM AND PRIVILEGE AND ALL OF THE THINGS.

Those factors are real and true and I’m not here to judge your experience. These barriers can be hard to overcome.

But Col and I both work with people who are the face of their business. And typically, the more comfortable you are with yourself, the more successful you’ll be.

Your hair, face, weight, voice, teeth, mannerisms - ALL OF IT - is already what people see every day. Show up anyway. It’s better for your business and your soul.

Yes, that’s custom lycra at Burning Man 2012.

PLOT TWIST at 90 seconds.

And yes, there’s a genuinely useful business lesson hiding in there.

In this week’s Fink Tank, we argue why you need to bang on about your core messages way more than feels comfortable.

Because the thing you’ve repeated 100 times?

Your audience has maybe heard… once.

Which is once more than you wish you’d seen the moustache I was rocking in 2012.

If my over-45s football league refereed themselves, every second match would end in a fist fight.

But in Ultimate Frisbee, that’s literally the rule. Even at the elite level!

Players call their own fouls. They debate it on the field. And at the end, the opposition gives you a Spirit Score. Like Uber ratings, but for sportsmanship.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ “Strong spirit. Weak deodorant.”

And it works. Their unique culture means players regulate themselves.

Quite a contrast with soccer/football! Imagine Lionel Messi calmly discussing the merits of a penalty claim with the French back four in the World Cup Final. Whole nations would revolt.

I edited this episode on a flight from Brisbane to Melbourne last night. While pondering the merits of introducing referees into more general aspects of life, I saw a guy in hi-vis with a whistle start issuing fouls to dodgy drivers in the passenger pick-up lane at Tullamarine. Until the whistle came out, hardly anyone was following the rules.

But life doesn’t usually come with umpires and whistles. Most of the time, we have to referee ourselves.

In this week’s Fink Tank Col and I discuss how self-refereeing shapes frisbee, and what it teaches us about trust, culture, and not being an arsehole.