I sat on the side of the M5 waiting for a recovery truck, looking at a car that was about to cost me far more than I had paid for it. The engine was the easy problem; the decision and follow-through were the hardest.
I am a proper DIY’er, believing I am quite handy at many things, plus I have always liked fixing things. Older cars are my soft spot, there is something really satisfying about taking something that the world has decided is no longer worth the effort, giving it some attention that it needs, and getting it back on the road when everyone else would have sent it to the scrap yard. I have renovated a few houses, rebuilt cars, and generally operated on the principle that most things can be fixed if you are willing to get your hands dirty, maybe without getting some sort of minor injury, and trust in your own ability to work it out as you go.
I have fixed up an old Alfa Romeo, sold it, and bought an old Jeep. After rebuilding the Jeep, I sold it, and I needed something else to challenge me. So I found an amazing deal and bought a Jaguar F-Pace, but the Jag had another idea about being saved.
The complexity of the onboard electronics quickly told me this wasn’t a car my cheap toolset could work on. My amateur status was about to get tested in ways the older, simpler cars couldn’t, but I could still do the simple tasks—oil changes, servicing, the things that don’t require a degree in computing—and I got on with it. For a few weeks, everything was great, what a car. Then the engine went bang on the motorway, typically a place where there is nothing you can do to try and save the situation; the flashing lights on the dash and the noises coming from under the bonnet told me how bad this really was.
I sat on the side of the M5 and waited for the recovery truck. In silence, I worked out how bad this was, it was going to be an expensive mechanical fix, and more importantly, I was going to have to make some big decisions before I could make a choice.
What followed over the next 24 hours was not a moment of inspiration or a flash of clear thinking. It was phone calls, research, working with incomplete information, costings, estimates that varied in amounts, much more than anyone would be comfortable with, and the awful process of trying to build a picture so that I could make a decision, one that I could stand behind. In theory, the options were straightforward: 1) cut my losses, walk away, scrap the car and absorb the financial hit this car was about to give me, 2) commit to a full engine rebuild at a cost that made the original purchase price look like chump change. In theory, the options were straightforward, but they were not, because the information available when you need to decide is almost never as complete as you would like.
I Googled Ingenium Specialists, made loads of phone calls, scribbled costs and asked many pie-in-the-sky questions on forums, so I could get a clearer picture about what other problems they can find. I gathered everything that I could. The numbers made me feel sick, I sat thinking of all options and the consequences of each side, the uncertainty of making a bad choice and having to make one caused me to question myself a hundred times, and eventually, without a 100% certainty, I made the decision to rebuild the engine and see it through.
The part I keep coming back to when I think about what this process taught me, is that even after a decision was made, the doubt did not disappear. The commitment had to be real, a direction had to be set, but there was no certainty in making a decision in some sort of solid framework, it was just not there. If I am being completely honest, this is what I would call taking a punt on the best outcome. I went ahead because a decision had to be made, and the only thing left was to make it work as best as it could.
The car is now back with a rebuilt engine, it needed a complete strip down and rebuild, a new turbo, water pump and thermostat housing (all of this was my worst case scenario), but it runs beautifully. It owes me a significant chunk of change that I have had to come to terms with, but I am at peace with it because I know exactly what I have, and I know it was a decision made with the fullest picture I could reasonably have at the time.
The caveman did not have the luxury of getting all the information. He never knew he needed it. The hunt required a decision about which direction to go, which prey to pursue, which risk was acceptable and, probably more importantly, which one was not. Every one of those decisions was made with incomplete knowledge, real time, under genuine pressure, without the option of waiting until everything was clear before committing to a direction (wow, just like being a police officer!).
What all great tribal decision-makers understood, and what most modern frameworks for decision-making understate, is that the goal is not certainty; it is sufficiency. Enough information is needed to make a weighted move, with enough self-awareness to tell the difference between a decision made from fear and one made from reason, then enough commitment to see it through once the direction is set, even if doubt lingers.
The decisions that define us are never the ones that we make with a full amount of confidence and with all the completed information. They are the ones we make in the 24 hours after the engine goes bang — sitting with an incomplete view, making the best calls, asking as many questions as we can, so that we can build the best picture, and then choosing a direction and committing to it fully, not because we are certain it is right, but because we are certain that standing still is worse.
Bravery in decision-making is not having an absence of doubt. It is the willingness to act when there is doubt, with the best information you can reasonably gather, and then putting everything you have into making that decision the right one. Justified, brave and willing to see it through.
A decision is sitting somewhere in your professional life right now that you have been circling without committing to—a change that needs to be made, a problem that needs a clear direction, a situation that’s been waiting for someone else to stop gathering information and to start acting. Even in the best case scenarios, information will never be complete, things change that are out of anyone’s control. The certainty will never be total. The question is whether you have enough of a picture to make a move, and whether you are willing to back yourself to make it work once you start.
A discovery call with me is, in its own small way, exactly that kind of decision. You do not know precisely what the conversation will produce, you cannot be certain it is the right use of a 30 minute space in your diary, and an outcome is not going to be predictable in advance. What you do know is that the problem you are circling is real, that doing nothing is a decision in itself, and that sometimes the most useful thing you can do is pick up the phone and start building the picture with someone.
Book a discovery call — virtual coffee included: www.carljones.org/#contact
Caveman Thought
The caveman who waited for the perfect conditions before making his move did not starve because he was unlucky. He starved because he confused preparation with action, and spent so long gathering information that the mammoth moved on without him.
Parting Question
Think about the decision you have been circling this week — the one you keep returning to without really committing. What would it need to look like, to gather the best picture you reasonably can, to make the call, and then put everything you have into making it work? And what is the cost of you waiting until you are 100% certain, given that certainty is probably not going to come?
As always, be the tribal member you are meant to be. It makes for a much easier and simpler life.
Your friend,
Carl – The Caveman.
P.S. When you are ready, here are a few things that might help you;
- You can book me to attend your next event as a Keynote Speaker.
- Want to take a FREE personality test? Check out The Caveman Principles Tribal Sorter.
- Check out my theories – The Caveman Principles and The SLAP Technique
- Grab a copy of my book The Caveman Principles, directly from my printing agent.
- You might want to book a spot on one of my eLearning courses to help you master a new skill.
- Or, if you have time and want to schedule a Caveman chat (with virtual coffee) for a discovery call, do it here.