<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:googleplay="http://www.google.com/schemas/play-podcasts/1.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Startup Flyby: Flyby Fiction]]></title><description><![CDATA[Inspiring fiction stories about entrepreneurship and more]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/s/flyby-fiction</link><image><url>https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!y5yH!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F46ecc85b-ac72-4018-8823-264bdfb7d8bc_500x500.png</url><title>Startup Flyby: Flyby Fiction</title><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/s/flyby-fiction</link></image><generator>Substack</generator><lastBuildDate>Sat, 04 Apr 2026 10:42:41 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.startupflyby.com/feed" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><copyright><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></copyright><language><![CDATA[en]]></language><webMaster><![CDATA[startupflyby@substack.com]]></webMaster><itunes:owner><itunes:email><![CDATA[startupflyby@substack.com]]></itunes:email><itunes:name><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></itunes:name></itunes:owner><itunes:author><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></itunes:author><googleplay:owner><![CDATA[startupflyby@substack.com]]></googleplay:owner><googleplay:email><![CDATA[startupflyby@substack.com]]></googleplay:email><googleplay:author><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></googleplay:author><itunes:block><![CDATA[Yes]]></itunes:block><item><title><![CDATA[A Tennis Lesson🎾]]></title><description><![CDATA[A flyby fiction about perseverance]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/a-tennis-lesson</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/a-tennis-lesson</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 23 Dec 2023 23:23:29 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!XlTE!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9d5bc716-8f68-484b-8064-a0dd0385e8ac_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!XlTE!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9d5bc716-8f68-484b-8064-a0dd0385e8ac_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!XlTE!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9d5bc716-8f68-484b-8064-a0dd0385e8ac_1024x1024.png 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y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p>The silence of the cold winter frost was broken by an ever-so-comforting ray of warm sunshine. Mia was jolted out of her sweet, bear-like hibernation and was ready to take on a new challenge. It was as if she could sense the light of spring awakening among us all.</p><p>She walked to work through Central Park in the comforting winter-spring sun as the sound of rubber hitting the turf snapped her out of her trance. CLUCK-POP. She stood there mesmerized, watching the tennis practice go on for five straight minutes, which, in Manhattan time, could be considered five straight hours. The tennis court was a synthetic oasis in the middle of the bustling city. A patch of vibrant green surrounded by towering skyscrapers. The nets fluttered slightly in the breeze as the sound of balls plucking strings pulsed to a rhythmic heartbeat amidst the city&#8217;s soundscape. She realized she was late. It didn&#8217;t take her much brainstorming to think of what her next challenge would be. By lunchtime, she was browsing tennis rackets on Amazon.com.</p><p>In the gym that evening, all she could think about was a new racket. The next day, during lunch, she stopped by a local racket shop in midtown to try some of them out. A few minutes later, she became the proud owner of a peach and yellow graphite sculpture, more work of art than sports equipment. A wide grin erupted in her face.</p><p>She lingered by the courts on the way home from the gym that evening, this time with a racket in hand. There were about twenty or so twenty-thirty-somethings burning the rubber. All moving in different silhouettes of a ballet crescendo. The balls bounced back and forth like an amateur performance of their own.</p><p>Mia was hooked.</p><p>She waited for the class to finish and walked up to a tall, slender, middle-aged man who, for some reason, had the appearance of a coach.</p><p>&#8220;Hey, I&#8217;m interested in joining a group. Are you the coach around here?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Umm&#8230;&#8221; replied the tall man in a deep baritone voice.</p><p>&#8220;Sorry. I don&#8217;t work here,&#8221; he mumbled as he scurried away like a mouse.</p><p>&#8220;Oh, sorry! Do you know who does?&#8221;</p><p>Too late. He was already gone.</p><p><em>Welcome to New York City.</em></p><p>She looked around, confused, then spotted an old Asian-looking man standing serenely in the corner, smiling.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;Weird, wonder what he wants,&#8221; she thought.</p><p>Suddenly, an athletic woman in her mid-thirties ran up in a pair of retro tiger shoes and started shouting &#8212; &#8220;All right. Let&#8217;s go. Let&#8217;s go!&#8221; Her jet-black hair snapping snakishly like a swinging whip.</p><p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t have all day people! Let&#8217;s Move.&#8221;</p><p>Mia looked around nervously. Seems like the next session had started. She started to sneak away until she heard a shout piercing through in her direction.</p><p>&#8220;You! Court #3, far end.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;But.. I don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Chop, chop, MOVE!&#8221;</p><p>Mia gulped. With her gym clothes still on and racket still wrapped in its packaging, she found herself in the game now. Guess it was time to try out the new racket.</p><p>It&#8217;s not that she had never played before, but it had certainly been over a decade. And she never really took any serious lessons before.</p><p>Here we go.</p><p>&#8220;Alright everyone, you know the drill,&#8221; shouted the apparent coach. &#8220;30 pushups. Let&#8217;s go!&#8221;</p><p>Mia was confused. Pushups? She had just come from an hour-long gym class and thrust into boot camp!? What was happening?</p><p>Joanna, the coach, walked over angrily, &#8220;Alright missy, go go go, this isn&#8217;t a Christmas parade.&#8221;</p><p>Joanna was out for blood.</p><p>&#8220;You look new. Have you ever played before?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Umm, yes. I mean, not for a while.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;What level are you?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Umm, intermediate?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Let me see your swing.&#8221;</p><p>Joanna dropped a few balls and then asked Mia to hit them as the others continued to swivel up and down in a rhythmic worm-like motion.</p><p>Still nervous, she smashed them hard. A bit too hard. 2 out of 3 went over the net. One went out of the ground, and another landed right inside the baseline. Not bad, she thought.</p><p>&#8220;Are you really an intermediate? I&#8217;d say improver at best. Maybe even a false beginner. Definitely not intermediate,&#8221; snapped Joanna.</p><p>Mia was taken aback. She found this coach a tad bit rude, and the comments chipped away at her confidence.</p><p>&#8220;This group is for intermediates only.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Yes, well that&#8217;s what I was trying to...&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Come back tomorrow morning. 8 am. We&#8217;ll do a 1:1 session. It will be $50 per class. Finish your pushups first.&#8221;</p><p>Unsure of what just happened, Mia started questioning this whole tennis idea.</p><p>&#8220;I thought this was supposed to be fun,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;And cheaper!&#8221;</p><p>She went home and hit the bed, knackered.</p><p>The morning arrived faster than a Shinkansen bullet train. She rushed out of her cramped Manhattan apartment and glided into the courts. It felt a bit like having a job before her job.</p><p>Eager to commence the training and finally try out her new racket, she entered the courts, trying to forget about the &#8220;mishap&#8221; from last night. Joanna was already waiting.</p><p>&#8220;You are two minutes late missy.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Oh.. Umm, it&#8217;s Mia, and I was just..&#8221; Joanna cut her off, &#8220;Save it. Next time, don&#8217;t bother showing up. Drop the racket, let&#8217;s start with 30 pushups.&#8221;</p><p>Here we go again.</p><p>After what seemed like 30 minutes of intense cardio (Manhattan time), she wondered if she was ever going to be able to get a swing in.</p><p>Halfway in, she looked around the other courts longingly, and found all the other students to be having an amazing time with their respective coaches and actually&nbsp;<strong>playing</strong>&nbsp;tennis. &#8220;How in the world did I end up with Joanna?&#8221; she pondered.</p><p>&#8220;Are we ever going to play some tennis?&#8221; she asked in frustration.</p><p>&#8220;Tennis? How can you play tennis when you don&#8217;t know how to run. You need to learn to run first. If you can&#8217;t catch the ball, what&#8217;s the point?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;But I already know how to run.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Ok, let&#8217;s see you move then,&#8221; snapped Joanna.</p><p>She made Mia burn the rubber for a few more minutes before she brought out the bucket of balls.</p><p>&#8220;Alright, let&#8217;s see what you&#8217;ve got improver.&#8221;</p><p>Joanna switched to the other court and started smashing aces that were clearly not intended for someone at a beginner/improver/intermediate level. It was as if she was channeling some prior resentment into her coaching.</p><p>This isn&#8217;t going well, thought Mia. Being an expert and teaching others were two completely different skills.</p><p>She managed to clip one. It edged back up, outside the court.</p><p>The rest just went all over the place. After running circles around the court trying to catch the ball, Mia was exhausted.</p><p>&#8220;Back to pushups,&#8221; shouted Joanna with a sharp look.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>This continued for a few days; the sessions got more and more intense, and there was no break. Joanna was running Mia like a workhorse, and Mia felt as if she was training for the US Open, or more likely, the Olympic gold in track. She considered buying <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/lessons-from-the-shoe-dog">a pair of Nike shoes</a> to fit the theme.</p><p>A few weeks later, she was starting to feel a pain in her shoulder. She mentioned it to Joanna.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;It&#8217;s fine; just ice it.&#8221;</p><p>And they continued the gauntlet. The session went on, and it was clear Mia was starting to hate the game she wasn&#8217;t even getting to play.</p><p>She headed off to work, her mind a whirl of confusion. Her shoulder aching even more from the unusual motions of swinging the racket. She headed straight to the snow room to apply some ice.</p><p>&#8220;Is this what this place is for?&#8221; she thought to herself, standing in the Snow Room of the opulent Bubblesoft office. A monument to the cold, a room full of ice peaks, cold mist, and footsteps in the snow, submerging you within the depths of an ice cave regardless of the day, time, or season.</p><p>She tried to quickly sneak out, slightly embarrassed to be using the ice room everyone thought was completely ridiculous. &#8220;Why do we even have this here!?&#8221; is what everyone would say.</p><p>&#8220;Getting some Ice, are we?&#8221; inquired a familiar voice from behind.</p><p>Busted.</p><p>&#8220;Seb! I didn&#8217;t see you there,&#8221; she blushed, somewhat embarrassed. &#8220;Just trying to cool down my arms. I had a tennis lesson.&#8221;&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;You play tennis?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I was trying to, but I&#8217;m not sure anymore. This coach is horrible! All I do is run around while she shouts at me.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Let me guess, Joanna?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Yes! How did you know?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Trust me. You want to fire her ASAP. It only gets worse.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Oh?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t even begin to explain. Get out while you still can.&#8221;</p><p>Mia chuckled nervously but also didn&#8217;t take Seb too seriously. She had heard this story before.</p><p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t that what you keep saying about Bubblesoft, Seb?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Oh yeah. You bet! Bubblesoft is a cult. No doubt. Why else do they call us Bubblers? I&#8217;m outta here!&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to start my own business soon,&#8221; he affirmed.</p><p>Mia chuckled, &#8220;Sure Seb.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure we&#8217;ll be having this same conversation again next month.&#8221;</p><p>Seb was now a bit flustered. Seems like he needed to make a move. What was he waiting for, the <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">Year of the Tiger</a>?</p><p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll see about that. Anyway, I know of a really good tennis coach. He&#8217;s a bit&#8230; different. I&#8217;ll tell him to get in touch with you.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Sure, thanks a bunch Seb! I&#8217;d be happy to go with anyone other than Joanna,&#8221; she smiled, &#8220;Anything would be a step up from this!&#8221; now relieved she wouldn&#8217;t have to go through this debacle again.&nbsp;</p><p>Seb nodded. &#8220;You bet. Oh, before you go, how&#8217;s the new guy doing?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;You mean Max?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, something&#8217;s off with him. He always seems to be moping around, and hovering around my screen, trying to see what I&#8217;m upto. I feel like he might be more interested in my job than managing the project.&#8221;</p><p>Seb chuckled, &#8220;Yeah, I think he hates it here. I should probably have a word with him someday.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Or.... maybe he just likes you,&#8221; he teased.</p><p>She blushed.</p><p>&#8220;Oh, what!? no way, I doubt that. I&#8217;m sure he would have said something by now.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;You&#8217;d be surprised Meow! You&#8217;d be surprised!&#8221;</p><p>She had a weird <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">Deja-Vu</a>. As if she&#8217;d had felt this all before. Around the same time last year. Perhaps it was just the spell of the seasons.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>Mia was awakened the next morning by an abrupt text from Joanna at 7am.</p><p>&#8220;No availability at 8am, can you make 7:45?&#8221;</p><p>Make that 2 more.</p><p>&#8220;Actually, make it 7:30.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;See you court 3&#8221;.</p><p>Mia, now getting quite annoyed. &#8220;Who does she think she is? The nerve! That&#8217;s my slot, how can she just give it away.&#8221;&nbsp;</p><p>She texted back furiously.</p><p>&#8220;Hi Joanna, I won&#8217;t be able to join any more sessions. I&#8217;ve decided to try out another coach.&#8221;</p><p>Her heart pounded as she got an instant reply.</p><p>&#8220;Ok. Can I please ask why you would do something like this?&#8221;</p><p>Mia thought this was a bit unprofessional.</p><p>&#8220;Hello???&#8221; flew in a second text.</p><p>She now panicked, clearly not a fan of confrontation. &#8220;It&#8217;s just my work schedule is changing a bit, and I won&#8217;t be able to make those slots anymore.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;We can arrange a different time, no problem.&#8221;</p><p>Yikes, maybe she should have just told the truth.</p><p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just... I&#8217;ve already scheduled something with the other coach.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Cancel it then.&#8221;</p><p>She tried ignoring it.</p><p>&#8220;Are you still able to make 7:30 today?&#8221;</p><p>No dice. She would have to face her fears head-on.</p><p>&#8220;Sorry Joanna, I would like to try a different style of learning. I&#8217;ll get back to you if I need another session, thanks for all the coaching!&#8221;</p><p>Joanna stopped responding, as Mia&#8217;s heart was still pounding.</p><p>Phew thought Mia. That was close. A bit too close.</p><p>She started wondering, &#8220;Maybe I was a bit rough on Joanna; she didn&#8217;t have the best people skills, but she had managed to get me in top shape after all.&#8221;</p><p>Ding. Another text arrived.</p><p>&#8220;Cancellation policy is 24 hours. Please transfer $50.&#8221;</p><p>Never mind. Mia was now fuming.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>That evening, she walked past the courts disheartened, looking enviously at all the students who seemed to just flow effortlessly, like their bodies were made of elastic bands.</p><p>&#8220;Mia, I&#8217;ve been expecting you,&#8221; echoed a calm, serene voice, seemingly coming out of nowhere, yet at the same time, filling every corner of the courts with an omnipresent surround sound.</p><p>She turned around to find the old man she saw on her first day at court.</p><p>&#8220;Oh, you have?&#8221; quizzed Mia.</p><p>&#8220;Yes, our mutual friend Seb told me you were interested in some tennis lessons.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Oh, yes. Yes, I was.&#8221;</p><p>She was surprised and didn&#8217;t think of this man as a coach. He was dressed in a beige robe and didn&#8217;t even have a tennis racket. She thought he was just an elderly man walking by every now and then. But there was something about the smile on his face. So serene, yet so confident. It could only follow that he must know something.</p><p>&#8220;Of course, let&#8217;s get started then,&#8221; said the old man.</p><p>&#8220;Right now? But I wasn&#8217;t expecting to play right away.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Then what are you doing at the tennis courts Mia?&#8221;</p><p>Good point.</p><p>&#8220;Sure&#8230; I suppose I can play right now. It&#8217;s just that I&#8217;ve already spent my budget for the day, unfortunately.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Excellent, I like your spirit, Mia! And don&#8217;t worry, consider it on the house,&#8221; he smiled.</p><p>Mia was taken aback by the generosity, a complete contrast to her previous coach.</p><p>&#8220;What&#8217;s your name?&#8221; asked Mia.</p><p>&#8220;You can just call me Kai,&#8221; he said with a smile.</p><p>&#8220;Sure thing, Kai.&#8221;</p><p>Mia stepped out with intense fervor, ready to jump into the action; all that training with Joanna had made her a bit jumpy.</p><p>She dropped down to the ground, ready to grind out some pushups.</p><p>Kai smiled.</p><p>&#8220;Relax Mia, where are you off to? We shall start with a few deep breaths.&#8221;</p><p>Mia blushed, &#8220;Oh, right, sure thing Kai.&#8221;</p><p>A few minutes in, they were both doing what seemed like a Tai Chi routine. Mia was now confused again. First, it was boot camp with Joanna, and now Tai-Chi with Kai. Would she ever get to play any tennis? Well, at least this one was free.</p><p>After a few minutes, she started to feel calm, more focused, and weirdly &#8220;in the zone.&#8221;&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s hit a few balls,&#8221; said Kai.</p><p>He brought his bucket out of nowhere and placed a bullseye on the other side of the court. Aim for this, please.</p><p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m still learning&#8230;&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;You need to believe Mia. Trust that you already know enough.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Ok, trust. Sure thing, Kai!&#8221;</p><p>Kai tossed a few balls, and Mia lasered in on them like a hawk. Smash. The first one curved swiftly over the net and bounced straight into the target. Again. Boom! Three in a row.</p><p>Mia didn&#8217;t know what was happening. She had suddenly gone from frustrated to fierce, all in the blink of an eye.</p><p>&#8220;Very good, Mia,&#8221; smiled Kai. &#8220;You seem to have done this before. That was some terrific top spin.&#8221;</p><p>Mia blushed and smiled.</p><p>She suddenly felt a surge of energy, and her joy for the game started emerging again. She immediately realized how big an impact a good coach could have. She was now eager to play every morning again, and her enthusiasm had returned like the sounds of the birds chirping in the early spring sun. The snow peaks had melted, and her world was waking up again.</p><p>She got into it, really, really into it. She started practicing at home. Shadow swings, real swings, hitting balls against the walls, floors, and ceilings, annoying her neighbors, watching Wimbledon on repeat in her spare time, and, of course, considering going pro each day in a few heated minutes of debate with herself.</p><p>She even spent a few days creating a custom vibration dampener for her racket, with some bells on it. Taking the foot off the pedal and training with Kai had made her find the sweet spot between effort and rest, between productivity and purpose.</p><p>She was now in love with the game again and ready to play with passion.</p><p>Mia had found love for the game and a newfound love for life itself.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>The weeks went by in a breeze. Mia got better and better; she found her whole life improving mysteriously. The discipline, training, and daily wisdom from Kai was working its magic without the forceful effort of the struggles with Joanna.</p><p>She even thought about entering the local tournament. She was ready for another challenge, and her competitive spirit was taking flight. There was only one problem. She couldn&#8217;t get her serve right.</p><p>After practicing ferociously for weeks, she found herself repeating the same mistakes from before. She had never managed to learn how to serve properly before, and now it was only getting worse.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;It feels like I&#8217;m fighting against myself Kai. No matter how hard I try, I can&#8217;t shake off my old way of serving.&#8221;</p><p>Kai walked over patiently, calm and observant.</p><p>&#8220;Old habits are the hardest to break, Mia. Sometimes, we need to spend more time unlearning what isn&#8217;t serving us anymore. No pun intended, of course,&#8221; he guffawed wildly as Mia chuckled.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;Practicing an incorrect technique will only ingrain incorrect habits deeper, you see.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Yes, that makes sense. I&#8217;m just not sure to know how to change it.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;A long time ago, I had a student named O-nami, a sumo wrestler. He was a fierce warrior, but afraid of the grand stage, afraid of the roaring crowds. Soon, his fear turned into a habit, and it became second nature. Anytime he would enter the stage, he would freeze.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;O-nami? Sumo?&#8221; asked Mia, confused. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know you were a sumo wrestler, Kai.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;I have been in many places, Mia,&#8221; he said with a mysterious smile. &#8220;It&#8217;s all connected.&#8221;&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s wild, Kai. How did O-nami overcome his fear then?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;He learned to channel the energy of his fear, summoning <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/great-waves">the great waves</a> of the ocean. Instead of running from the roar, he learned to ride it, to use it. In essence, he had to learn to begin again with the mind of a beginner. Letting go and finding the real strength within. A strength that was ever-present yet lay dormant.&#8221;</p><p>Mia started thinking deeper about this, more profoundly.</p><p>&#8220;Your serve is like O-nami&#8217;s stage performance. In order to grow, you must be willing to break it down and rebuild it, step by step. But the real change will be all in the mind &#8211; accepting that letting go of the old could lead to something better.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Letting go of what doesn&#8217;t serve you,&#8221; he guffawed once more as Mia smiled.</p><p>&#8220;Seb was right; you are quite the character, Kai,&#8221; chuckled Mia.</p><p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s start with the basics &#8211; your stance, your grip, your swing, and most importantly, an empty mind. Forget what you have learned, focus on what you know to be true.&#8221;</p><p>She reset her stance, concentrating on the ball and visualizing a perfect serve in her mind. She tossed it into the air, her body moving in a fluid, more controlled motion. &#8220;Let go.&#8221; Time slowed down as she struck the ball. Click. Swoosh. It sailed over the net, landing perfectly in the service box &#8211; an Ace.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;I did it, Kai! That felt different, more... right.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Well done, Mia. You&#8217;ve begun to summon your own great waves. Like O-nami, you&#8217;re learning to use your inner strength. This is just the beginning.&#8221;</p><p>Mia beamed, filled with a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. She picked up another ball, ready to serve again, her spirit lifted by Kai&#8217;s guidance and her own breakthrough.</p><p>After the groundbreaking session, she decided to sign up for the tournament and started training even more regularly. She would now hit the courts five days a week, practice with Seb, who was still working at Bubblesoft, and play matches with students from the intermediate group, as she literally up-skilled.</p><p>Tennis in Central Park had now become a central part of her life.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>There was now less than a week left to the local tournament. She had been practicing non-stop and had already improved beyond the level of the other students. Most of them just being part timers, not really taking it seriously. Mia had managed to fit years&#8217; worth of training into a mere few months just by focusing her mind completely on this one area. Now, that&#8217;s the right way to do Manhattan time, she thought.</p><p>She even started to give Seb a run for his money. He was bewildered.</p><p>The first match arrived like the winds of change. Mia was nervous, yet at the same time ready. The opponent entered. It was the same student from the group session who had scurried away like a mouse. A tall, slender, middle-aged man. This should be interesting, thought Mia.</p><p>It was his serve. Cluck, pop, swoosh. Ace. 15-0.</p><p>Mia was now jolted awake. Seems like he was a decent player. Next serve. Cluck, pop, swoosh. She managed to barely get a flick into an accidental drop-shot. Middle-aged man just managed to dive in, slicing it perfectly cross court. 30-0.</p><p>She heard the teachings from Kai echoing in the background, &#8220;Forget what you&#8217;ve learned, feel what you know, summon the great waves.&#8221; Time to fly. She cranked up the octane and activated tournament mode.</p><p>Next serve, Mia smashed it back down the line. Middle-aged man tripped. 30-15. He grunted. The game was on.</p><p>Next serve, a fierce volley went on for a few minutes; Mia sliced it cross-court to capture the point. 30-30, then 30-40 in rapid succession, as she unleashed her potential in a wicked blur of motion.</p><p>The man lost his cool and threw down his racket in frustration. The sign of a true amateur. Someone not in control of their emotions. Mia was able to take advantage and run him over. First game, Mia.</p><p><code>Round 2.</code></p><p>The man was still somewhat frazzled and hadn&#8217;t regained his composure.</p><p>Mia to serve.&nbsp;</p><p>Cluck, pop, swoosh. Ace. 15-0.&nbsp;</p><p>Cluck, Swoosh, miss hit. 30-0.&nbsp;</p><p>Cluck, return, backhand slice. 40-0.&nbsp;</p><p>Pop.</p><p>Game.&nbsp;</p><p>A series of masterful plays followed. Each point a testament to her growing prowess. The sets blurred into a showcase of her skill. No contest. Mia had won her first-ever tournament match, in style. She jumped up in excitement and went over to high-five Kai. He simply smiled and bowed instead.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;Well done, Mia, your practice has shown great promise. We must now keep our eye on the target. The journey continues.&#8221;</p><p>They continued training for the next few weeks. Mia kept getting stronger and stronger. She won all her matches with grace and reached the quarterfinals of her first ever tournament.</p><p>She was elated.</p><p>She went over to check the roster to get an idea of who her next opponent would be. Her enthusiasm, eagerness, and work ethic had sent her soaring to her highest potential; she couldn&#8217;t believe she was in the knockout stage. She was curious to find out who she would be paired with.</p><p>She took a deep breath and checked the list.</p><p>&#8220;Alright, you&#8217;ve got this. First ever quarter final, no biggie!&#8221; she gulped.</p><p>She opened the list.</p><p>Her face dropped when she found out who the match was against.</p><p>It couldn&#8217;t be.</p><p><code>--- Quarter Finals - Match 3 ---</code></p><p><em>Mia vs Joanna.</em></p><p>&#8220;What!?&#8221;</p><p>A nightmare in reality. She would now have to face Joanna again. Mia knew Joanna was quite skilled, but worse, she knew Joanna was all about winning and not the love of the sport. This match would be a cage match for the mind more than the body. She also fully expected Joanna to still be holding a grudge and perhaps even play dirty.</p><p>She had noticed Joanna staring like a hawk every now and then in her training sessions with Kai, but she hadn&#8217;t spoken to her since. She did feel she could have handled &#8220;the breakup&#8221; a bit better, though.</p><p>Now, they would be going head-to-head.</p><p>There was only one thing she could do. Keep calm and practice along. There was tennis to be played, after all.</p><p>She went home and continued her practice regimen, intertwined with deep rest. All she could do was focus on the process. The score would simply take care of itself.</p><p>With three days left, she started training ferociously, running corner to corner to up her athleticism. Joanna&#8217;s pounding attitude had started replaying in her head again.</p><p>Her speed had skyrocketed like a cheetah on wheels.</p><p>She got a spin ball on the left side, bam, no problem, top spin to center court, ace return.</p><p>Mia was ready.</p><p>Drop shot near the net; she smashed it back with ease. Slice; no problem.&nbsp;</p><p>She might even be faster than Joanna now, she thought. This would be her chance to prove that Joanna&#8217;s methods might not be the best. Inadvertently, she started channeling Joanna&#8217;s energy and was suddenly determined to win at all costs.</p><p>Flat backhand drive to the right corner. This one was a bit outside of her reach, but she wasn&#8217;t about to let it slip. She cranked up the octane and dove in like a high-speed jet. She found herself losing balance a mere microsecond before.</p><p><em>*CRACK*</em></p><p>Mia tumbled as her racket flew up like a helicopter taking off.</p><p>The music just stopped.</p><p>This wasn&#8217;t good.</p><p>Kai rushed in. &#8220;Mia, are you alright!?&#8221;</p><p>She groaned. Her ankle was the size of a Big Apple.</p><p>&#8220;Oh dear. Mia. We must take you to the hospital.&#8221;</p><p>Her ankle was toast, and she couldn&#8217;t get up anymore.</p><p>Darkness falls.</p><p>The ambulance arrived in a flash, but Mia had already sensed the verdict. The paramedics swooped in like a swat team and rushed her to the local hospital. The doctor on call addressed the injury and responded with a stark, motionless expression, &#8220;Your ankle has a 2nd-degree sprain. You won&#8217;t be able to move much for a few weeks, I&#8217;m afraid.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Few weeks. What!? But I have a big tournament THIS WEEKEND!&#8221; she cried.</p><p>&#8220;Oh. That&#8217;s not going to be happening, I&#8217;m afraid. You&#8217;ll be lucky to get out of bed by then. We are looking at 6-8 weeks of recovery time. On top of that, we&#8217;ve found there to be signs of a stress fracture in your shoulder. I don&#8217;t think you&#8217;ll be able to play anything anytime soon. You are going to have to take it easy for a while and get lots and lots of ice. I would look into investing in a good Ice room subscription somewhere.&#8221;</p><p>The diagnosis hit her like a crushed rock.</p><p>Mia was devastated. She saw her dreams fade and rush out the window like the cold winter snow melting into the sewers. All the months of passion, effort, and hard work had been of no use. She was shocked and heartbroken.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>After being sent home, she iced her ankle in disbelief. Wimbledon was still on, but she had suddenly lost all interest. At least she had an ice room in Bubblesoft, she thought. &#8220;Wait. Why do I even care about an Ice room. This is so stupid! UGH!&#8221; she shouted.</p><p>She lay in bed with an ice pack, staring at the ceiling, reflecting on her journey. &#8220;Was it all for nothing?&#8221; she wondered. Her mind drifted between frustration, sadness, and the fear of never playing again.</p><p>A few mornings later, still saddened by the turn of events, she hopped back out to the court to pick up her stuff.</p><p>Kai glanced over and smiled, &#8220;How&#8217;s the warrior today?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Not much of a warrior now, am I?&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Ah, Mia. Sometimes, being a warrior means knowing when to rest and heal.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;No more tennis, I&#8217;m afraid. My journey is over, Kai,&#8221; she sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek.</p><p>He gently patted her shoulder, as he seemed to still have his signature smile turned on.</p><p>&#8220;Do not fret Mia,&#8221; he started slowly.</p><p>&#8220;Your journey is only beginning.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;Tennis was just a path, not THE path. And it has shown you what lay sleeping inside of you.&#8221;</p><p>&#8220;When one door closes, countless more open.&#8221;</p><p>She looked up.</p><p>&#8220;Each moment in life has infinite pathways for you to choose from. Infinite. And every pathway in life has infinite possibilities. Your passion is like a river. It may change course, but it never stops flowing. You may not be able to play tennis right now, but you can choose where you wish to go next. You are completely in the driver&#8217;s seat. The only thing that matters is that you take your heart, spirit, and drive with you. That is the key.&#8221;</p><p>His words touched Mia to her core, and she suddenly found hope again. It all made sense; merely a few months ago, she didn&#8217;t even care about tennis, and now it had somehow consumed her. But it was just one of many, many paths she could choose from. The whole world was her oyster.</p><p>The last few weeks had made her realize her true potential. She could now channel that energy into the next pathway. All she needed was a worthy goal, a challenge, a <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/constructing-the-right-mountain">mountain worth climbing</a>.</p><p>She thanked Kai and started to hop home; she had some brainstorming to do.</p><p>As she limped back, suddenly, the dampener on her racket fell to the ground, making a clink sound that echoed angelically like a Tibetan singing bowl.&nbsp;</p><p>Mia froze.</p><p>Suddenly, she had an epiphany.</p><p>She remembered how hard it had been for her to find these dampeners. She had looked everywhere but couldn&#8217;t find any she liked, so she had made her own with a cute character on it. She called it a nibbler.</p><p>&#8220;When one door closes, countless more open,&#8221; swirled Kai&#8217;s words in his signature omnipresent surround sound.</p><p>She couldn&#8217;t use her legs or her shoulder for now, but she had her hands and her fingers! And she was an artist, after all.</p><p>She went home and brainstormed, made rough designs, could hardly sleep with the creative juices flowing. She would create a business, no, design a BRAND!&nbsp;<em>Hot Shot Nibblers</em>. She came up with a lineup of 20 different icons. Each one unique and having its own personality. She designed her own characters in a vibrant cartoony style, gave them all names and a back story, and put her personal touch and flair to them.</p><p>She had taken her warrior spirit and embedded it into the characters, creating a selection of nibblers that would inspire their owners to play to their highest potential.</p><p>Learning tennis again had unlocked her drive, her passion, her energy again. Now, she could channel it into something that mattered even more to her. Something that would build upon her vast reserves of existing skills. She would use it to share her creativity with the world and spread the joy with countless other tennis players across the world. People just like her.</p><p>The weekend was a firestorm of creativity, brainstorming, and design. Wimbledon stopped altogether and was now replaced by&nbsp;<em>Shark Tank</em>. Hanging out with Seb so often had perhaps rubbed off on her, she thought.</p><p>She wasn&#8217;t quite sure what the next steps were, but she was excited to find out. She had picked up playing tennis in just a few months, hadn&#8217;t she? Now, it was time to take it to the next level and <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/">learn about entrepreneurship</a>.</p><p>She would simply take things one step at a time.</p><p>The morning arrived faster than a Shinkansen bullet train. The spring-summer leaves flowed with energy and radiance. Mia felt electric. She limped across to work early, eager to get some glorious ice time to speed her recovery. &#8220;So that&#8217;s what this room is for,&#8221; she concluded. She stopped by the tennis courts on the way and saw Kai drop her his iconic, serene smile.</p><p>She hopped up to him, still recovering but smiling widely.</p><p>&#8220;Thank you, Master Kai,&#8221; she bowed, unsure where the urge to call him master came from.</p><p>She stood there still for a mere three seconds, which felt more like three minutes. This time, though, she had a serene smile on her face that broke through the rush of the city, turning Manhattan time into mystical moments of magic.</p><p>&#8220;I have found my next path,&#8221; she smiled.</p><p>&#8220;Yes, I can see it in you Mia, and I am very happy,&#8221; he bowed serenely.</p><p>He held out his hand, releasing a lotus flower that caught sight of the wind, flying away with the breeze, like a pastel phoenix rising anew from the ashes.</p><p>&#8220;Say, how would you like to continue training? You might not be able to play tennis for now, but we can work on your visualization skills, and perhaps do some slow Tai-Chi movements to speed up your recovery,&#8221; he smiled.</p><p>&#8220;That sounds great, Master Kai,&#8221; she said excitedly.</p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m all in!&#8221;</p><div class="pullquote"><p>END</p></div><p><strong>Please help me improve! How did you like this story?</strong></p><p>With your <em>anonymous</em> feedback, I can improve the newsletter.</p><ul><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/a8bb3945-1b93-417d-b52b-adba4ee9cacd/1">&#128525; Loved it!</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/a8bb3945-1b93-417d-b52b-adba4ee9cacd/2">&#128077; Good, but could be better.</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/a8bb3945-1b93-417d-b52b-adba4ee9cacd/3">&#128528; Meh... not interesting to me.</a></p><div><hr></div></li></ul><div class="subscription-widget-wrap-editor" data-attrs="{&quot;url&quot;:&quot;https://www.startupflyby.com/subscribe?&quot;,&quot;text&quot;:&quot;Subscribe&quot;,&quot;language&quot;:&quot;en&quot;}" data-component-name="SubscribeWidgetToDOM"><div class="subscription-widget show-subscribe"><div class="preamble"><p class="cta-caption">Startup Flyby is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></div><form class="subscription-widget-subscribe"><input type="email" class="email-input" name="email" placeholder="Type your email&#8230;" tabindex="-1"><input type="submit" class="button primary" value="Subscribe"><div class="fake-input-wrapper"><div class="fake-input"></div><div class="fake-button"></div></div></form></div></div><p></p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Lion, the Mouse, and the Antelope]]></title><description><![CDATA[A Tale of Priorities]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-lion-and-the-mouse</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-lion-and-the-mouse</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 08 Jul 2023 04:00:56 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png 424w, 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data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:1024,&quot;width&quot;:1024,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:2445769,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:false,&quot;topImage&quot;:true,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!LDhQ!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2a8ebb17-8085-4e63-9d4a-87717949f670_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p>This post is a bite-sized&nbsp;<strong>4-minute</strong>&nbsp;<em>snack</em>.</p><div><hr></div><p>I read about this concept a while back in Tim Ferris's book&nbsp;<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Tools-Titans-Billionaires-World-Class-Performers-ebook/dp/B01HSMRWNU/">Tools of Titans</a>. It's a powerful analogy about chasing the right targets and something that has stuck with me.</p><p>In the usual flyby manner, I turned it into a short story for dramatic effect and a bit of a&nbsp;<em>twist</em>.</p><p>Enjoy!</p><div><hr></div><p>A long time ago, in the vast expanses of the Serengeti, lived a mighty lion. As each day began anew, the sun rose, painting the sky in energetic hues. The lion would greet the dawn with a resounding roar that echoed across the plains, stirring fear into the hearts of all who heard it.</p><p>One day, as was his routine, the lion was on his way to find some fare when suddenly, out of nowhere, he encountered a scurrying little mouse in the wild. Unable to resist the thrill of the chase, the lion sprung into action, muscles straining as he charged after the tiny creature. The mouse let out a high-pitched squeak that pierced the silence of the Serengeti. After an exhausting chase, the lion finally captured the mouse, only to&nbsp;<em>not quite</em>&nbsp;realize that he was even more famished than before.</p><p>Days turned into weeks, each passing day a mirror of the last. More mice showed up, and the lion couldn't resist chasing them. He lost sight of the prize entirely. His once awe-inspiring strength was waning, and the lion found himself growing weaker and weaker. Each day, he chased the mice relentlessly, depleting his energy reserves until he was nothing but a shadow of the fearsome creature he once was. His eyes, once bright and alert, were now dull and tired. He was no longer the king of the plains; instead, he became a grumpy, fatigued beast.</p><p>In his worn-out condition, he saw the urgency for change. The thrill of chasing the mice, while mildly rewarding, was like savoring a sliver of cheese when he was in need of the entire block &#8212; something substantial that could replenish his energy.</p><p>He crawled onto the nearest watering hole in search of some water. He could barely make it; his body weakened. Before being able to quench his thirst, he saw a giant antelope lurking nearby. This was it, he realized. He mustered all his remaining strength and channeled it into hunting the antelope. But, to no avail, the lion passed out from exhaustion.</p><p>He grappled back to wakefulness once more, his body aching as it awakened from a restless slumber. Above him, the vultures were already circling ominously, anticipating his downfall. His energy tank was near empty, and he knew he was on borrowed time. Suddenly, a horde of tiny field mice appeared, their tiny feet thundering over the dry ground like an animated marching band. This time, the lion kept it together, realizing another chase might very well be his downfall. He waited patiently for another antelope. The hours felt like days, each moment expanding into an eternity of anticipation.</p><p>And then, it arrived &#8212; a formidable antelope, its majestic form striding confidently across the plains. The lion charged. It was the most intense battle he had ever fought in his life. He almost collapsed, each movement sapping the remaining energy from his limbs. Despite nearing his own demise, he prevailed. After satisfying his hunger, the lion was finally able to get a good night's rest.</p><p>From that day on, the lion vowed to always put in the effort to hunt the big antelope first and not get distracted by the tiny field mice. He still occasionally chased field mice, but only after he had satisfied his hunger. This was now more of a hobby or sport rather than his unforeseen primary vocation.</p><p>The lion learned a valuable lesson about prioritizing.</p><p><em>Big things first, little things second.</em></p><p>With this newfound wisdom, he lived a long and fulfilled life.</p><div><hr></div><p>As the lion learned&#8212; while the field mice might be an easy and fun target, chasing them drained his energy and put him in a caloric deficit. He might be proud for a while, but eventually,&nbsp;<em>the lion would</em>&nbsp;<em>starve</em>. On the other hand, hunting an antelope was significantly higher effort. But the reward was also much, much greater, and the lion would be fulfilled for a long time.</p><p>The concept applies to the stuff we prioritize in our lives as well. We might not live in the wild and have to outrun hungry lions, but we all have the same amount of time and energy in a day. Are we spending those resources chasing the small stuff or going after the big wins? While chasing mice might be satisfying and easy in the short term, it's the big antelope that move things forward in the long term.</p><p>Field Mice could also be the little things that drain our energy and don't really add much value, but we still compulsively keep doing&#8212; e.g., social media, emails, chats, or any other good'ol form of procrastination. These might give us a short-term rush but are a&nbsp;<em>net negative</em>&nbsp;in the long run. Antelope are the big tasks that make a noticeable impact on our goals and move us forward. These are harder in the short term but significantly more valuable in the long run.</p><p>It's the same at a higher level for the projects or businesses we choose to spend our time on. If you have to decide between going for multiple competing ventures, look at the output of each. Which one is closer to the proverbial&nbsp;<em>antelope</em>? Prioritize that first.</p><p>Now if we did manage to catch an antelope and have a bunch of spare time and energy, we could go out and chase field mice all we wanted (or perhaps get some deep rest instead). That would be akin to a hobby or sport. Nothing wrong with that, as long as the order doesn't get reversed and the lion isn't still hungry. Otherwise, we&#8217;d have a weak and grumpy lion, wouldn't we?</p><p><em>Big things first. Little things second.</em></p><p>The simplest productivity system you could ever come up with.</p><p>As simple as it gets.</p><p>Ask yourself:</p><p><strong>Am I chasing field mice or hunting antelope?</strong></p><p>&#129409;&#128001;&#129420;</p><div><hr></div><p><strong>Please help me improve! How did you like this post?</strong></p><p>With your <em>anonymous</em> feedback, I can improve the newsletter.</p><ul><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/1e2e2257-091a-4e0d-85bb-66a7dd6b9941/1">&#128525; Loved it!</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/1e2e2257-091a-4e0d-85bb-66a7dd6b9941/2">&#128077; Good, but could be better.</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/1e2e2257-091a-4e0d-85bb-66a7dd6b9941/3">&#128528; Meh... not interesting to me.</a></p></li></ul><div><hr></div><p>Enjoying <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/">Startup Flyby</a>? Invite your friends and <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-flyby-referral-program">earn rewards</a>. Hit the share button below:</p><p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{&quot;url&quot;:&quot;https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-lion-and-the-mouse?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email&utm_content=share&action=share&quot;,&quot;text&quot;:&quot;Share&quot;,&quot;action&quot;:null,&quot;class&quot;:null}" data-component-name="ButtonCreateButton"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-lion-and-the-mouse?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email&utm_content=share&action=share"><span>Share</span></a></p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Great Waves]]></title><description><![CDATA[A Zen Story]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/great-waves</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/great-waves</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 03 May 2023 04:00:12 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The following is based on an old zen story I came across recently and found quite interesting. I rewrote it from the ground up to add an entertainment layer and a modern flyby twist to it. Hope you enjoy! &#127749;&#128522;</p><div><hr></div><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw"><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png" width="1024" height="1024" data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:1024,&quot;width&quot;:1024,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:2198932,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:false,&quot;topImage&quot;:true,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!vaHc!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F51fe7821-fc50-4665-a34c-cc6f74a51307_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p>The glare grew stronger as he stood there frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. <em>Smack</em>. Another takedown. O-nami lay flat on the ground, not knowing what just hit him. One more tournament where he would fail to deliver.</p><p>In early Japan, there was a powerful sumo wrestler called O-nami, "Great Waves." Ravaging opponents with the force of lightning, his ability was unmatched&#8212;&nbsp;<em>in the practice ring.</em></p><p>When it came time to get on stage in public, O-nami was a flop. The lights would blind his composure, the piercing sounds would carve through him mercilessly, and he would fall back down in search of his own shadow.</p><p>He knew this all too well and would avoid all tournaments like the plague. He spent most of his time in the dojo, teaching others and sparring with opponents. His skill was unmatched, and he had mastered the art of wrestling, but he knew he wasn't living up to his full potential. Others would come to him for guidance, but he knew he couldn't keep his head high for too long without actually living what he taught. There was always the occasional student who would ask the awkward question. And so would his own teacher ...</p><p>"What happened, O-nami? You've been doing exceptionally well in practice; I thought you would overcome this time," asked his teacher after the defeat.</p><p>"I'm not sure, Kaiji-san. I froze again," whimpered the great O-nami.</p><p>This went on for a few more rounds, O-nami lost match after match, and his confidence was slowly getting wiped out.</p><p>His mentor Kaiji grew concerned. He knew this would impact O-nami outside of the ring, and he would need to overcome his fear soon before it was too late. Kaiji decided to take matters into his own hands. He spoke to the organizers to try and re-arrange the fixtures for O-nami's benefit.&nbsp;</p><p>He succeeded.</p><p>"O-nami, I've got some great news. I learned you will be wrestling with Banjo in next week's match. He is your student and an easy opponent. Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"</p><p>"Yes, Kaiji-san. I have taught him everything he knows and beaten him many, many times in practice. It will be no contest," said O-nami fiercely.</p><p>A few days went by. Both O-nami and Banjo trained fiercely. They sparred together on several occasions. O-nami would always win and then explain to Banjo how he could improve with some playful instructions. Banjo knew he was no match for the great O-nami and couldn't help but envy the gifted giant.</p><p>Kaiji had started to gain hope again. An easy win against Banjo would give O-nami the confidence needed to rise. He would perhaps even be able to win a tournament in a few years.</p><p>The match day arrived swiftly.</p><p>O-nami stepped into the ring the same way he had done many times before. He was confident this time. Banjo was like his personal punching bag in practice.</p><p><em>DING DING DING</em></p><p>The bells rang, and the lights switched on with a whooshing sound. Suddenly, O-nami turned around to witness the sea of faces surrounding him. Some he would recognize, some strangers. The glare grew stronger, and the ringing in his ears grew louder. The crowd bellowed in anticipation. Everything was moving in slow motion. He looked forward, but before he could piece himself together, he saw Banjo rushing towards him like a charged rhinoceros. O-nami's face dropped, his hands froze, and he suddenly forgot how to block or counter. The lights grew dim as he heard his mentor yell from the side of the ring, "MOVE O-NAMI! MOVE!" It was too late. He found himself 6 feet in the air before he realized what was happening.</p><p>POW!</p><p>One swift takedown and O-nami was on the ground.</p><p>Game over.</p><p><em>DING DING DING DING DING.</em></p><p>The crowd started roaring.</p><p>Banjo walked around the ring with his hands held firmly in the air. He looked towards O-nami and let out a smug roar which wiped out all the humiliation he felt he had faced in the dojo. He circled O-nami like a shark taunting its prey. O-nami was nearly twice his size, but none of it made any difference. Banjo had beaten his fierce teacher.</p><p>O-nami dragged himself up, bewildered by the unexpected turn of events. His mentor Kaiji-san walked over with a look of utter disbelief.</p><p>"What happened, O-nami? Banjo is no match for your prowess. You have beaten him many times in practice!"</p><p>O-nami didn't reply. A wave of confusion and disappointment washed over him as he struggled to understand how he had lost yet again.</p><p>Seeing the frustration in this gifted wrestler, Kaiji-san grew frustrated himself. His interference had only seemed to make things worse.</p><p>"Perhaps you should take some time off and reconsider this approach, O-nami. Not everyone needs to fight in tournaments. You are a gifted trainer; let others do the fighting! This isn't good for anyone's morale. I can assign you some extra shifts at the dojo. What do you say?"</p><p>O-nami's shoulders slumped as he walked away in silence, the weight of disappointment heavy on his bowed head.</p><p>He started heading towards the endless sea. He knew he couldn't return to the dojo after what happened with Banjo. The students wouldn't respect him anymore. He considered throwing in the towel and working the rice fields instead. "<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/failure-to-launch">Maybe I'm just not cut out for this whole wrestling thing</a>," he thought hopelessly.</p><p>He walked for a few hours until he glimpsed a temple perched atop a nearby hill. It shimmered like a beacon, drawing him in with its magnetic pull. He remembered that a wandering Zen master named Hakuju was visiting there. Perhaps he could help with the situation.</p><p>With nothing to lose, he turned around and went through the forest instead. The path was cold, long, and full of the unknown. He could hear the snakes hissing in the background, taunting him like the cacophony of the crowd still playing on repeat in his head. He made a run for it as the mysteries hidden behind the trees ruffled his spirit.</p><p>Emerging from the shadowy forest, he caught sight of the hidden temple, its silhouette framed against the fiery hues of the setting sun. He was breathless but still climbed the 400 steep steps savagely pieced together at near-right angles as if only to test incoming prospects. He trudged on for a few hours, his body aching with every step. This was no ordinary feat for a mountain climber, let alone a sumo wrestler of his grandeur.</p><p>He stood outside, desperately attempting to catch his breath.</p><p>Suddenly, the door opened, and he was greeted by a small man with a faint smile on his face.</p><p>"Greetings, O-nami. I have been expecting you."</p><p>He coughed a few times, still breathless.</p><p>"How do you know my name?" he asked.</p><p>*COUGH*</p><p>"And how did you know I would be arriving?"&nbsp;</p><p>*COUGH*</p><p>"I know many things, O-nami, but more importantly, do you know&#8212;&nbsp;<em>why are you here?</em>"</p><p>O-nami paused, thinking long about how to respond.</p><p>"I know everything about wrestling, master Hakuju, yet I keep losing in tournaments. I was hoping you would be able to help."</p><p>Master Hakuju smiled, "Is that so O-nami?"</p><p>"If you know everything about wrestling, then why do you think you are losing?"</p><p>"I... I'm not sure!" squeaked O-nami, realizing he might have neglected a few areas of his development.</p><p>The Zen master lowered his gaze.</p><p>"Great Waves is your name. Is that correct?"</p><p>"Yes, master Hakuju. I am O-nami, Great Waves!"</p><p>"Well then, Great Waves, you must now embrace those billows. You are no longer a wrestler who is afraid. Imagine you are those huge waves sweeping everything before them, swallowing all in their path. Do this, and you will become the greatest wrestler in the land."</p><p>The master left, leaving O-nami to tackle his inner demons.</p><p>He tried to do as instructed but found it difficult to focus. His mind was a whirlwind of fear, doubt, and frustration, making it hard to concentrate on the calming image of the great waves. All he could see were the flashbacks from the past. Banjo standing above him with a petty smirk on his face. The insults and awkward questions from the students. He tried to tune it out, but the hissing from the forest had other ideas. The match bells started ringing like a broken xylophone stuck on repeat. His mind was racing at 200mph.</p><p>But.. he kept at it. If there was one thing he was good at, it was <em>practice</em>. Any type of practice. O-nami was a master of his craft; he just needed to get out of his own way. Now, he had a new craft to master. He stayed at it for a few hours.</p><p>The salty water emerging from the fading thoughts started flowing down his cheeks as he turned towards the&nbsp;<em>feeling</em>&nbsp;of the waves.</p><p><em>CRACK</em></p><p>He could suddenly feel the ripples.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">The foam sparkled like diamonds</a>&nbsp;as he stood there, caught like a deer in the headlights once more.</p><p>Time stood still as O-nami was no more, leaving only what remained.. the great waves rushing towards him in slow motion.</p><p><em>WHOOSH</em></p><p>Like someone hitting play on a record player, the storm surged forward with the intensity of the seven seas.</p><p>The waves blew forward, sweeping everything in their way.</p><p>The temple was swallowed along with everything inside of it.</p><p>There was silence.</p><p>Not even the usual ringing in his ears.</p><p>Only the ebb and flow of the endless oceans.</p><p>A few hours later, master Hakuju walked in to find O-nami sitting on the ground, meditating with a faint smile resembling his own.</p><p>He patted O-nami on the back.&nbsp;</p><p>"Now, nothing can disturb you. You are one with the Great Waves. You will sweep everything that comes your way."</p><p>O-nami got up and headed straight to the dojo. He asked Banjo for a rematch first thing in the morning. Banjo agreed eagerly and started belittling O-nami for wanting to humiliate himself in public again.</p><p>O-nami's teacher Kaiji caught the word. "O-nami, are you sure about this? You won't be able to recover from another defeat. Why not just return to the practice ring and welcome your gifts?"</p><p>O-nami said nothing. He stood tall with a faint smile still on his face.</p><p>His mentor sensed something beyond his comprehension at play. "Very well, O-nami, I shall be there to support you."</p><p>Word spread throughout town, drawing an eager crowd to witness the rematch. Most were keen to see the giant O-nami go down once more in a humiliating defeat.</p><p>Banjo entered the ring and immediately started taunting O-nami with a chicken dance. The crowd joined in with laughter and started throwing rubbish toward him.</p><p>But... Great Waves was unphased. He stood still and felt at one with the billows.</p><p>With a deep, steadying breath, he closed his eyes and reached out to the unseen currents, feeling their raw power swirling within him, waiting to bend to his will.</p><p>The announcements took place, and the arena lights blazed to life. The crowd grew louder in anticipation.</p><p><code>Pure Electricity.</code></p><p><em>DING DING DING</em></p><p>Banjo darted forward with incredible speed, like a <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-lion-and-the-mouse">leopard chasing a slow-moving target.</a></p><p>With his eyes still closed, O-nami tensed his muscles to form a cinder block right as Banjo pounced in like a feral beast.</p><p>*CRASH*</p><p>Banjo crashed into him like a frying pan hitting a hard rock. The crowd gasped as the strong vibrations sent him spinning. He swayed around like a drunkard, not knowing what had just hit him.</p><p>He tried walking toward the great wall in his dizzying gait, attempting to land some karate slaps.</p><p>He leaned forward and threw his hand with full force.</p><p>O-nami stood still, eyes still closed. In one swift motion, he got in between the strike and used his opponent's energy to counter. One with the ocean, he summoned the currents as the colossal waves rose up, throwing Banjo 10 feet into the skies and then bringing him crashing back down with the swift force of the tides.</p><p>*SLAM*</p><p>T.K.O.</p><p><em>DING DING DING DING DING</em></p><p>The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping and stomping their feet as excitement rippled through the arena.</p><p>Kaiji cheered with an uncontrollable wide grin showing the few teeth he had left. He didn't know how, but he knew full well that the most fierce wrestler in all of Japan had just been born again. In the glow of O-nami's transformation, he too began to reevaluate the untapped depths of his own potential, as if a hidden door had been unlocked within him. Perhaps it was time for him to reach the next level himself. "<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">Master Kai</a>..." he thought, "has a nice ring to it."</p><p>O-nami stood tall with a faint smile still firm on his expression. He opened his eyes and gave Banjo a playful gesture indicating once more how he could improve. He was his teacher, after all. Still dizzy from the slam, Banjo bowed in apology for letting the prior win get to his head. O-nami walked away without saying a word.</p><p>Something within him had shifted. He was no longer afraid. Harnessing the power of the currents, he could now control his emotions at will, embodying the tranquility of the still ocean or the ferocity of towering great waves as required.&nbsp;</p><p>The same day, he entered the tournaments and won effortlessly.</p><p>From that moment on, no vessel, big or small, could ever rock the deep serenity and relentless force of the <em>Great Waves &#8230;</em></p><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 1456w" sizes="100vw"><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png" width="1254" height="582" data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:582,&quot;width&quot;:1254,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:1132691,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:true,&quot;topImage&quot;:false,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!P9Cn!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2b720a64-7de3-4abe-9e9d-7d7fd3802987_1254x582.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><div><hr></div><p><strong>Please help me improve! How did you like this post?</strong></p><p>With your <em>anonymous</em> feedback, I can improve the newsletter.</p><ul><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/9941990b-f49a-4d1a-9986-d1e462849ece/1">&#128525; Loved it!</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/9941990b-f49a-4d1a-9986-d1e462849ece/2">&#128077; Good, but could be better.</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://a.feedletter.co/s/9941990b-f49a-4d1a-9986-d1e462849ece/3">&#128528; Meh... not interesting to me.</a></p></li></ul>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Failure to Launch]]></title><description><![CDATA[A flyby fiction about believing in yourself.]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/failure-to-launch</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/failure-to-launch</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 31 Dec 2022 18:01:01 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw"><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png" width="1024" height="1024" data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/f12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:1024,&quot;width&quot;:1024,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:1758484,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:false,&quot;topImage&quot;:true,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!0Scr!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff12edf80-9853-492d-bf81-00270c13d861_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p>Jackson Barnes was a force of nature. With his ungodly levels of focus, he would put his head down, crank up the rock music, and get into a state of flow so intense the people around him could only stand around and watch in awe.&nbsp;</p><p>Most people you know would struggle with building a piece of software that could make an impact. Not Jackson Barnes. For him, it was effortless. Graduating top of his class, he was arguably one of the best coders in town, perhaps even the world. His colleagues all despised him, through no fault of his own. They just couldn't gain empathy for his savage levels of productivity.</p><p>There was one problem, however. Jackson Barnes didn't believe in himself. While others would see his state of deep focus with awe, he couldn't get himself out of it. He just wanted to be in the zone and never understood the true potential of his powers. For better or for worse, Jackson Barnes was missing the bigger picture.</p><p>By the time he had graduated, he had already built three game-changing app prototypes. All with the potential to move the world forward. But he wouldn't launch a single one.</p><p>There was always some excuse.</p><p>"I'm just focused on learning right now," he would say. Fair enough. It's better to grow than try to put out a half-baked product. But what Jackson had was better quality than 99% of the "professional" stuff you could find on the market. "It's just not good enough yet." You could say he was a perfectionist, but really, he just couldn't get out of his comfort zone. His comfort zone was to create. A serial inventor of sorts. Always building, but never releasing. Never letting the world be the judge of his creations. Seems like all the awe he attracted had its side effects. It caused him to put too much pressure on himself.</p><p>Yup, you got that right, folks. Jackson Barnes was trapped in his head.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>It's the last day of school. Jackson was minding his own business in the library, working on one of his projects. His headphones were banging as the bass and snare drum raced each other in a fierce drum solo. All the while, he was oblivious to the career fair going on around. A sniper from a recently formed tech company takes notice. He had wandered about to an area he wasn't supposed to be in. Seems like he knew what he was doing. High Horse Interactive said the badge. Perhaps not the most prestigious places to work, a virtual slot machine company with the sole aim of making profits. They were notorious for their old school sales department known for one thing and one thing only&#8212; getting results.&nbsp;</p><p>A closer look at the badge would see the letters C.E.O. The top dog himself. It was none other than the legendary sales tycoon, now moving into software&#8212; B.J. "Axe" Johnson.</p><p>"Hey there, what do we have here?" asks Johnson with a look of intrigue as he walks over to Jackson.</p><p>Jackson wasn't interested. He didn't even take notice. But Johnson could tell that he had found something special. One glimpse of Jackson's screen and his eyes peered wide open. He knew he had hit the jackpot.</p><p>Johnson, of course, had some persuasion skills of his own. "Tough economy these days. You already have a job lined up, kid?"</p><p>Jackson flinched, now getting annoyed at the unwanted interruption. "Yeah, I'll find something."</p><p>Johnson got a reaction, check.</p><p>"OK, kid, as long as you have a plan. It's going to be hard to find something with this recession looming," said Johnson with a smirk on his face.</p><p>Jackson, now intrigued, stopped his music. Still looking down, gulped, "Recession?"</p><p>Hook, line, and sinker. Johnson had got his man.</p><p>"Yeah, you don't live underwater do you kid? There's a recession coming. Everyone's laying off their staff. By the thousands. You'd be lucky to even find a job in this economy".&nbsp;</p><p>Gulp.</p><p>Jackson really wasn't aware of any of this. He ignored the news and was too focused on his work. He had been in a university environment where he could channel all his energy into his projects. But now he was about to leave it, and a part of him was indeed uncertain about what was next. Alas, had he known better, he would have known that predictions aren't always accurate, and that momentum was on his side 100%, and that he was sitting on a goldmine if he just had the courage to take it to market.</p><p>But it was already too late. Johnson had reeled him in.</p><p>"Right, well, here's my card. If you ever want to come work in one of the hottest software shops in town, give me a ring. I'll see to it personally that we find you a rockstar position. You won't even have to do any interviews."</p><p>"Wow, no interviews? That sounds nice," Jackson said with a surprised look. Clearly, he wasn't very confident in his abilities. But Johnson had the eye. He knew he was capturing the big fish.</p><p>It was a turbulent couple of weeks. The conversation played like a broken record at the back of Jackson's head. His mind was now on the lookout for all things recession-related. He started seeing it everywhere. In the news, in conversations around him. His focus had been penetrated. He soon accepted Johnson's offer without even looking for what else was out there. The offer was appalling, and Johnson low-balled him. In his head, he had no leverage. He felt as if they were doing him a favor. He didn't even have to interview, and there was a recession looming after all. Little did he know he could have aced an interview anywhere in the world and made double, perhaps even triple, the salary he was offered. He just couldn't get himself to think bigger and believe in himself.</p><p>He arrived at High Horse with his head high. It turned out to be a mickey mouse operation with just a handful of people working there. Jackson would have a lot more responsibility than he had expected. But if there was one thing he was up for, it was the task.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>Time leaped forward like nobody's business. 22 went by in a blink, and Jackson watched the world pass in slow motion. He was soon 28, married, and finding less and less time for his own projects. He started getting known as J.B. around work. Known for setting a high bar and getting results. People came and went, but J.B. stayed at High Horse and made the ranks. He went from junior to senior to manager to even more manager, and with the help of J.B., High Horse went from a mickey mouse operation into Disneyland itself. </p><p>All this would have been great, except deep down he just wanted to follow his own path, which was causing him cognitive dissonance. He wanted to learn  and grow and reach his full potential. But instead, he had spent the years focused on growing High Horse instead. Something was missing in his life. But J.B. was a professional, so he gave it his all. He was one of the top performers at the company, but the momentum in his own endeavors started to fall flat.</p><p>As they say, if you don't have a&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-foundation">plan for your life</a>, someone else will. J.B. had the focus, skills, and determination to make anything he ever wanted happen and move the world forward. But he lacked the vision or the ability to step out of himself and see the bigger picture. He was caught in the currents like a <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/swimming-against-the-currents">fish swimming downstream</a>.</p><p>He had continued building apps on the side for the first few years but hadn't launched any. Over time, his coding skills were getting weaker, and all the promotions and Johnson's influence were pumping up his Ego and making him feel even more entitled and full of himself. His own projects got increasingly complicated, but he still couldn't bring himself to launch. He was still afraid of any criticism. He hadn't yet realized that his&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/circles-of-influence">circle of influence</a>&nbsp;could have such a big impact on the direction of his life.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>A couple of years later, right before his 30th birthday, J.B. had a moment of awakening. It was a regular day at the office, straight after he returned from New York from a conference it had taken him months to organize.&nbsp;</p><p>Seems like he had become a party planner now.</p><p>He still hadn't fully recovered from the Jet Lag or the hangover when, suddenly, without warning, one of his reports from the design department walked into his office.</p><p>"Hey, Jack," *cough* "Sorry, you got a minute?"&nbsp;</p><p>And from J.B., he had now become Jack. The rock music had faded and soon turned into slow Jazz. He was losing his edge and getting even more wrapped up in things of lesser concern.</p><p>"Hey there, you alright?" responded Jack quickly with a look of concern.</p><p>"Yeah, no, just uh, got some allergies," quipped the colleague.</p><p>"OK, sure, so what can I do for you, Max?"</p><p>Jack had always been a mentor to Max. Even though Max was an artist, Jack saw <em>potential</em> and had been grooming him to take over his role someday, just like Johnson was doing with him.</p><p>"Hey Jack, soo, yeah, I know you were proud of the event and all, but I've got a different vision for my life. I want to be learning and growing and reach my full potential. Not attending late-night conferences with motivational speakers in them. I've found myself a new job in New York."</p><p>Jack was now caught off guard.&nbsp;</p><p>How could Max have just gone out and found a job.. in New York? That's all the way across the country. With one brief encounter, all his beliefs about how things were supposed to work had been shattered. Jack, on the other hand, had just taken the first job he had been offered right in his backyard. Maybe he should have shopped around some more, he wondered.</p><p>"New York? But I thought you love it here in L.A.? Aren't you supposed to be a surfer dude?"</p><p>"Yeah, well, never really got the time to hit the waves. Was busy burning the midnight oil, as they say. Besides, it's at Bubblesoft!"</p><p>"Wow, Bubblesoft!? Good for you, dude. Look at you, all, Mr. Success-Story over here."</p><p>Jack was now a bit envious. Could he also perhaps work somewhere like Bubblesoft? He had many more skills than Max and would likely get paid much better. But he had never done any interviews till now. Would he have the courage to think bigger and believe this time? Let's find out &#8230;</p><p>"Wild. You know what, work is light these days. Why don't you just leave on Friday? Take some time for yourself."</p><p>"Wow, really, this Friday? You sure you don't need me to wrap things up."</p><p>"Nah, we'll handle it! Maybe go and hit the waves one last time while you still can."</p><p>And with that, the gigantic ocean waves had splashed all over Jack's plans to find a successor.</p><p>Later that night, he walks into his house with a grim look.</p><p>"You alright, Jack?" asks his wife, Liz, with a look of concern.</p><p>"Yeah. Max just quit. I'm not sure what happened. I thought the conference would have brought morale up. I even organized a bingo tournament, for god's sake."</p><p>"Oh no, honey, it's not your fault. I'm sure the event was great. Everyone has their own stuff they are dealing with."</p><p>"I suppose. I just don't know what I'm even doing here. I never wanted to be a manager and deal with any of this. I just want to go back and follow my own path."</p><p>"Well, what about that app you've been building? Why don't you just launch that? We have a year in savings. You can always take some time off."</p><p>"It's not ready yet. Besides, I just don't think it's good enough. I need to go back to the drawing board. I have a better idea. This one is going to change the world."</p><p>"OK, honey. You know best." said Liz trying not to offend Jack.</p><p>And so, once more. Jack goes back to his comfort zone&#8212; creating in isolation. He would now lose all the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/momentum-1208265">momentum</a>&nbsp;from his previous process and would be starting from scratch. Using the exact same process as before. We all know how that went last time.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>Life goes on, and a few more years pass by. His app was still &#8220;in development&#8221;, light years away from being done, and he still found some reason or the other to delay the launch. He always found something wrong with the product, but it was really his mind getting in the way.&nbsp;</p><p>The music stopped altogether now, and he kept himself busy to dull the silence. Perhaps there was something it could have taught him. If he only had the courage to listen.</p><p>He now had a mortgage, and his salary had grown significantly. He was in too deep and couldn't even think of leaving High Horse. He was ready to take over Johnson's role and run the company. That's what Johnson had been grooming him for this whole time. His own dreams were now a million years away.</p><p>It was time for the annual conference again, and J.B. was eager to get it going and pump everyone up. He planned to book the same venue in New York from three years ago and had all the activities planned out in his diary. It would be the best one yet.</p><p>He logs in to his computer and tries to book the venue&#8212; "Transaction Denied." He tried his other three corporate credit cards. Same result.</p><p>"Transaction Denied? It's only $10k. Why am I getting denied for such a small amount," he wondered.</p><p>He tries to find out what's up and walks into Johnson's office.</p><p>"Hey, Big J. I'm trying to book the venue, but all my cards got declined. You know what's up?" he asks eagerly and clearly a bit frustrated.</p><p>Johnson had a stern look on his face. "Listen, Jack, we've got some news. You might want to take a seat for this."</p><p>He didn't quite know what to make of it.</p><p>"Sure, Big J. What's happening?"</p><p>Johnson put his hands together, leaned forward, and started speaking slowly.</p><p>"Listen, Jack.. We are getting acquired."</p><p>Woh.</p><p>Jack froze like a deer caught in the headlights.</p><p>Johnson continues with the news&#8212; "This might come as a surprise, but they only want to hire the <em>core</em> <em>talent.</em> Not any of the managers, Jack. Unfortunately, we won't have a position for you any longer."</p><p>From being caught in the headlights to being completely run over. This was the last thing Jack could have expected.</p><p>"Wow, I don't know what to say, Big J&#8230; What about you?"</p><p>"Well, as you know, I'm getting old now. So I'll be taking the cash and retiring in the Bahamas. It's about time I call it a day."</p><p>"Wow, um, congrats, Big J! I don't suppose there's going to be any of that payout left over for us lowly managers, would there?" asked Jack slyly, though, in his head, he knew he would surely be getting a cut.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Jack. It doesn't work like that. The payout will be split between the executives and investors. We can't really offer anything to anyone else. You will be getting a generous severance package, however."</p><p>Perhaps not. Jack was now livid.</p><p>"Generous severance package!? What do you mean severance package? I built this place, Johnson. You wouldn't have anything without me!"</p><p>Johnson now scoffed, spitting out his drink as his tone grew tense, "You didn't build squat, kid! I built this place. ME. You hear me? I hired you. I took the risk. It was my money on the line. That's what matters in this business, kid. Skin in the game. You wanna get rich, you wanna control your time, you wanna be somebody? You put your own neck on the line. Don't be coming in here telling me I owe you anything. Nobody owes you anything, boy. Now get outta here before I change my mind even about that severance package."</p><p>Johnson had shown his true colors. How could J.B. have missed all of this? Years of frustration, expectations, and pressure had built up to this moment. </p><p>*POP*</p><p>"You know what, Johnson!? Screw you <em>and</em> your damn severance package!! You need to grow yourself a heart, old man. Enjoy the tan, you greedy pig!"</p><p>Johnson wasn&#8217;t phased.</p><p>"I'll send you a postcard!" he laughs as Jack storms out the door, forgetting to even take his belongings.</p><p>His own heart raced as he couldn't believe what had just happened. 10+ years of giving it his all and now this. Had he really just turned down his severance package? He didn't even know what was in it. What the hell was he thinking? He felt cheated, but deep down, he knew that Johnson also had a point. He was the one taking the risk, while J.B. had been playing it safe his whole life and following the path others had laid out for him. Still, it would have been nice to get something. Well, that ship had now softly sailed away.</p><p>His back was now against the wall. There was only one place left to go&#8212; forward. But would his mind let him?</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>His app was still not done, and he would soon be out of an income. In a state of shock, he rushed home. How would he break the news to his wife?</p><p>Before he could find the words to say. He noticed Liz standing in the hallway with a glowing smile which made him forget all his worries.</p><p>Until he heard the following few words come out of her mouth in slow motion.</p><p>"Jack, I'm pregnant!"</p><p>Panic. Had now set in full blast.</p><p>Time stood still as he couldn't believe what was happening. That severance package didn't sound so bad now, after all. The room was buzzing, and siren-like sounds picked up all around him. He felt something breaking inside of him.</p><p>"Jack? Did you hear me?"</p><p>He snapped himself out of it.</p><p>"Yes, of course. Sorry, oh my god, that's amazing!" He forced a smile as he rushed in to give his wife a hug.</p><p>"Jack, What's wrong? Something seems off," she said, realizing he was home early.</p><p>His cover was blown.</p><p>After catching his breath and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, he explained the situation. The timing couldn't have been worse.</p><p>"Oh, Jack, honey. I'm so sorry. Don't worry; you'll find a new job in no time. That Johnson always gave me the creeps anyway. I knew he was a sleazeball the minute I saw him. I think this is the best thing that could have happened to you."</p><p>Jack wasn't listening. He was too caught up in his emotions.</p><p>"I can't believe I was so stupid. I should have negotiated some equity when I got that job. I just didn't know how these things worked back then." He shouted angrily.</p><p>"It's fine, honey! It's just some money. We already have plenty. You never cared about this stuff anyway." consoled Liz.</p><p>"I know, I just feel cheated. I spent my whole life building that place and got nothing in return."</p><p>"That's not true, Jack. You've grown so much. You are the head of multiple departments. People look up to you. You have prestige, status, respect."</p><p>"Had Liz, Had! Now I've got nothing. Besides, I never wanted to do any of those things. I just wanted to follow my own path."</p><p>"Well, Jack, why don't you launch your app then? You will have all the equity in the world, and you can even ask some of your old team who got laid off to come work for you. Everyone loved you there."</p><p>"It's just. It's just. It's not good enough! I've overcomplicated it, Liz. I always just mess things up. I don't even remember how it works anymore. It's been so long, damn it, since I've really worked on this stuff."</p><p>He couldn't think straight now. He was wobbling as he walked around the house.&nbsp;</p><p>&#8220;You've always had a different way of looking at the world, Jack. That's why I fell for you in the first place. Just remember that at some point, you have to start believing in yourself. You have your two #1 fans cheering for you now." said Liz with a smile.</p><p>Her kind words brought him back into the moment. He decided to forget about what had happened and spend the rest of the day with Liz instead. Right now, it was time to celebrate!</p><p>Later that night, once Liz fell asleep, he opened up his laptop, hoping to get his app going again. But he couldn't get himself to focus like in the old days. Had he really lost his edge? All those years being a manager, and now he couldn't get his drive back. He tried for a few days to get back on top of it, but there was no creativity to be found. He stared aimlessly at the screen as he couldn't quite grasp how his former self had managed to make such a mess of things. The lights were all green this time, but he still couldn't see the vision. He turned on the T.V. The news was sour as usual, and Johnson's words about the recession were still looming deep in his subconscious years later.</p><p>He soon grew frustrated and gave up on his futile attempts. With the baby on the way, he was even more afraid to take the risk. "Who am I kidding? Maybe Johnson was right. I'm just not cut out for this."</p><p>He walks in sheepishly with his head down.</p><p>"It's not ready, Liz. I'm sorry, I just need more time. I'm going to the career fair at the convention center this weekend. They'll have a bunch of recruiters there. I'll be able to get a much better job in no time. I need to get my head back on straight, and then I can work on the app on the side. "</p><p>He couldn't contain his tears anymore as Liz gave him a hug. That was the only thing he needed at that moment.</p><p>Over 10 years of working on his projects on the side and he was right where he started. This time the tables had turned. Instead of focusing on his own dreams, he was willingly subjecting himself to a career fair. The old Jackson Barnes was nowhere to be found. Something was still holding him back.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>He got his resume ready three days later but hated every moment. Recounting everything he had done to build Johnson's company, he was filled with disbelief. He printed 100 business cards and was ready for the job fair, but deep down, he knew this wasn't where he belonged. He wouldn't be able to work anywhere again, not after what happened with Johnson.</p><p>He entered the convention center. It was massive. There were flashing screens everywhere, making him feel like he was at Times Square, crossed with a cubicle farm.</p><p>Thousands of people all around him. They all seemed more qualified than he was. He even questioned whether he could find a job at all. He had never even done an interview before. Taking the easy way with Johnson didn't turn out to be such a blessing in the long run, after all. He should have believed in himself and taken&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-hard-way">the hard way</a>.</p><p>He walked around aimlessly until he found a booth that caught his eye. He was about to head over and get himself a new job when he caught another glimpse of something. It was a familiar face he could recognize anywhere.</p><p>"Max! long time no see, buddy." He said with a nervous smile, trying to hide the fact that he was now unemployed.</p><p>"Woh... Jack! What are you doing here, you old dog?" quipped Max as he rushed in to hug Jack. He had a sudden sense of <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">Deja-Vu</a>.</p><p>In reality, Jack was only a few years older than Max. But his relentless work ethic had caused him to rise the ranks swiftly at a young age.</p><p>"How's Bubblesoft?" asked Jack, hoping to find some leads about any openings.</p><p>"Bubblewhat? .. Oh yeah, right. Duh. Forgot about that. Yeah, you know how it is. It's all the same. Just another job, really. I'm working part-time now, barely even giving it much thought," joked Max.</p><p>Jack was now confused. His thoughts started firing like a machine gun. How is he just working part-time? How can he afford to live like that? What about the economy and the recession looming? Doesn't he care about any of this? What is he doing with his life?</p><p>Max responded before Jack could reply.</p><p>"I'm building an app on the side. That's my real project. The job is just a side hustle now. I just do my best and leave everything in the office. No drama, no drain, no hassle."</p><p>"An app!?" scoffed Jack as if he had just been punched in the face.</p><p>"Here, I'll show you what I got so far," replied Max before Jack could get his thoughts together.</p><p>He takes out his phone and opens up an app with a scribbled-looking icon. It looked something quite similar, in fact much better than what Jack had been building now for the last few <em>years</em> and couldn't even remember how to get working anymore.</p><p>In a state of shock, Jack didn't know what hit him.</p><p>"Wow&#8230; You umm.. made this?"</p><p>"Yeah, I've been learning how to code on the side. Started last year with some courses on Udemy and practiced every minute I got by writing my own sample projects and reading books. Earlier this year, I decided it was time to go for it. I started building this a few months back. It's still a prototype, and I still have to work out some kinks to make it shippable, but I'd say I'll get there in a few months tops."</p><p>Jack was speechless.</p><p>He had spent the last few <em>years</em> building an app very similar to this and was still struggling. He'd been coding for over 10 years and considered himself an expert. What was going on? Max, on the other hand, was a frikkin ARTIST. He didn't even know how to code the last time Jack saw him. How did he manage to pull THIS off?</p><p>"Umm, what language did you build this in?" whimpered Jack, now trying to make small talk and mask his surprise.</p><p>"Oh, duh, it's an iPhone app, so I obviously learned Swift. Why would you use anything else these days?" replied Max.</p><p>"Well, I usually build mine in C++," snapped Jack defensively.</p><p>"Wow, C++ for an iPhone app!? That's wild. What are you, a dinosaur?" joked Max.</p><p>"Uhh, It's what I know best. I have years of experience and have always built my stuff in that. It would be much faster than using something I don't know," argued Jack, although now questioning the words as they came out of his mouth.</p><p>"The world has evolved, Jack. I looked into learning C++, but it would take too long, so I just took the fast path. Swift has thousands of hours of development behind it and is specifically designed to make building iPhone apps easier. So we might as well leverage all the tools available, right?"</p><p>The sky turns orange as the light peaks in from the nearby windows. The world moves fast, indeed. Jack stands there, frozen in time. He was being taught how to code by a complete novice. The room was now spinning like a blurry spindle. The lights only seem bright when you can't escape their gaze. Max had just completely shattered everything he had ever known. He begins to ponder &#8230; "I've been fooling myself all along. I'm no expert. I'm just stuck in my old ways."</p><p>The room dissolves entirely, and the light floods in like hot water escaping its&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/boiling-point">boiling point</a>&nbsp;in a pressure cooker. The ocean, mountains, and sky soon follow, imploding in a flash of light so intense it all submerged into one bright pearl, giving life to the entire universe before his eyes. Time stopped once more as he was frozen in space with no sight of himself.</p><p>At the moment which stood still, he could peak into the future and see the wise words quoted in <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/beginners-mind">next week's flyby</a> &#8230; <em>"In the beginner's mind, there are many possibilities. In the expert's mind, there are few."</em> His Ego had now been shattered, and something inside him started to shift. *SNAP*. He could feel his brain getting rewired. His eyes were wide open now, back straight up. The bright pearl explodes, giving rise to everything once more. He could see the world being placed together piece by piece, followed by the room and everything around him. J.B. was starting to lift himself up. He was finally starting to look up and see the bigger picture.</p><p>*POP*</p><p>"Well, I'll be damned. I'm impressed, Max. What do you plan to do with this?" said J.B., now genuinely curious.</p><p>"What do you mean&nbsp;<em>do with this</em>? I'm going to launch it and then sell the crap out of it!" snapped Max.</p><p>"How are you going to get noticed? It's a crowded market," questioned J.B.</p><p>"I'm documenting my journey on Twitter and YouTube. Building some fans for when I launch and getting some huge tips along the way. But right now, I'm still really just learning how to code at the moment. I'll figure that out when I need to." said Max as the words "learning how to code" sent another tremor down Jack's spine. "That's where the fun is, though, right? Figuring things out. If you already know the answer, why bother even doing something?" snapped Max.</p><p>Walls were now crumbling before his eyes. He was starting to see a new reality. A reality where he would decide his own path. A reality where he would put his godlike focus on one thing and one thing only&#8212; figuring things out. He would go back to the drawing board once again, but this time, he wouldn't be afraid to make mistakes and look like a beginner.</p><p>"You know what, Max, I gotta run home. We should catch up sometime." He stuttered in a rush, almost shaking.</p><p>"Hey, yeah man. You got it. I'd love to pick your brain on some of this coding stuff."</p><p>"Well, you seem to be doing great. But let me know whatever you need."</p><p>"You got it, Jack! It's about keeping your circle of influence elevated, you know? And I'd like to have you in mine!" smiled Max as he waved goodbye. Elevated indeed, J.B. had found a positive influence himself, someone much younger than he was, but showing him what was possible when someone believed in themselves.</p><p>J.B. rushed out the door in what felt like a drunken stupor. The room was a blur, and he could feel the sweat on his forehead. He opened the door and gasped in all the air he could. He coughed a few times and dropped to his knees. His mind was overloaded. Suddenly, in a flash of insight, he could see the vision. All of it.</p><p>He would have to let go of his Ego and fear. That was what was holding him back this whole time. He knew what he had to do. He would go home and start building his product from scratch. This time with the intention of&nbsp;<em>shipping</em>&nbsp;<em>it.</em> He would let go of his need to be always right. He would embrace true failure, ask for <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/market-feedback">feedback</a> and embrace creativity. He would embrace not knowing. For the first time in years, J.B. was about to become a beginner again.</p><p>The door opens with a bang as he rushes in, startling Liz.</p><p>"Jack, are you alright!?" she shouted with a look of concern.</p><p>"Yeah, never been better, babe," he shouted excitedly.</p><p>"It's time to fly."</p><p>Liz closed in with an excited smile, "You've got this, babe!" she said as she kissed him with a vote of confidence.</p><div class="pullquote"><p>*</p></div><p>He goes to his study and immediately starts planning out the rework. He would take all the best parts of his previous <em>experiments</em> and remix them into a new app. His mind was moving at 50,000 miles per hour. He threw out his Ego, along with all the complexity it created. He would just build the minimum required to develop solid functionality, using the latest tools and resources to make his job more manageable. The clock was ticking, and J.B. was putting his foot on the pedal. His creativity had been awakened once more, and it was time to unleash the beast within. That's right, folks. Jackson Barnes was about to be born again.</p><p>The next morning, he was up at 5 am without even setting an alarm. He started learning Swift and rebuilding his app from the ground up. He followed a bunch of tutorials, took some <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">courses on Udemy</a>, and built some sample projects to make his mistakes in. He threw out the fluff, discarded more work than his previous self had probably built in a lifetime, and embraced learning with a true beginner's mind.</p><p>He was no longer bound by a job. The layoff was a blessing in disguise, and the interaction with Max had fueled his purpose. His golden handcuffs had been unshackled, and he had more than three years in savings now. He would put all his time and energy into building his MVP, A term he had now embraced. He decided not to get a job for now. His frugal lifestyle had actually come in handy. He would give himself a year to get his first project off the ground.</p><p>Momentum flies fast when you are on fire. And Jackson Barnes was, indeed, on fire. The rock music was back in full throttle, and if anyone saw him, they would rethink their own potential instantly. Anything is possible when you stop getting in your own way. All he needed was a tiny lift in vision to see the path. The work ethic he had developed over the years would simply take care of the rest. And indeed, it did.</p><p>Time blinks once more, and the seconds stretch out to what feels like years. Alpha state was no joke. Jackson Barnes was back and moving at&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/stealth-mode">the speed of sound</a>. Whenever he hit an obstacle, he would learn what was needed or ask for help. He no longer kept things to himself in the guise of perfection. He embraced learning, being wrong, not knowing, and experienced more joy and fulfillment than he had ever before. He had his app done in just over three months of pure focus. With over two and a half years in savings and all the experience he could ever need. It was <em>showtime!</em></p><p>He reached the point where he was finally ready for something that had taken him over 10 years to do.</p><p><em>Hit Launch.</em></p><p>This was only the beginning. It was time to let the real learnings begin and feedback pour in. Something he was looking forward to now.</p><p>Jackson Barnes was indeed back. With an unshakable smile on his face, that, this time, couldn't even be broken by time itself.</p><div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png 424w, 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src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png" width="1024" height="573" data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:573,&quot;width&quot;:1024,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:1011683,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:true,&quot;topImage&quot;:false,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qp7W!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F44a33f9b-dbac-4d5d-8cdf-70296b82305d_1024x573.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 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href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/1/a559294e-76bf-463f-a741-c0312b0fc830">&#128525; Loved it!</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/2/a559294e-76bf-463f-a741-c0312b0fc830">&#128077; Good, but it could be better.</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/3/a559294e-76bf-463f-a741-c0312b0fc830">&#128528; Not interesting to me.</a></p><div><hr></div></li></ul><p>If you enjoyed this story, then check out <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">Deja-Vu</a>, A short story about looking up. It may or may not be connected to this one :)</p><div class="subscription-widget-wrap-editor" data-attrs="{&quot;url&quot;:&quot;https://www.startupflyby.com/subscribe?&quot;,&quot;text&quot;:&quot;Subscribe&quot;,&quot;language&quot;:&quot;en&quot;}" data-component-name="SubscribeWidgetToDOM"><div class="subscription-widget show-subscribe"><div class="preamble"><p class="cta-caption">Startup Flyby is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></div><form class="subscription-widget-subscribe"><input type="email" class="email-input" name="email" placeholder="Type your email&#8230;" tabindex="-1"><input type="submit" class="button primary" value="Subscribe"><div class="fake-input-wrapper"><div class="fake-input"></div><div class="fake-button"></div></div></form></div></div><p></p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Deja-Vu]]></title><description><![CDATA[A short story about looking up]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 09 Nov 2022 19:56:00 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw"><img 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https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Wx-H!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ed3383b-b0fe-484e-9205-f34074f12360_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 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The future is here.</figcaption></figure></div><p>The sky turns orange as I stare out from the jaded rooftop. The air is cold, but the fire lamps around keep us warm. The purple streaks of light cut through the dark gray clouds, creating a render so divine it made me question everything I had ever known. For a few moments that instant, time stood still. The people all around me seemed unaware of the beauty that surrounded them. All they had to do was look up. But they were mesmerized by the event instead. A work conference with loud music and fancy cocktails. The boss and his crew had flown us all to New York City for the week. Somehow they never had the funds to give us a decent raise, but there was always a budget to fly us around the country and get wasted. Supposedly this stuff boosts morale. Yeah, right. They even hired a motivational speaker to pump us up. I really couldn't care less.</p><p>Hi, my name is Max. I'm turning 25 next week. This was supposed to be my dream job. I started straight out of college as a UX designer, but I'm really an artist. A real artist. The kind who paints with their hands, not on some mickey-mouse digital tablet. I only do that at work. Yes, it's true, I don't really have the time or energy to paint when I get home anymore, so I suppose I'm more of the latter kind. But isn't everyone here the same? I look around. Everyone else seems rather content and happy to be there. Perhaps it's just me. Why can't I just get myself to sit still and not always question things?</p><p>I sip my drink as I hear some footsteps approaching. It was Mike, the new intern.&nbsp;</p><p>"Hey, Max! Woh, this place is rad, am I right? Did you hear that guy on stage? I'm so pumped!" he shouted excitedly. He had only been here three days and clearly still had his gusto.</p><p>You see, it wasn't always like this. The first 3-6 months were great for me as well. I was learning, growing, making friends. Everything was a challenge. Then it started getting repetitive. It was all just about the deadlines, and daily check-ins, and the micro-managed meetings. Oh, god, the meetings. I wasn't even doing work that mattered anymore. My colleagues all left, and I just stayed on the path of least resistance. The day was draining all my energy, and the weekend was spent recovering. I wasn't learning or growing anymore. At that point, everything else just falls apart.</p><p>"Yeah, wild. Did you see the sunset over there?" I try to stay calm and not bum out the intern with my frosty attitude. "Oh yeah, no, I didn't see it. That's cool. Hey, you wanna go inside? They are about to start the bingo tournament. Jack told me to go grab you," he replied, eager to get back in.</p><p>I feel my eyes twitch. Jack was my boss, and I couldn't believe he had sent an intern to go get me. For BINGO! What a jerk. I scream inside. What am I doing here!? I stare out at the moon. It's here every night. No complaints. Just shows up, standing tall. It's been here longer than I have, or even my parents. Older than any human being that ever lived. Maybe I could learn something from the moon.</p><p>"Uhh, you coming?" I hear in a somewhat annoyed tone.</p><p>The moon wouldn't let some intern boss it around.</p><p>"Yeah, sure Mike. Let's go play some bingo!"</p><p>I look back at the universal canvas. The camera on my state-of-the-art phone wouldn't be able to capture this moment. I close my eyes and take a mental snapshot as I head inside to go play some bingo. It's not like I ever had a choice.</p><div class="pullquote"><p><code>*</code></p></div><p>I wake up the next morning and immediately start looking for a new job. I found a UX role right here in New York. It would be a big change from the California sun, but it was at none other than BubbleSoft! Supposedly one of the best places in the world to work. I applied instantly. I contacted the company and let them know I'm in town for a few days to try and speed up the process. I had nothing to lose. To my surprise, they got back and arranged a phone screen for the day. I passed. They invite me for a day of intense interviews two days later. I did well, too well. So well that they offered me a role as a project manager. I couldn't believe it. It all happened so fast. All because I dared to ask. I wasn't quite sure what a project manager even did, but I was excited to be one. I would be learning things again and be able to grow, I thought. At least for the first 3-6 months, I negotiated. I might not have time for my art, but the salary they offered me was <em>double</em> my previous one. That would surely make up for it, right? I try and reassure myself nervously as I catch my flight home.</p><p>I break the news to Jack-off. Oh, sorry, I mean Jack. He didn't seem to be too interested or needed much notice. Said I could leave on Friday. That made me feel special.</p><p>I decided to take the next month off and enjoy my life. It was a struggle to even make that happen. My new employer wanted me to start right away. I didn't even work there yet, and they were trying to control my time. I stood my ground, just like the moon would. I was starting to pick things up, it seems.</p><p>I managed to get a month off in between. This was unheard of in the "real world."</p><p>The first day off was a total shock. Woh. It's Monday, and I don't have to go to work? This is wild. I spent the whole day at a nearby beach. At first, I even felt guilty being there. Should I be here? Everyone else is at work. That thought didn't last a chance as I looked up. A gigantic wave the size of a small mountain was headed my way in what felt like slow motion. I was in awe. The foam sparkled like diamonds in the bright blue sky as the misty droplets splashed on my face. I couldn't hold myself back. The surf was up, and you know damn well I caught the waves! I hadn't felt this alive in years.</p><p>Since graduation, it had felt like&nbsp;<em>blink</em>, and my whole life just passed by in a flash.</p><p>The ocean had its own serenity. I came back the next day for another round. The golden sands felt as crisp as the warm sun on my skin. Just the right amount of warmth. What a beautiful day. I brought my canvas with me today. Would I really get down to paint once more? Too slow. I was already on my second piece. The sea was deep blue, and the sky turned a pinkish hue. I had captured the light in its element. Every detail, seized by subsequent brush strokes, rang melodic to my ears.</p><p>I was able to listen to music just for the sake of it. I picked up new skills, learned how to paint with oils, and even managed to design my own surfboard. My growth was compounding at the speed of light. It was wild how much you could achieve if you just had the time and energy to think clearly. It didn't even feel like work. I thought it would be pretty cool to see my surfboards in the real world someday. Someday, perhaps, but today, I wouldn't know where to begin.</p><p>The days get more and more calming. I have no schedule and wake up with the sun, naturally. I hit the waves and then focus on what truly matters. I am free to live exactly as I want.&nbsp;</p><p>I was starting to get my drive back and thought about all the things I could do with my life. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm hit with an enormous wave of anxiety. I have a week left before I head to New York. The dread kicks in. No more ocean, waves, sunshine, art, learning. I've been in the Golden State for the past 5 years. Why did I never come here before? The irony of the situation hit me in the face. The pursuit of money had led me to miss out on what I wanted to do most. I had the money now but no time to spend it. Perhaps that's why my apartment is filled with junk I don't need. It'll all be heading to storage soon, where I'll be paying rent for the next, I don't even know how many years. What a bummer. It's too late to back out now. I've already signed the contract.</p><p>I head into the sunset to go pack my stuff. I look up to the moon, disheartened. What are you trying to teach me?</p><p>I try and console myself. Usually, the first few months at a new job are always fun, and I would be learning things. Why didn't it feel this way, though? I realized I was&nbsp;<em>already</em>&nbsp;learning things now, but the stuff&nbsp;I&nbsp;wanted to learn. I should have taken three months off instead. Nope, can't afford it. I shake my head.</p><p>All I could think about now was work and what&#8217;s next. My mind is cluttered, and I lose sight of the moment in front of me. I stop heading to the beach once more and get wrapped up in sorting things out.</p><p>The rest of the week disappears into thin air. It never stood a chance.</p><div class="pullquote"><p><code>*</code></p></div><p>I arrive in New York on Sunday night with a grim look on my face. I have to start work the next day. I wake up late. It's been weeks since I last used an alarm. I forgot how obnoxious they are. I also forgot about the time difference, and the jet lag is hitting me hard now. I rush to get in to work on time.</p><p>I managed to make it, just a few minutes late. There was some kind of welcome committee at the entrance. It seemed like they hired a cheer squad from a '90s toy store. They were over the top excited, "Welcome to BubbleSoft, Bubblers! Today is going to be the best day of your life! Woooohoooo!"</p><p>Bubblers!? What is this, a kindergarten cult? What have I gotten myself into? I shake my head in frustration. I miss the calm waves of the ocean, splashing in my face just long enough to drown my thoughts, leaving only the fantastic blue planet in front of me.</p><p>"Ok, Bubblers! Time for the office tour! LEEEETS GOOO!!!"</p><p>There seemed to be some kind of queue forming. I soon realized there were at least a hundred more people starting today, and I was just one of them. Not sure why I thought it would be just me. I join in like a fish caught in the currents.</p><p>The office is grand. I've never seen a building so large. They even have a snow room. I have no idea why. Once you look past the amenities, though, it was just an endless sea of desks. They don't even have walls here. At least my previous job had some privacy.</p><p>I meet my new team. Apparently, there's a meeting going on. I was introduced to my boss Steve. He was not one for formalities. A quick hi, and then it was straight to work. I heard him speak to one of our colleagues. "Our esteemed client wants this done by tomorrow. Please reply within the hour, address her as Madam, and be very polite." he asserted sharply. What a jerk, I thought. Who talks like that anymore? Is this what I'm going to have to do as well? I even catch myself starting to miss Jack for a second.&nbsp;<em>Woh, did I just say that?</em></p><p>I couldn't get myself to stay awake. Perhaps it was the jet lag.</p><p>I sit around aimlessly for a bit until a quirky girl walks in. She was about my age and wore giant round glasses and a beanie hat. "Hey, I'm Mia. Nice to meet you!" Her curly brown hair flowed through to waist height. She was about 5ft 5in tall, and I might just have stopped in my tracks.</p><p>After the meeting, we spoke briefly, and I found out she grew up in the same town as me. "Wow, what are the odds of that!?" I gasp. "I know, wild, right!" she laughed excitedly. It turns out she was also an artist and worked on the other side of the floor. I immediately regretted taking the project manager role. Should I switch back to being an artist? Could I even do that? This is a job, I remind myself. I can't just do whatever I want. Plus, the salary for this role was much higher, and I had already signed the lease on an expensive apartment. I wouldn't be able to afford that on an artist's salary. "See you later!" she smiled. Later indeed.</p><p>I go to the break room to grab a coffee. Perhaps that'll wake me up.</p><p>This is unreal. I can't believe it's day one, and I'm already sick of this place. I wait in line for coffee. There's a young man with headphones on, bobbing his head to techno music. Everyone else seems so happy to be here. What is with me?</p><p>He turns back as I almost crash into him, still not fully awake. He pauses for a few seconds, then smiles after staring at me suspiciously, "Hey, you doing alright? You look disgruntled!".</p><p>I'm caught off guard. It seems my cover is blown.</p><p>"Oh, no, it's just my first day."</p><p>"Haha, Wow! well, sounds like you've made a huge mistake then," he quipped jokingly, though we both knew he meant it.</p><p>"Ah, sorry, it's just the jet lag," I awkwardly lie as I shake my head in embarrassment.</p><p>"Alright, well, let me know if I can help you with anything," he smiled. "Welcome to BubbleSoft! I'm Sebastion, but everyone calls me Seb."</p><p>"You got it! Thanks, I'm Max," I respond with a sigh of relief. He was a bit too enthusiastic for my taste.</p><p>Mia walks in.</p><p>"Who was that?" I ask, still shaken from the encounter.</p><p>"Oh, that's Seb. He's our top gun data analyst. BubbleSoft wouldn't be in business without him."</p><p>Wow, I thought. He must really love his job.</p><p>I decide it's best to just accept my situation. I blend in and try to make the most of it.&nbsp;</p><p>The next few days are quite boring. Until one day, I hear some ruckus in the break room.</p><p>I rush in to find out what's happening.</p><p>"Did you hear Seb quit!?" I overheard Mia. "What!? I thought he was our top gun? I thought he loved it here. What happened!?" I ask in a rapid-fire succession of excitement. I wasn't quite sure why I was so shocked. Why do I even care about this? God, I hate having a job. It just messes with my head and priorities.</p><p>"I'm not sure," responded Mia. "It was something weird about it being the&nbsp;<em><a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">Year of the Tiger</a></em>," she shrugged as she headed back to her desk, far away on the other side of the floor. Same floor, yet light years away.</p><p>With Seb leaving, I was questioning whether I was the only one who, indeed, didn't feel like they belonged there. But there wasn't any time to question things now. Steve had an urgent task for me.</p><p>A few weeks later, BubbleSoft was still standing. Guess he wasn't as big of a deal as everyone thought. "Everyone is replaceable ..." I mumble under my breath.</p><p>I put my head down, forget about my dreams and blend into my new life.</p><div class="pullquote"><p><code>*</code></p></div><p>A few years passed by ...</p><p>I'm turning 28 soon, out of shape, and starting to lose some of my hair. I stayed in the same job, and life just passed by once more. The expensive lease kept me locked into the paycheck. The rest of it went to upgrading my lifestyle to match the fancy apartment. I stopped learning after the first month and didn't have time for my art. The hours were long, and the job was sucking the life out of me as usual.</p><p>Mia left a few weeks ago. I didn't see much of her anyway. Work was taking too much of my time, and we rarely crossed paths. It's surprising how much distance there can be between two ends of the same room when you are glued to a screen all day.</p><p>Steve was still a jerk. The job involved&nbsp;<em>a lot</em>&nbsp;more meetings than I was used to, and everything I needed to pick up was about the project, nothing I could use outside of work or that was interesting to me. The rest of my time just went into babysitting external clients. What a drag.</p><p>Later that week, in a weird twist of fate, I'm back at a conference on the same rooftop from three years ago.</p><p>Nothing has changed.</p><p>I have a sudden sense of&nbsp;<em>Deja-vu.</em></p><p>I look up at the glass skyscrapers full of people. The light reflects the sunset once more as I sip my drink. I can see it in their shadows. Everyone seems happy. But what does that really have to do with me?</p><p>I look up to the moon. It's still here. I'm stopped in my tracks and begin to ponder. I zoom out like a telescopic lens and put myself in its shoes. It's seen it all. Millions of years of evolution. Countless civilizations. The earth must look so small from up there, softly spinning in slow motion. You can't even see the people, or me, or my problems. Everything is just a blip in existence. Yet, from down here, it was the whole world. All we get is a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things. If other people enjoy selling their time, that's fine. Not me! Why waste it doing something I AM not passionate about? I'm finally starting to see what the moon was trying to tell me this whole time ...</p><p>My insight is suddenly, out of nowhere, broken by a hand clenching my shoulder firmly.</p><p>"Hey! You," I hear in a familiar voice I couldn't quite place.</p><p>I turn around swiftly as a chill rushes down my spine.&nbsp;</p><p>"Time to fly."</p>
      <p>
          <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">
              Read more
          </a>
      </p>
   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[An Hour a Day]]></title><description><![CDATA[It's a cold and gloomy morning.]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/an-hour-a-day</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/an-hour-a-day</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 03 Nov 2022 12:00:28 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw"><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png" width="1024" height="1024" data-attrs="{&quot;src&quot;:&quot;https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png&quot;,&quot;srcNoWatermark&quot;:null,&quot;fullscreen&quot;:null,&quot;imageSize&quot;:null,&quot;height&quot;:1024,&quot;width&quot;:1024,&quot;resizeWidth&quot;:null,&quot;bytes&quot;:1752323,&quot;alt&quot;:null,&quot;title&quot;:null,&quot;type&quot;:&quot;image/png&quot;,&quot;href&quot;:null,&quot;belowTheFold&quot;:false,&quot;topImage&quot;:true,&quot;internalRedirect&quot;:null,&quot;isProcessing&quot;:false,&quot;align&quot;:null,&quot;offset&quot;:false}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!pIA9!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4a0234c6-12b6-4ed4-8e95-f0ef2cf611ef_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p><em>It's a cold and gloomy morning. The roaring thunderclouds clap as the lightning strikes in a blinding flash. The storm erupts in its final form, but all I can think of is the inside of my head pounding. The last thing I would want to do right now is to get grinding.</em></p><p>Yes, it happens&#8212;the cycles of up and down, productivity and rest, hot and cold.</p><p>On days like this, it's hard to get anything done. But skipping a day can break your&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/momentum-1208265">momentum</a>.</p><p>This is where habits and routines kick in. Seb realized this in the&nbsp;<em><a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">Year of the Tiger</a>&nbsp;</em>and created a&nbsp;<em>Power Hour</em>&nbsp;for himself. An hour of pure focus where you work on your dreams regardless of whatever else is going on. If you want to find out what happened when he missed a day and what it took to get back, read the&nbsp;<em>full</em>&nbsp;story&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger">here</a>.</p><p>Whether&nbsp;it's <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/flying-solo">building a tech startup</a>, writing a&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/top-six-books-for-entrepreneurs">book</a>, starting a YouTube channel, or simply mastering a skill, an hour a day of <em>focused</em> effort will <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/compounding-in-life-1154625">compound</a> into a mountain of awe before you realize it.</p><p>I keep my&nbsp;<em>Power Hour</em>&nbsp;early in the morning as it's easiest to plan, but whatever works for you is fine. It's about keeping yourself going even when you <em>don't feel like it at all.</em>&nbsp;</p><p>Well, now, would you look at that? I managed to get some work done despite the choppy start. And I'm ready to tackle the next challenge. Guess this day will turn out fine after all. I hope it does for you as well :)</p><p>So, what's in store for your&nbsp;<em>Power Hour?</em></p><div><hr></div><p>P.S - Stay Tuned for&nbsp;<em><a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/deja-vu">DejaVu</a></em>, a short story about looking up. It will be heading to your inbox sometime next week.</p><div><hr></div><p><strong>Please help me improve! How did you like this post?</strong></p><p>With your anonymous feedback, I can improve the newsletter.</p><ul><li><p><a href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/1/9752c9e2-a0ea-4538-ba02-2e9a8150dd4d">&#128525; Loved it!</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/2/9752c9e2-a0ea-4538-ba02-2e9a8150dd4d">&#128077; Good, but it could be better.</a></p></li><li><p><a href="https://feedletter.co/feedback/give/3/9752c9e2-a0ea-4538-ba02-2e9a8150dd4d">&#128528; Not interesting to me.</a></p></li></ul>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Year of the Tiger]]></title><description><![CDATA[A short story about following your dreams]]></description><link>https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.startupflyby.com/p/year-of-the-tiger</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Sohail Mehra]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 15 Oct 2022 02:22:23 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!kzN_!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24185cee-a309-4e86-aae0-65b9f9712bb6_1024x1024.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="captioned-image-container"><figure><a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!kzN_!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24185cee-a309-4e86-aae0-65b9f9712bb6_1024x1024.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM"><div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!kzN_!,w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24185cee-a309-4e86-aae0-65b9f9712bb6_1024x1024.png 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https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!kzN_!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24185cee-a309-4e86-aae0-65b9f9712bb6_1024x1024.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high"></picture><div class="image-link-expand"><div class="pencraft pc-display-flex pc-gap-8 pc-reset"><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container restack-image"><svg role="img" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 20 20" fill="none" stroke-width="1.5" stroke="var(--color-fg-primary)" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><g><title></title><path d="M2.53001 7.81595C3.49179 4.73911 6.43281 2.5 9.91173 2.5C13.1684 2.5 15.9537 4.46214 17.0852 7.23684L17.6179 8.67647M17.6179 8.67647L18.5002 4.26471M17.6179 8.67647L13.6473 6.91176M17.4995 12.1841C16.5378 15.2609 13.5967 17.5 10.1178 17.5C6.86118 17.5 4.07589 15.5379 2.94432 12.7632L2.41165 11.3235M2.41165 11.3235L1.5293 15.7353M2.41165 11.3235L6.38224 13.0882"></path></g></svg></button><button tabindex="0" type="button" class="pencraft pc-reset pencraft icon-container view-image"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="20" height="20" viewBox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="currentColor" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2 lucide-maximize-2"><polyline points="15 3 21 3 21 9"></polyline><polyline points="9 21 3 21 3 15"></polyline><line x1="21" x2="14" y1="3" y2="10"></line><line x1="3" x2="10" y1="21" y2="14"></line></svg></button></div></div></div></a></figure></div><p><em>Every 12 years, the lunar cycle lands on the Tiger. A symbol of courage and strength. 2022. This was the year Seb was going to awaken his dreams and realize financial freedom. Although he wasn't quite sure how the Chinese Zodiac worked, he had fully embraced the mythology and was ready to hop aboard the auspices.</em></p><p>Seb woke up at the crack of dawn. "Year of the Tiger," he whispered as he prepared to conquer the day. He had a fire in his belly and the drive to succeed. He had quit his job a few weeks back and was a week away from finishing the Udemy course he was building.</p><p>Seb was a data analyst by trade. He was an expert in his field but had gotten sick of the grind and wanted to take things into his own hands. He planned to teach what he knew to cover some of his income and would figure the rest out along the way.</p><p>He saw other courses about Data Science, making six figures on Udemy. Many of these were created by people he felt were less skilled than he was. The quality was also subpar. He could surely create a better one, he figured.</p><p>He had already started learning the skills needed to succeed before he left his job. He read&nbsp;<a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/top-six-books-for-entrepreneurs">books on entrepreneurship</a>, took courses on Filming, Video Editing, Public Speaking, and bought all the fancy equipment. Heck, he even took some courses on how to build courses.&nbsp;</p><p>He was all in.</p><p>New York City wasn't cheap, however. He only had a few months in savings left. Unfortunately, his landlord was about to raise the rent because the city was ALIVE again, and there was always someone across the block ready to offer the market price for the Upper West Side. He wouldn't last long without some kind of income coming in.</p><p>Seb was on the clock.</p><p>He went straight to his desk after his morning yoga and meditation routine. He skipped breakfast to take advantage of his fasting state. This was what he called&nbsp;<em>The Power Hour</em>, where his mind and energy were at their peak, and he was in a state of pure flow. He would get his most important tasks done straight away.</p><p>Today, he was going to film his final unit.</p><p>He started reviewing his script and making notes.</p><p>"This is it, the final stretch,"  he thought.</p><p><strong>*BZZZ BZZZ*</strong></p><p>"That's odd. Who could be calling this early in the morning?" he wondered.&nbsp;</p><p>He checked his phone.</p><p><em>Mickey Calling.</em></p><p>"Mickey!? What does he want?" Seb gasped, bewildered.&nbsp;</p><p>Mickey was Seb's old high school buddy. They were tight a decade ago but had lost touch since then. "I should really start turning my phone off. Power Hour is sacred," he grunted as he picked up anxiously.</p><p>"SEE-BASTION! how ya doing ol bud!?" he heard in a familiar southern accent. "Mickey! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Seb chuckled. "Hey listen, I'm in The Big Apple for the weekend. What say we go grab some beer and nachos at T.G.I Fridays!?" said Mickey as if it were 2010 again. Beer, nachos, weekend!? This was really not Seb's vibe anymore. "I don't really drink anymore, Mickey. Plus, I got this big deadline coming up. Maybe we should make a plan for some other time?" blurted Seb nervously. "Some other time!? Well, I'm here now. How about we just grab a quick BAR-BEE-Q and catch up for old time's sakes? It'll just be an hour!" asserted Mickey.</p><p>Seb was a sucker for barbeque. He also had a hard time saying no. Mickey was well aware of these flaws.&nbsp;</p><p>"How bad could one lunch be? Might be good for me to get out," thought Seb, trying to convince himself. "I've made it this far. I've earned a little break," he continued arguing with himself. "Sounds good, Mick. See you in a few hours, buddy!" he blurted reluctantly.</p><p>The next few hours were scattered. Seb couldn't focus on his course anymore. He kept remembering his days with Mickey and what he would possibly talk about. Then there was the issue of what to wear and how to get there. Should he tell Mick he quit his job? He didn't really have an income yet and didn't want to seem like a flop. "Why do I still live in New York again?" he pondered. "The expenses are high, taxes even higher, and rent is through the roof! Someone always seems to be popping by as well," he thought. Before he knew it, it was time to leave, and he still hadn't finished reviewing his script from the morning. &#8220;So much for&nbsp;<em>Power Hour</em>,&#8221; he thought, shaking his head with a sense of guilt.</p><p>The lunch dragged on. One hour turned into three, and&nbsp;<em>BAR-BEE-Q&nbsp;</em>turned into beer and nachos, after all. Sebastian came back tipsy with a hint of disappointment. "Ah, lighten up. It's just one day," he consoled himself. Seb had a rule to never miss a habit twice in a row. Once was acceptable and easy to get back into the routine, but twice would mean having to do a lot more work, perhaps even starting over.</p><p>The day was almost gone, and it was time to sleep. For the first time since he quit his job, Seb had lost sight of his dreams. He had a few hours left, but all he could think about was the encounter.</p><p>"It's odd how Mickey hasn't changed one bit," thought Seb. "He's still wasting his life partying and keeping himself&nbsp;<em>busy."</em></p><p>Seb also found himself mysteriously transported back into that same mindset just by being with Mickey for a few hours. "I guess this is what they mean by&nbsp;<em>the</em>&nbsp;<em>circle of influence,</em>" he thought.</p><p>"I'll just pick things back up in the morning," he groaned. "Year of the tiger ..." he whispered reluctantly as he went to bed with a tiny tingle in his throat. He cleared it out and didn't think much about it.</p><div class="pullquote"><p><code>*</code></p></div><p>The morning arrived faster than a bullet train on a mission, but Seb could barely get up.&nbsp;</p><p>What was happening? Was he hungover? (yes), but this was a different type of headache. He knew exactly what it was but couldn't get himself to admit it. Two years of being extra cautious and now this, could he really have fallen&nbsp;<em>ill</em>? "The alcohol must have weakened my immune system," he reasoned.</p><p>He went back to bed in defiance of his natural light alarm. He hadn't missed his wake-up since the day he had left his job. He had been eager to wake up and work on his dreams ever since.</p><p>He tried waking up again a bit later.</p><p>It was now 11 am.</p><p>Nope. Seb was out cold.</p><p>"Damn it, Mickey!" he snapped. Although, deep down, he knew he was the one responsible for his <a href="https://www.startupflyby.com/p/the-hard-way">choices</a>. He should have trusted his gut and not given in to the FOMO.</p><p>He couldn't let his cardinal rule of two slip and wanted to get some work done. He tried getting up to review his script, but the pounding in his head had other plans. He tried to open his mouth to record the final lesson, but his voice was nowhere to be found. He felt a shiver down his spine. His only choice was to get some rest and recover.</p><p>The hours turned into days. Seb lay in bed as he watched the time melt before his eyes. His deadline grew closer. Soon there were three days left, and he hadn't even finished filming his final unit. He went from almost done to not knowing if he would ever finish.</p><p>"One simple lunch," he thought. "How could this happen?" In his blurry state of confusion, he remembered the words of his tennis coach, Master Kai. "It can take years to climb a mountain, Seb-san, but only a few seconds to fall down." How true was that? An odd piece of advice from a tennis coach indeed, but Master Kai was more Zen Monk than tennis coach. He would often drop words of wisdom when Seb least expected them. In fact, there was barely any formal tennis being taught at all. He just asked Seb to "Trust the process," and the rest would follow. Oddly enough, the strategy worked, and Seb got better and better over time. Seb questioned why he didn't use this approach in other areas of life.</p><p>Three days to go before the rent would go ballistic. Seb would have been in a state of panic, but he couldn't think clearly enough for that.</p><p>He took out his laptop and started looking for jobs again.</p><p>He was starting to give up.</p><p>They all sounded exactly like the one he had just managed to escape. The only difference was the logo on top and a different set of arbitrary criteria he would need to prove he could conform to.&nbsp;</p><p>He wasn't in the right frame of mind, he reasoned. He closed his laptop and went back to sleep. Two days later, he had almost recovered, but there was 1 day left on his lease and at least 3-4 days of work remaining; if he worked at 111%, that is.</p><p>Seb had now lost all his momentum and entered a major creative block. He wasn't sure how to pick himself back up again.</p>
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