Tag: Life

Joyful job offers

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(Written a month ago. Published only after their negotiations ended with a successful and satisfied signing.)

Today I helped someone with a job offer negotiation. I awoke this morning thinking about the elements I’d include. I wrote them down. Then I asked Claude for tips. It shifted the sequencing slightly and reframed two pieces of content. Performing skillfully in this negotiation could be worth 10% in annual pay. That’s huge! A few thoughts:

  1. Most people dislike negotiations, so they end them early. If one more back-and-forth is worth $5k in annual pay, isn’t it worth doing the additional back-and-forth? What’s your hourly work rate? Even at $200/hr, that $5k pay bump is worth 25 hours of work. There’s no way the single additional back and forth is bad.
  2. Ignore everything that isn’t a number. Sure, their internal process matters: when you hear facts about how that works, file them away. But most of the conversation is just bullshit fluff. Ignore their attempts to move you emotionally: numbers and actual contractual terms are the only relevant part.
  3. Use both logos and pathos. Just because the only thing that matters from them is the numbers doesn’t mean the only thing that matters from you is numbers. If you can move a number through fluff, that’s valuable fluff!
  4. Walk through the pathways. It’s like a chess move: follow each action down to the end of its pathway as far as you can see. (“If I do X, they might do A, B, or C. If they do A… If they do B… If they do C…”). You won’t know all the details. That’s okay. You can ballpark them. (“If I accept the offer as-is, we have a deal. If I ask for infinity dollars, they’ll either tell me no or rescind the offer. But in the middle, where do I think their lines are?”)
  5. Be positive, affable, and friendly. Everyone wants to work with someone friendly.
  6. Signal flexibility on things that don’t matter. If you’re proposing a $150k salary, offer to take it as $140k salary plus a $10k guaranteed annual bonus if it’s easier for their books. (This is an actual scenario I’ve run into: in some organizations, bonuses come from a different pool from salaries, and you don’t care where it comes from.)

Three additional rules:

  1. Know what you want.
  2. Get what you want.
  3. (Therefore, generally) ask for what you want.

Sidewalk Self-Sacrifice

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“If you’re walking on a sidewalk with a man, and you’re standing here [the left side, beside the cars], and he’s standing here [on the right side, farthest from the cars], get rid of him. Because he cares more about himself than he cares about you.” —a Reno mother teaching her Reno daughter.

This may come as a surprise to my readers, but I mostly agree with the mother. Not on the substance of the matter, nor on the mode of teaching, nor on the values being instilled. But on the fact that you should pass down to your children values that you believe to be important, and apparently this one is important to the mother.

The main thing I find missing from the mother’s description: learning. If the guy is unaware that this particular specific brand of physical comfort is significant to you, have you considered calling it out? I, for one, have learned that some women whom I like to date enjoy when I put my hands over their ears like little makeshift earmuffs whenever an ambulance drives by. I have also learned that some other women dislike this. I do *not* believe that it is an innate, values-correlated thing. I think it’s a choice that I can do, and that I could sufficiently increase my doing-of-this or not-doing-of-this to satisfy either the woman who likes it or the woman who does not.

The number of guys who are taught that sort of physical protection these days is low. The frequency with which a guy *starts out* protecting the woman that way is also low. Often, it builds over time. This mother is going to teach her daughter to select only high-machismo, high-protector men. That may be too much. The right level of protector is more likely to be someone who is decent-protector but still needs to learn the ways that you want or need protection.

It’s shit like this that is pushing back dating and marriage and slowing down natalism.

Apparently, I don’t agree with the mother.

Partner thinks my analysis of this whole experience is wrong. Partner thinks this mother-daughter dynamic is more of a teaching-one’s-daughter-to-pick-a-partner-who-is-a-member-of-a-specific-ingroup than it is teaching one’s daughter a specific set of values to find in a mate. She may be right.

She also mixes up her rights and her lefts.

If so, I *certainly* don’t agree with the mother.

Your analysis?

The Surgeon Paradox, a.k.a. Don’t Choose The Owner

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If two people perform at the same level in a work function and one of them fits the archetype, the other is generally better at the actual work. This heuristic is called the surgeon paradox.

Similarly, if someone is the owner of the weightlifting gym and they run some of the intro-to-barbell classes while another coach runs the other classes, the non-owner coach is likely better. This fact comes form the question, “How did they get there?” If that question offers a reason they don’t have to be good at their job – nepotism, eg – then they’re the wrong person.

On Tuesday, I took part one of an intro-to-barbell class. We learned squat and overhead press. The instructor was a dedicated weightlifter named Christian who had been teaching for 10 years.

Today, I took part two of the class. The gym’s owner led this class, and he spent more time socializing than I would like. When we started 10 minutes late, he promised that he would push longer. Then, he ended 5 minutes early and pitched the gym: they offered open gym and classes, didn’t I know?

I first learned this heuristic when backpacking around Asia. Thailand offered (at that time) 90-minute massages for $6. The worst massages, I quickly learned, were given by attractive young women. The best massages came from older women or men, presumably because the clientele (overwhelmingly young men) would often choose the young women for reasons other than the massage quality. (I’m talking about normal thai massages: get your mind out of the gutter.)

Sometimes the owner is the most knowledgable or most helpful. They commonly have the most skin in the game (eg because the business is their reputation on the line). When incentives are aligned and you want to be sold something, they might be your best fit.

On the other hand, they probably invested time and attention in an area that’s not “be the best lifting coach”.

When I send Partner, I’ll send her to go on sequential Tuesdays so she doesn’t have to experience the owner. We already have a gym membership. We aren’t looking to fill out new membership forms; we just want someone to critique our lifting form.

The Pleasant Walkthrough

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Wednesday at 4pm is my favorite part of the week. My contractor, designer, and carpenter meet me at the apartment. We walk through the building, pointing out errors and making new decisions. We confirm what’s happened over the last week, and I agree to pay them. This structure is fun. A few key points:

  1. I enjoy paying them. I pay for work immediately after it’s performed. They invoice me with clear line items. This structure means I enjoy paying them. I look at a new wall on the invoice, verify it against the real, in-vivo new wall, and pleasingly transfer them their money. I don’t hound them for work; I confirm that the work has been performed.
  2. I create clear sources of truth. I’ve only signed a few documents. Those documents control. I like this structure. It avoids the standard sort of mistake: someone operating from the wrong set of plans.
  3. I indicate mistakes, quickly. With a subcontractor structure, minor mistakes will inevitably happen. They clearly have these mistakes built into their timeline.
  4. I don’t sweat the small stuff. One time, I walked into the apartment to find my designer working with the A/C on and the window open. Yes, someone should correct him. But the cost to me in goodwill for flagging it would be way too much.
  5. Bring food. When Partner is around, she bakes cookies or brownies. When she’s away, I bring dried mango. Today, my contractor brought some mango too. Sharing food creates friendship.

Today, I gushed about the apartment. I often do this, saying things like “What a beautiful space! This is stunning”. I mean it. I love the work that they’re doing and the team I’ve hired. After I mentioned this, my carpenter said, “Your friend said the same thing.”

“My friend?” I replied.

“Yes, the one you sent by with his girlfriend. The one with no hair. He said you used to work together. He came here, then he went to 1F. He also loved the exposed beams.”

I thought for a moment, then I said, “I don’t know that person. I bet he just wanted to see the apartment!”

We laughed, and my lead contractor said, “That’s New York for ya”.

The Dog Show: Play’s Dead

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I watched a play tonight by the former head writer of The Daily Show with John Stewart. This man has 13 Emmys, a Grammy, and a Peabody. I expected the play tonight – which was in previews – to be clunky but well-written. I was disappointed.

The show is called “The Dog Show”. It features four actors and a projector. The screen shows a dog; one of the actors reads a monologue from that dog. Cute and simple.

Some of the monologues are relatable (the dog beside the dining table begging for chicken). Some were clever (the existential questioning of a chihuahua who was purchased for $1200 yet lives in a purse purchased for $4800). Some are heart-wrenching (the dog whose owner abandoned her beside the road). Most were overly long, empty, surface-level bleh.

I’ll give you two examples:

  1. A dog who finally experiences his life purpose when his owner throws a frisbee. Beautiful concept. But the execution needed dramatic cuts. This dog starts by talking about playing fetch, then his relationship with his owner, then slowly transitions over to the frisbee. It’s just too much exposition. Cut it. Start straight with “The disc. I saw it, and every one of my ancestors, all the way back to the wolves, pointed our noses directly at it.” I’m surprised that the head writer of The Daily Show – a medium that provides little time – would contain so many unnecessary beats.
  2. The ending is a border collie saying he’s smart and then discussing the moral of the play. The border collie does not actually act like a border collie, however. Border collies are not the sort of smart where they intellectualize. They are the sort of smart where they require a task to accomplish at all times. What is it actually like to be a creature whose existence requires constant engagement lest he be destructive? I don’t know: all this show gave me was a person saying “I’m a border collie, so I’m smart.”

As I was leaving, I heard one of the actors say, “I just hope we get reviews.”

After seeing this show, I can understand that desire. The show is insufficiently content-filled to actually warrant much writing.

If they want someone to 1) chop all the fat off of the script, and 2) point out all the spots where the show lacks actual dog perspective and/or heart, I’m available.

On Creeping

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Walking along the beach in Palermo, Italy, I spotted a couple sucking face. Not merely kissing nor making out: they were devouring each other. I had never seen two people so intensely impassioned, let alone in public for all to see. Dumbfounded, I paused my walk, fascinated. How had I been living my life so passionless? What is it about Italians that this is an acceptable cultural behavior? Where do I get some? 

After around thirty seconds, I grew self-conscious. What if they look over and see me staring? I don’t want to disturb them or prompt them to stop something they’re so clearly enjoying, but they have selected a very public place… 

A set of hip-height bushes lay between me and the couple. I thought, “I could crouch behind these bushes and keep watching”. Then I laughed because I had just derived how someone becomes a peeping tom. 

I didn’t hide behind the bushes. I continued my walk, filing this experience away in my memory as an archetype of passion and an understanding of how slight escalations can rapidly grow out of hand. 

—

Tonight, my ex is hosting a comedy show. I have always liked their art. I want to attend their show. 

I have no ill feelings toward them. Our relationship ended amicably. Since then, they have increased the amount of animosity expressed toward me. Still, I want to attend their show. 

Tonight, at the show, I don’t want to disturb them. If I could attend invisibly, I would. But the venue is probably small – 20 seats or so. What if I attend in a hat and an N95 mask? I’ll sit in the back. Maybe they won’t see me. 

I discovered this show’s existence because a friend was watching TikTok. A voice came on that I recognized. “That’s my ex!” I said. I watched a few of their YouTube videos, found their newsletter, and signed up. I didn’t want to make it awkward, however, so I signed up using a pen name. Then today, when buying the ticket, I used the same pen name.

I’m now walking to my ex’s comedy show, where I’ll sit in the back, alone, wearing a false name and a mask. 

Somehow, every step seemed reasonable. 

— 

At the show: 

They’re literally arms-length away from me. Talking over me to the person beside me. This is exhilarating. 

They pass out pens and paper before the show. The paper has a prompt. It’s about social anxiety. What’s a social interaction that you would handle differently? 

How apt. 

— 

Games played: 

While taking a shower this evening, my two-year-old nephew summoned me. 

Our games began with the red alligator. I used it to bite different items in the bath. He laughed. 

The game escalated, somehow, to him holding a plastic shovel in his mouth while I held a plastic rake in my mouth. He dropped his, prompting me to drop mine. He laughs. We repeat. 

He then handed me the alligator, wanting me to drop it from my mouth instead. We execute. He laughs. 

One time, after I dropped it, the alligator landed just in front of his body. He laughed hard enough that he peed a little. 

This led to our final game of bath time: him trying to put the alligator in my mouth while I refused. 

Next time, I’ll tell him why the game has changed. That way he can learn! 

—

Meta: 

I feel disheartened. Speaking into the void with minimal feedback that my near-daily Substack is appreciated or enjoyed makes me sad. Do you enjoy this? Read it daily? Once in a while? What do you like about it? What do you want more? Comment on it or reply to this email. I’m not trawling for engagement; I’m seeking connection. 

The Community of my Community is my Community 

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Tonight I helped a friend of a friend think through his work plans. He lent me a book from his shelf that I enjoyed leafing through. 

I like this group of friends that this this friend has. I’m three for three on liking them (I’ve liked him and two of his friends). My normal hit rate on befriending people is probably in the single digit percentages. 

They’re 25 years old. I’ve got 8 years on them. Not necessarily 8 years wiser; just 8 years. 

The conversation started when he complained that the company he wants to work for re-posted the job he applied for. They didn’t reply to his resume and cover letter two weeks ago: just re-posted the job opening online. I suggested he walk into their office tomorrow. Dress nicely, bring a copy of your resume and cover letter, find a way to talk to the would-be-boss. Tell them “I like what you’re doing and would love to help.” Know some info about the guy. It’s an assistant role: be ready for that particular guy. It’s a big city: you gotta stand out. 

He liked my advice. He plans to execute it. Even if it fails, he’ll have Done The Thing. Doing The Thing increases your ability to do. If you walk into 400 theater companies in nyc, one of them will hire you. Or at least you’ll get some exercise. 

I wonder whether I like helping this group of guys because it’s the same generation as the youth group I used to advise. Similar friendly banter. Same camaraderie. Same desire for impact and intellect. Same idealism. 

I like being helpful. I like where life is. 

He lent me a book. How to Survive the Modern World. I would like to do that. I would like to Survive. 

I like exchanging gifts. That’s how you make friends. 

Games Played 

“You’re forgiven for making me leave the house.” -Partner, after I brought her delicious fried chicken (delicious fried chicken in Harlem? What a surprise!)

Me: “When is the delivery driver expected to arrive?” 

Delivery company dispatcher: “He’s on Broadway.” 

Me: “Broadway is a reasonably large street. Do you have a cross street?” 

(This is an instance of “Tell me you don’t live in New York without telling me you don’t live in New York.”) 

Firing the wrong person

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Someone conscripted me for a project. 

I wasn’t super interested. 

I didn’t know the team, didn’t care about the topic, and the scope was out-of-wheelhouse. 

Still, they wanted to take on the topic, and the money was fine. 

The structure: a two-week work trial. We produce one article, after which the company may extend our contract. 

Someone & I worked on it for a week. Someone put in ~80% of the hours; I structured the content. We sent The Boss an outline. 

The Boss was livid. “Unacceptable”, he said, along with other epithets. He didn’t like the appearance, completely ignoring key traits and lacking in curiosity. I said to Someone, “If he replies like this, the price of the actual work just went up.” 

We hopped on a call. I spoke most on my team’s behalf: Someone prefers I do the talking because Someone wants me to own the relationship going forward. 

Afterwards, The Boss called Someone for a one-on-one. The Boss wants to drop me from the team. The irony? It wasn’t my work! I was just the point of contact! 

Someone told him they don’t have bandwidth to shoulder this whole load themselves. I’ll still send him a finished draft, because that’s what we agreed. Then maybe he’ll seek to only hire Someone for the bigger project, despite a misread of the situation. 

There’s irony for ya. 

If I cared, I’d care. But I don’t; I just find it funny. 

In the “Do good work, turn it in on time, and have people like you” world of freelancing, with this particular gig, I’ve nailed the first two. The third one? Fortunately, it’s a “choose any two”. 

Games Played

“I was going to ask you what the Jewish creation myth is. I then laughed at myself when I thought of the question.” — Partner, who was raised catholic.

Error-filled poker is best poker

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Tonight I played in a poker game. $50 buy-in tournament, unlimited rebuys, and you pay an additional $10 in cash to the person who knocks you out each time you’re knocked out. 

A list of the errors that the host made: 

  1. Not moving the blinds properly when someone is knocked out. (The correct action: the big blind moves to its proper position. The small blind follows the big blind. If this process would lead to someone being small blind twice in a row, there is no small blind.)
  2. When coloring-up chips, arbitrarily rounding up. (“Coloring up” is the process of removing small-denomination chips when they’re no longer useful. If someone has eight $10 chips and the small blind is now $100 and the big blind $200, you might as well turn all the $10 chips into $50 chips. There is a designated process for coloring up. It’s called a “chip race”. Our host instead just rounded people up… sometimes. Like, if you had three $100 chips, she just gave you a $500. But somebody received three $1000 chips in exchange for a trove of $50 chips. And there’s NO WAY he had 60 of those $50s. I think it far more likely that she mis-mathed.) 
  3. Miscounting stacks. At one point, one guy busted another. Only they miscounted how much money the two guys had, so they left the loser with a few chips when they shouldn’t have. I noticed that they miscounted. But I had only been present at this game for ~30 minutes when the miscount occurred, in a room where I was the plus one to someone I’d never actually hung out with. I didn’t want to intervene if someone else might catch it, and didn’t want to overstep my role. Nobody likes a newbie know-it-all who can eyeball a miscount from the other side of the table. 
  4. When a card is exposed, they offer the would-be owner of the exposed card the option to call a misdeal. Again, this is a circumstance with clearly defined process. Follow the process. (Certainly don’t give the would-be owner the option to call a misdeal after that person has looked at their replacement card. I was the beneficiary of this option in one circumstance, and being new to the game, let it slide. They exposed my ace, replaced it with a three, and I called a misdeal.) 
  5. If one of the players is outside for a smoke break, we fold his hand. But if the host’s boyfriend is away from the table, we wait for him. (Of the above issues, this is probably the main circumstance I find chicanerous. I’ll chalk it up to the cost of her hosting.) 

Don’t interpret these as complaints. I had an absolute blast. 

I didn’t only take advantage of the spots where it was good for me. In this game, I was along for the ride. There were ~3 spots where the mis-done blinds were meaningfully negative for me. There were also ~2 spots where the incorrectly-done blinds were positive for me. I didn’t care. I was there to have fun and meet people and bring them joy and be invited back. 

I probably will be. The host likes that I keep the game moving. 

At ~11:30pm, when a player busted, dropping us from four players to three, I ran to the bathroom for a quick pee break. While I was in the bathroom, the other two players agreed to designate first, second, and third place by chip count if I accepted. The guy with the fewest chips agreed to taking third place (20% of the pot; $100). I would receive second place (30% of the pot; $150). The chip leader would receive first place (50% of the pot; $250). 

This division is unfair. It’s most unfair to the third-place guy, as it’s acting like he’s busted. It’s second-most unfair to me because I’m way better at poker than these guys (and the upside from second place to first is big). But I want to be invited back. 

So the host’s boyfriend got to win first. He was excited. The host is happy too. So am I. I had a great night. 

It was so fun. I spoke deeply and intimately with a treasure trove of people: 

  • The Long Island-born car mechanic who now owns his own dealership of refrigerated trucks and works 6am-6pm Monday through Friday. He’s as gruff and masculine as you’d expect. But he also says to his girlfriend, when he hears about this weekend’s storm: “You know what that means? Snuggle time!” 
  • The Frenchman who immediately clocks me as a fellow French-speaker because I can pronounce his name correctly… and who speaks so quickly and with such a thick accent that absolutely no one else understands him. My favorite part: he gets frustrated about folding a hand that would have hit a straight, after seeing another guy show his flush! Why are you upset about folding the hand that would have lost you a bunch of money?! 
  • The oldest man at the table, who has played with the group for years, who still doesn’t know the chip denominations. At one point, he said, “I’ll get it next year.” He’s probably been saying that for years. At one point, he moved to the seat beside me. I helped him by telling him, “The action’s on you. It’s $3000. That’s six reds or three blacks.” Then he’d still toss in the wrong amount, and I’d give him his change. 

I had a blast, brought joy to other people, and won. 

Same time next month. 

Clown school works

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Today I missed ~8 serves in a row. This fact became comic fodder for my then-opponent and later-teammate Rocky. The rest of my game was good. My team lost 4-11, a respectable score for only having one server. It equates, approximately, to 8-11 if both teammates could serve. It probably equates to slightly higher, since my missing every serve hurts my team’s momentum. Somehow, through the whole experience, I laughed. The other players – despite being annoyed that my serve was failing – clearly enjoyed the experience more than they otherwise would. (Rocky made jokes; my partner Daphne kindly suggested adjustments; my opponent-whose-name-escapes-me offered suggestions after the game.) 

I wonder if today’s missing serves comes from today being a particularly heavy gym day.  Or the fact that today I didn’t eat much between the gym and pickleball. Or the caffeine-esque concoction I had today (I don’t usually have caffeine; today was an exception). 

There’s something nice about feeling incredibly nervous and uncomfortable, yet feeling a calm sense of humor underneath. At no point was my inability to serve frustrating. Sure, it was bad. Yes, my teammate and the opponents assumed I lacked skill. (One guy called out that a serve that hits the kitchen line is short. I replied that I knew it was short: my confusion was whether the ball had hit that line or the side line. My teammate also took a bunch of middle shots with her backhand, a bad team strategy that’s clearly compensation for expecting a bad teammate.) Amusingly, the rest of my game was excellent: I just couldn’t do the simple bit! 

When you can’t do the most important part of the game properly, people assume you can’t do the other parts of the game well. 

After game 3, my serve came back. My shoulder felt loosened up. I bet it’s the gym. I rose from the ~sixth-best player on the courts (still true despite my bad serve, lol) to the second or third. 

All the while, I enjoyed. 

Nice!