Success and the Insecurity Economy
In sum, it’s never been a better time to be exceptional, or a worse time to be
average.
That’s one of the major effects of the disruptive environment created by
the rise of the lottery economy, wherein digital technology creates a single
market in which one leader can capture the overwhelming majority of gains.
A series of discrete ponds, businesses, and geographies are in the midst of the
downpour of globalization, making a smaller number of really big lakes. The
bad news: there are more predators. The good news: the big fish in the big
pond has a phat life. The Four Horsemen demonstrate this on a mega-scale.
There is a marketplace corollary to this phenomenon, where the value of
the top-tier products in a category explodes, even as the value of lesser
products collapses. In rare books, Amazon has given once-obscure and hard-
to-find editions global exposure. Predictably, the resulting increase in
demand for a fixed supply has led to higher prices—for the finest
masterworks. But it has also illuminated the abundance of run-of-the-mill
books and given the buyer exponentially more choices below the top tier.
Which, just as predictably, has had the opposite effect, crushing the value of
these non-top-tier books.
The same thing is happening in labor markets. Thanks to LinkedIn,
everyone is on the global job market all the time. If you are exceptional, there
are thousands of firms looking for, and finding, you. If you are good, you are
now competing with tens of millions of other “good” candidates all over the
planet—and your wages may stagnate or decline.
The top dozen professors at Stern are in demand globally and get paid
$50,000 or more to speak at a lunch. I’d venture their average annual income
is $1 million to $3 million. The rest (“good”) are now competing with Khan
Academy and the University of Adelaide (both offer “good,” the former
online). These “good” professors teach executive education for modest extra
income, or complain about the dean in a primal scream for relevance, as they
make a fraction of what their (marginally) better colleagues make. The
difference between good and great can be 10 percent or less, but the delta in
rewards is closer to 10 times. The “good” professor’s average annual income
is $120,000 to $300,000, and they are overpaid—and easily replaced. The
university can’t fire them, thanks to tenure, so it pretends to be concerned and
(mostly) ignores them. It makes them department chairs, assigns them to
committees, and comes up with a host of excuses for their mediocrity.
So, if not naturally great, what behaviors help achieve the extra 10 percent?
The fundamentals won’t change. Excellence, grit, and empathy are timeless
attributes of successful people in every field. But as the pace and variability
of work increase, success will be at the margins, separating successful people
from the herd.
As I described at the beginning of this book, my sixth company is L2, a
business intelligence
(fancy term for research) firm that has grown to 140
people in seven years. Seventy percent of our employees are under thirty; the
average age is twenty-eight. L2 employees are often recruited by aspirational
firms. They are kids: raw, having had little time to shape their working
personalities beyond the nature and the nurture of their youth. It’s an
interesting environment to observe people and witness how their core
personalities drive success and failure. And from those observations, I’ve
come to some conclusions regarding what it takes to succeed in our evolving,
horsemen-driven economy.
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