partying or getting lost in
Seinfeld
reruns. I was lucky when
I chose
to win a
negotiation for a great domain URL back when premium domains were being
sold for six and seven figures. I got lucky when
I chose
to sell my company, in
2001, to a Silicon Valley start-up. I got lucky when
I chose
to repurchase my
company at a fire-sale valuation during the dot-com implosion, reasoning that
the financials outweighed the irrational fear smothering the markets. I got lucky
when
I chose
to not only survive the dot-com crash but to thrive. I got lucky
when
I chose
to explode profits while minimizing expenses and employee
overhead, enjoying sixty-plus months of consecutive profitability, mostly seven
figures per annum. I got lucky when
I chose
to save most of my earnings into
safe, inflation-beating assets instead of investing it into risky assets touted by the
mainstream. I was lucky when
I chose
to sell real estate right before the real-
estate market crashed, despite everyone—including the National Association of
Realtors—saying, “Now is the time to buy.” I got lucky when
I chose
to sell my
company (again), in 2007, to a private-equity company for a multimillion-dollar
valuation. I got lucky when
I chose
to create a forum dedicated to
entrepreneurship, one enjoying nearly one million page views per month
because, you know, building a huge community is as simple as popping a pill—
download the software and bam: traffic, users, and engagement.
I can go on and on for another five pages about selling millions of dollars in
books, investment decisions, health choices, and more. But hopefully you
noticed a trend in my rant, and it wasn’t a lucky hot streak:
I got lucky when I
chose, then acted
. And then continued to act.
If you believe you’re unlucky, I have no doubt—you are. Instead of seeing
action interacting with immeasurable probability, you see a cosmic genie
levering a luck spigot. You are continuously unlucky if you do not
move
probability
in your favor. In fact, luck’s mysticism is another hyperreality, a
shadow seen as real when statistical probability casts the shadow. The keyword in
this oh-so-dismissed concept of moving probability?
You must move it
. You
must choose, act, and repeat. Ahh, the process-principle peeks in. Again.
So, making sure we’re on the same page, when I say “luck,” I’m not referring
to people born with a “bad hand.” If you think that’s you, I’m sorry; it probably
isn’t. A bad hand is being born in a third-world country without education,
sanitation, or clean water. A bad hand is being born in a tyrannical land where
you’d be thrown in a gulag for reading
UNSCRIPTED
. A bad hand is being born
with a debilitating disease like cystic fibrosis or cerebral palsy. The sad fact is
most people think they’ve been dealt a bad hand when they’ve been given one of
the best hands in the world. If you popped out of Mom in America or another
industrialized republic, congratulations; you have pocket kings.
If you’re reading this book, you’re relatively wealthy by world standards. You
probably have multiple televisions, shoes, electronic devices as well as more than
one shirt for the week. If you had the means to buy this book (thank you) or steal
it (thief), both reflect a great hand. You have freedom to choose. You can see,
read, and surf. And the ultimate tell: You’re not starving or homeless because
you can pursue self-actualization through a book. See, you’re one lucky bastard,
just like me.
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