Getting to Default Yes

Time management experts preach "No." But the Universe is calling.

Welcome back to The Workaround. I’m Bob 👋

You’re in good company with thousands of fellow entrepreneurs and innovators who follow my stories from a career in tech startups and corporate innovation.

I’m here to make you think, smile, and discover a shortcut to success or a trap to avoid.

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My first time on stage a few weeks ago. Concentrating on the chord while my celebrity bandmate backs me.

Last week, I wrote a fictional story for this newsletter.¹ Aside from a few startup pitch decks with optimistic projections, this was my first fiction since high school.

Writing fiction was hard. I couldn’t rely on historical happenings and real-world personalities to guide me. I worried that people would dislike my work. Visions of unsubscribes filled my head as I ploddingly invented characters and dialogue.

But I had to go for it….because that’s what I do now. I listen to invitations from the Universe and say Yes.

That fiction idea hit me one day and wouldn’t go away. And when my fears arose, I knew I had to do it.

A few months ago, my friend Joe recommended a book called The Surrender Experiment. It’s the autobiography of Michael Singer, who became an accidental entrepreneur (and so much more) by keeping calm and trusting the Universe to lead him in the direction it needed him to go.

I’ve always been interested in personal development, and in recent years, I have become increasingly curious about the meaning of life. So, I took the lesson of this book to heart. Over the past few weeks, I have been in “Default Yes” mode when interesting—and especially fear-inducing—opportunities come to me.

I want to share three examples below…and invite you to join me on this next chapter of self-discovery…

Signing Up for Band Camp

I’m walking through the airport, about to go through security, when I realize that I’m naked except for boxer briefs.

But it’s no big deal. I calmly grab a seat and start getting dressed. The only problem is my socks don’t match, but I figure no one will notice that minor detail.

Then I wake up.

It’s the morning before my first time singing and playing guitar on stage in front of an audience. I laugh at myself, knowing that this dream required no deep analysis. My subconscious reflected a fear, and gave me the confidence to get past it.

A few weeks earlier, at a recurring happy hour with a group of good friends, I learned that two of them would be attending a 2-day guitar clinic. Sean, a top music teacher in town, was bringing in Guthrie Trapp, one of the top blues guitar players in the world, to share some of his secrets. They said I should sign up. And since I play guitar, I said Yes.

Only after signing up—two weeks before the clinic—do I learn that, on Saturday night, the program's culmination, each of us will play guitar alongside Guthrie live on stage at a local bar.

Gulp.

Then, I discover I’ve been assigned “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry. This was my backup preference. I had never played it before, but I thought it would be cool since I own a hollow body electric guitar similar to what Chuck (and Marty McFly) used.

I probably should have spent more time looking at the difficulty of its intro and solo, and less time thinking about the synchronicity of our guitar models. I had expected to get my first choice, “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” which I know well. But another guy chose that one just minutes before I got my preferences in.

Double Gulp.

In the two weeks before the event, I work with my guitar teacher to break down the song and proceed to practice for an hour each night. Damn, it’s hard. The day before the clinic starts, I give up. There’s no way I can hit these exact notes alone in my house, much less perform them flawlessly on stage for the first time.

In the middle of Day 2 at the clinic, each student gets a few minutes to rehearse their song with Guthrie. I’m clearly the worst guitar player of our group of ten, so sitting in front of even this tiny audience gets my stomach going.

First, I boldly leap and ask if I can sing my song. Everyone else is sticking with the lead singer hired as part of the backup band. But I love singing and playing more than anything, and I needed to get this bucket list item checked off.

Then, I explain to Guthrie that I’m way off on the intro and solo and suggest that he take those parts. The intro, in particular, is high-stakes because there are no drums, bass, or rhythm guitar to play me in. It kicks the whole song off.

Did I mention that mine is the first song of the entire set?

You can see this whole exchange in this short video that Sean recorded. Guthrie wants me to be comfortable and is willing to take the lead—but after thinking for a beat or two, he suggests I go for it:

“I’d say part of this is jumping in and getting a little uncomfortable…and guess what, nobody’s going to get hurt.”

My reply: “I’ll do it.”

The other guys share words of encouragement, and I hack through it a few times in front of the group. My confidence swells, and I can feel myself already finding some shortcuts in the tricky parts that will allow me to reduce the degree of difficulty while keeping the iconic riffs.

The clinic concludes, and we head to the suburban bar where I’ll debut. With an hour to kill before show time, I drink a tall beer to calm my nerves and find a quiet corner to mentally rehearse my lyrics and lines. I meet the backup band and watch as “regulars” from the neighborhood trickle in. They are here for live music, but have no idea who we are. A big table in the back has 50th birthday balloons. I’m glad that someone is in my age group.

Finally, it’s go time. I hop up on stage and plug in, winding my cable around my guitar strap like the pros do. A quote from Dune comes to mind.² Sean and Guthrie give a little speech about the program and announce, “For some people it’s their first time on stage…including this guy!”—as he points back at me.

I don’t pay much attention to the crowd’s reaction. They are a blob of colors in my fuzzy vision. I’m too busy concentrating on keeping my left fingers in the correct starting position—middle finger on 3rd string, 4th fret, ready to slide to the 6th. Then I look back as our drummer counts me in…

Immediately, I feel the fun of the moment and know I’m doing OK. With my guitar amped up and the band's big sound backing me, it’s like riding a wave. I roll with it.

Less than three minutes later, it’s over. We get a nice round of applause and a few hoots. I unplug my guitar and hand the cable to my friend, Michael, who will proceed to shred through “Superstition” by Stevie Wonder.

As I put my guitar away in the pool table / green room off stage right, I laugh with pure joy. It was just so fun, amazing, memorable, all that stuff. But also silly to be nervous about. I hear someone shout “Bobby B. Goode!” outside the room. My fellow students trickle in to give me high fives as they tune up to take their turns. I’m already wondering how I might get back on stage again someday.

And it all happened because I’m now Default Yes.

Dinner with Strangers

A few days later, I’m in Las Vegas for the annual ShopTalk conference, supporting our A2 Influence business.

Shortly after touchdown in Sin City, I randomly think about eating at Nobu. It’s one of my favorite sushi spots, but I haven’t been there, nor thought about it, in years. Alas, Nobu is not in our plans for the week, as we have other dinners at other spots scheduled all week. Maybe next trip.

After a typical day of conferencing, happy hours, and dinner, our CEO, Rob, and I grab drinks with our old friend, Natalie. We shoot the shit about old times and play a game of “Who’s working where now?”

Then Natalie gets a text—and learns that the clients she planned to host for dinner tomorrow night have to cancel. She had to commit to a $100 deposit per guest to make that dinner reservation.

“Well,” Natalie says, “anyone want to go to Nobu tomorrow night?”

I’ve hit the jackpot in Las Vegas and didn’t even have to place a bet. I successfully juggle my commitments to join Natalie and another friend the following evening.

The three of us converge at the Paris Nobu right on schedule, and watch as two people at the host desk in front of us are turned away from their table. They showed up too late for their reservation, and begin to turn away into the casino concourse with sad looks on their faces.

Then Natalie sees the invitation from the Universe and offers her own invitation. She asks the pair, who we soon learn are mother and daughter, if they want to join us at our table.

They happily accept, and we have a wonderful time with these two strangers. The meal starts with an exploration of familiar places lived and jobs worked. By the end, we’re into heavy topics of spirituality and philosophy.

We linger long enough to close the joint and share hugs as we break from this unique bubble of human sharing and return to our regular lives.

I have even greater appreciation for my friend Natalie. She sees the light of opportunity and says Yes.

Sheepdog on the Tubes

It’s late February and I’m in London, walking back from watching the Tottenham Hotspur host Manchester City in a Premier League football match.

My wife took an invitation from the Universe to attend a painting class this week, and I went along for the ride. My only plan was to avoid the traditional tourist sights, which I’ve seen four or five times by now. If a backup Beefeater is needed, I could recite all their jokes about Anne Boleyn and the resident ravens of The Tower.

So when I saw there was a mid-week football match just up the Victoria Line, I went for it. My wife wasn’t game to join, but I was fine going alone. I had to do a few dodgy things to get tickets, and expected to be turned away at one of the three different places my mobile ticket was scanned. But I made it in and marveled at this unique sports experience at the largest club stadium in London.

With twenty minutes of regular time on the clock and the home team down 1-0, I beat the rush and head back to our Airbnb flat. I walk to the Seven Sisters tube stop, board the train at 9:30 pm, and get one of the last available seats in my car.

I’m surprised at how full the train is for late on a weeknight. Everyone around me is busy chatting or plugged into their headphones and digital devices. As a stranger in a strange land, I opt to skip the distractions and remain very aware of my surroundings.

So I am quick to see a woman across from me start yelling at the woman seated next to her: “You bitch! Why did you have to sit next to me!!”

Then she slaps her.

She slaps her so hard that the other woman’s AirPod flies out of her left ear.

The victim is dumbfounded. The slapper gets up and walks to the nearest train door, continuing to scream.

My mind turns…

Clearly, they are not friends or related. The slapper seems to be mentally unstable. After living in New York City and riding subways like this often, it’s not unusual to see stuff go down like this.

I look around the crowded car, and no one else seems to have noticed what happened—and is still happening. They all seem lost in whatever combination of listening, talking, and gaming they had been doing seconds earlier.

Then the victim comes to her senses and pulls out her phone. She takes a photo of the still-ranting aggressor, likely to use as evidence if charges need to be filed. I understand this reaction, but it makes me wince. Mentally unstable people tend to dislike having their photos taken mid-rant.

So I am not surprised when the slapper moves toward the victim again and pulls her arm back to take another swing…

That’s when I stand up.

I move between her and the victim, hold out my hand, and say, “No.”

(Technically not Default Yes, but I’m sure you get it)

The slapper immediately backs up and presses herself against the door behind her. She adds me to her cursing rants, but is no longer interested in taking another swing. I just stand there, smiling, and point to the AirPod sitting in the victim’s lap. I was more worried about her losing that than I was about further escalation.

In seconds that elapse like hours, the train reaches the next stop. The slapper gets off. I return to my seat. The victim smiles and says, “Thank you.”

There are no cheers in the car. No one offers to buy me a pint, much less induct me into The Order of the Garter. But I smile to myself as I realize I had this in me. I knew it was a test, and I’m so glad I passed it.

Sometimes the invitations from the Universe—and our responses—come without time to think. We learn about ourselves no matter which way things turn.

How to Hear and Heed the Call

Pumped up to hear the call and take the next invitation? Well, don’t get too excited and say “Yes!” to everything that comes across your inbox or DMs. But it is a type of skill to build. Here are some things that have helped me:

• Yes, Yes, Hell No!—I came across this idea in a recent post and book. First, the internal voice of your intuition lights up (Yes). Your curiosity and passion have hooked you. Then, the voice of reason checks it out and approves it (Yes). It’s not crazy and makes sense. And finally, your voice of fear says Hell No! Laugh at the silly fear and go for it. As the Bard said, “Nobody’s going to get hurt.”

• Make it a Habit—The more you embrace the invitations, the more they come to you. Subconscious processes in your mind stay on the lookout and point you toward more. Now, I wake up and think about what wild thing might happen today. What story am I going to get to write in my journal tonight? What will I get to share with my friends over beers? How can I turn this into a Substack post? Gotta feed the life experience beast! [Check out this post for more little tests to give yourself.]

• Baby Steps—There’s something on your bucket list that you’ve always been curious about. What’s the easiest first step to get there? Returning to my Band Camp: It started when I played Guitar Hero. Yep, the video game. I got to Expert Level, won two contests, and realized it was time to try the real thing. I bought a cheap acoustic guitar and began 30-minute weekly lessons. Each time I take the next step, I enjoy it more. It took me almost 8 years to hop on a stage after picking up a real guitar. One of the only regrets I have in my life is that I didn’t take the tiny steps earlier, as I’d be having even more fun today.

• Make Space for the Call—If the Universe sees you’re always busy, the opportunities won’t come your way. Reserve time on your calendar for thinking and random coffee meetings. Proactively connect with people on LinkedIn. Cut out mind-stealers like social media and news apps. Be where shit happens: One of the reasons I’ve moved downtown is that I can say Yes to all kinds of random meetups and events.

• Honor the Organizers—My god, nothing is more challenging in these busy times than volunteering to organize an event. So when someone takes the initiative, I almost always say yes immediately, and never complain about whatever they pick.

• Fight the Aging Process—Plenty of research shows that as we get older, we tend to get stuck in our ways. It’s easier to do the same things, eat the same stuff, and hang with the same people. But this stalls our development and might mean our brain shrinks faster. If we’re not out there fully living, we’re just slowly dying.

Life is not meant to be stable. We’re floating down a river and cannot stop and stand against it.

Like riding a bike, we must keep moving to keep our balance.

The shark that stops swimming will stop breathing.

Like Alice in Wonderland’s Red Queen, we are the product of an evolutionary process in which we must keep running to stay in place.

You’ve been reading this far, which means something deep inside you wants to take risks, reply with more Yeses, and add new experiences to your life. This is your invitation. Take it!

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In case you didn’t notice, there’s no business story here. Like my fiction writing last week, today’s post is yet another venture outside my comfort zone: To write about a broader life lesson.

I invite you to come along for the ride as I explore this rabbit hole further…

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Want to go deeper into life topics like this…?

Then upgrade to Paid and put me to work!

As a passionate creator and paid subscriber to several Substack newsletters, I’ve been tempted for a long time to spin up my own paid option.

However, I could never answer a key question: Why bother? I’m not doing this for the money; I want to positively impact as many people as possible. I feared that putting up a pay wall would appear grabby and arrogant.

There’s that F-word again…

But over the past few months, my storytelling inspiration has come from topics far beyond business. I’ve been compelled to write about this here, but I don’t want to drive off subscribers with a strictly business preference.

So, I’m launching a Paid option for people who want to join me on a trip through broader life topics. If you like what you read here, you’ll love where this goes next. I’ll keep it to about one monthly post, with the others remaining Free to read.

I’ve got a bunch of stories and topics that I’m eager to share with you. I’m also interested in how having paying customers will motivate me. It’s all just another example of saying Yes to the call from the Universe.

A very hearty Thank You to the people who pledged their hard-earned dollars toward an eventually paid option: Brian, Rohan, Steve, Ralph, George, and Jim—you’re the wind in my sails that got me out of the dock!

Last, but not least, 100% of any revenue will go right into efforts to increase my subscriber base, mainly through paid marketing that I’ve been doing on other platforms. So every dollar you spend with me goes toward paying it forward to new readers.

Here we go!

1. I didn’t announce this was fiction until the end of the story, which I still feel a little guilty about. Next time I’ll tell you at the top that it’s coming…probably. Maybe.

2. First, pat yourself on the back for taking the invitation to come all the way down here to see what quote I’m referring to. You are unusually curious, a total nerd, or both. “Fear is the mind killer” would be appropriate. But the quote in my mind was: "He shall know your ways as if born to them." If you know, you know.