The Hidden Cost of Being Good at Everything
I have held more licenses than most people have had jobs. Real estate, inspection, instruction, technology. Each one was useful. Each one earned money. And for a long stretch of my life, having all of them was precisely what kept me from getting anywhere in particular.
Being good at many things is comfortable. There’s always something you can do, always a fallback, always another door. What there isn’t, usually, is a door that opens onto anything big, because the big doors open only for people who are unreasonably good at one thing, and you can’t be unreasonably good at one thing while being reasonably good at six.
The flattering trap
The generalist gets praised. Versatile. Quick study. Can turn his hand to anything. The praise is real and the trap is inside it, because every new competence you add spreads your hours thinner, and the thing that gets paid best in any field is depth, not breadth.
Depth is also where the compounding lives. The tenth year in one craft is worth far more than the first year in ten crafts. The specialist’s reputation, network and judgment all stack. The generalist starts over each time, with a slightly better résumé and the same starting line.
Why we spread out
Mostly fear, dressed as prudence. Picking one thing means being measured against the people who picked that one thing twenty years ago, and that comparison is brutal. Spreading out means never being clearly behind anyone. It also means never being clearly ahead.
And curiosity, which is a better reason but leads to the same place. Interesting things are everywhere. Following all of them is a wonderful way to be interesting at dinner and stuck at fifty.
What to do with the breadth you already have
Don’t throw it away. Pick the one thing and let the others become support. The inspector who can also teach becomes the person who trains inspectors. The technologist who understands real estate becomes the one who builds tools for agents. The breadth becomes an edge inside the depth, instead of a substitute for it.
That’s the move: one spine, many ribs. Not six spines.
How to choose
Three questions, answered honestly.
Which of these do people already come to me for, unprompted? That’s where the market has already voted.
Which one would I still do if it paid badly for two years? That’s where the staying power is.
Which one has the longest runway, where being the best in my town or my field would be worth the most? That’s where the compounding is.
Where the three overlap, that’s the spine. If they don’t overlap, the first question wins. Markets are smarter than wishes.
What it costs
You’ll have to let some competences rust. People will ask why you stopped doing the thing you were good at, and the honest answer, “because I was good at too many things,” will sound strange to them. Let it. Within three years the one thing will be bigger than all six were together.
This week
List everything you’re competent at. Answer the three questions. Circle the spine. Then decide, in writing, what the other items are now for: support, hobby, or retirement. The decision will feel like loss for a month and like relief for the rest of your life.
Launch list
Be there on day one.
One email when the book opens on Kickstarter. Nothing else. Already reading the book? Your Cheat Sheet is at wisdomdeck.com/free.
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The book itself — 40 laws in ten parts, 320 pages, each ending with The Work — is funded first on Kickstarter.